Glish and Germani Philology - Forgotten Books

THE OURNAL OF

GLISH AND GERMANI

PHILOLOGY

FOUNDED BY

GUSTAF E . KARSTEN

MAN AGIN G EDITOR

JULIUS GOEBEL ,UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

ASSOCIATE EDITOR S

H . S . V . JONES AND G . T . FLOM

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

CO-OPERATIN G EDITOR S

HERMANN COLLITZ, JOHN S HOPKIN S UN IVER SITYGEORGE O. GURME

, N ORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITYWILLIAMW. LAWREN CE , COLUMBIA UN IVER SITY

CLARK S . NORTHUP,CORNELL UN IVER SITY

V O L U ME X I I I1 9 1 4

PUBLISHED QUARTERLY BY THE UN IVERSITY OF ILL INOIS

URBAN A, ILL . , U . S . A .

Ernst Peise, Zu Entstehung, Problem und Technik von Goethes

Philip Seiberth, A S tudy in the Principles of L inguistic ChangeR . W. Pettengill, The S ource of an Episode in Heinrich’

s von

N eustadt ApolloniusEugene F . Clark, The F able F rosch und Mans as found in L uther

and Hans SachsIngebrigt L illehei, L andsmaa l and the L anguage Movement in

R . S . F orsythe, Modern Imitations of the Popular BalladR achel M. Kelsey, Indian Dances in The TempestT. S . Graves , The Origin of the Custom of S itting on the Stage

Helen L ard Hughes, Characterization in Clarissa HarloweJulius Goebel, Aus Rudolf Hildebrands N achlass (Zu Walther von

der Vogelweide)Harry T. Collings, The L anguage of F reytag’

s AhnenF rederick A . Braun, Margaret F uller

’s Translation and Criticism

of Goethe’

s Tasso

Emma Gertrude Jeeck, John Oxenford as TranslatoxjA . Le Roy Andrews, Ibsen’

s Peer Gynt and Goethe’s F aust

Horace Ainsworth Eaton, De Quincey’s L ove of Music

F ranklyn Bliss Snyder, Stuart and Jacobite L yricsRaymond Macdonald A lden, The U se of Comic Material in the

Tragedy of Shakspere and his ContemporariesJoseph Quincy Adams, Jr., Some N otes on H enry G lapthorne’

s

.Wit in a Constable

J B . F letcher,“Spengetfe Earliest Translations

Gunther Jacoby, Einige Missverst'

alndnisse uber“Herder Als F aust

George B . Dutton, Dramatic F ashions Illustrated in S ix 01d PlaysF rederick Morgan Padelford, Spenger

’s F owre Hymnes

Bernard L . Jefferson, Queen A rfne and Queen A lcestisG . O. Curme, The Development of Modern Groupstress in German

and EnglishF rancis A . Wood, Germanic E tymologiesH . W. N ordmeyer, Das schallanalytische V erhaltnis von GottfriedsVierzeilern zu den erzii hlenden Partien des

“Tristan

A lexander Green,The Analytic Agent in Germanic

F rederick Tupper, The Pardoner’s Tavern

Oliver F arrar Emerson, What is the Parlement of F oules ?

H . S . V . Jones, Imaginatif in Piers PlowmanHardin Craig, The Corpus Christi Procession and the Corpus

Christi P layR EV IEWS AND N OTE S

L . M. Price, J . Dresch’s Le R oman Social en Allemagne

Wilhelm v . Obernitz, Gunther Jacoby’s Herder als F aust

Julius E lise Dosenheimer’s Hebbels Aufi

'

asung vom

S taat

William Witherle L aurence, F r . Klaeber’s The L ater Genesis and

Other Old English and Old Saxon Texts R elating to the F all

w./ John S . Kenyon, Hubert G . Shearin’

s The That-clause in the

Authorized Version of the BibleF r. Klaeber, Knut S tj erna’

s E ssays on Questions Connected Withthe Old English Poem of Beowulf

George 0 . Gurme, J H . Kern’

s De met het Participium Praeteriti

omschreven Werkwoordsvormen in’

t N ederlands

A lexander Green, L ionel Armitage’

s Introduction to the S tudy of

Old High German

Josef Wiehr, E . L ahnstein’s E thik und Mystik in Hebbels Welt

anschauungHermann A lmstedt, Hensler’s Altislandisehes E lementarbuchErnst F eise, L . Hettich

’

s Der funfi'

iissige Jambus in G oethe’s

Dramen

H . Becker von Klenze, Clara P . N ewport’

s Woman in the Thoughtand Work of F riedrich Hebbel

L ouise M. Kuefi'

ner, F . Gundolph’

s Shakespeare und der deutscheGe tst

Julius Goebel, N eue F austliteratur

Percy W. L ong, J J Higginson’s Spenser’

s Shepherd ’s Calender

Gertrude S choepperle, R . J Peebles ’The L egend of L onginus

Joseph Quincy Adams, Jr., W. J L aurence’

s The Elizabethan Playhouse and other S tudies

R . L . Ramsey, L . L oose’

s D ie Kailyard Schoo lC . R . Baskervill , W. D . Briggs

’Ben Jonson

’s Sej anus

V . L . Parsons, W. Smith’s The Commedia Dell

’A rte

Wm. A . N itze, Gertrude S choepperle’s Tristan and Isolt

B . G . Morgan, E . Classen’

s Vowel A lliteration in the Old GermanicL anguages

Max F . Blau, Genevieve Bianquis , Caroline de G underode

Emil Doernenburg, Das Werk Wilhelm R aabes V on HeinrichSpiero

Paul R . Pope, D r. Kurt R eichelt, R ichard Wagner und die Eng

lische L iteraturL eonard Bloomfield, S . F eist’

s Kultur, Ausbreitung und Herkunftder Indo-Germanen

G . F . Whicher, A aron H ill, Poet, Dramatist, Proj ectorJacob Zeitlin , M. Callaway’

s The Infinitive in Anglo—Sax onA rthur J Tiej e, S . L . Wolff

’s The G reek R omances in E lizabethan

F ictionR aymond D . Havens, L ord Byron as a Satirist in VerseCamillo von Klenze, Grudzinski

’

s Shaftesburys E influss auf Chr.

M. VVieland ; Elson’s Wieland and Shaftesbury

George M. Baker, F . Winther’s Das Gerettete VenedigN C . Brooks , R ecent Books on the Mediaeval R eligious D rama

Joseph Quincy Adams , Jr. , J H . Penniman’s Poetaster and

Satiromastix

F rederick Morgan Padelford, F . A . Patterson’s The Middle Eng

lish Penitential L yricF ranklyn Bliss Snyder, Hanna L ohmann

’s John Woodward , The

L ife and Tragedy of the R oyal L ady Mary, L ate Queen of

1 67 I

ZU ENTSTEHUNG,PROBLEM UND TECHN IK VON

GOETHES ‘WERTHER ’

‘

Im ersten Theile des Werthers ist Werther Goethe selbst .

In Lotte llud Albert hat er von uns, meiner Frau und mir

,

Ziige entlehnt. Viele von den Scenen sind ganz wahr, aber

doch zum Theil verandert, andere sind, in unserer Geschichte

wenigstens , fremd . Um des zweyten Theils Willen , 11nd um

den Tod des Werthers vorzubereiten ,hat er im ers ten Theile

vers chiedenes hinzugedichtet , das uns gar nicht zukommt .Lotte hat z .B . weder mit Goethe, noch mit sons t einem andern ,

in dem ziemlich genauen Verhaltniss gestanden ,Wie da be

schrieben ist ; Es ist wahr, er hielt viel von

meiner Frau ; aber darin hatte er sie getreuer schildern sollen,

dass sie viel zu klug und zu delicat war , als ihn einmal so weitkommen zu lassen ,

Wie im ersten Theil enthalten . S ie betrug

sich so gegen ihn ,das s ich sie weit lieber h '

zitte haben mfissen ,

als sonst , wenn di eses moglich gewesen ware. Sonst

ist in Werthen viel von Goethe ’s Character und Denkungsart .

Lottens Portrait ist im ganzen das von meiner Fran c Albert

héitte ein wenig Warmer seyn mogen .

So viel vom ersten Theile. Der zweyte geht uns gar nichtsan . Da ist Werther der junge Jerusalem ; Albert der Pf

‘cil

zische L egations-Secretair , und Lotte des letzteren F rau ; wasnfimlich di e Geschichte anbetrifit, denn die Charactere sinddiesen drey Leuten grosstentheils nur angedichtet . Von Jeru

salem wusste aber der Verfasser seine vorherige Geschichtevermuthlich nicht

,darum schickte er die im ersten Theile

voraus , und setzte vers chiedenes hinzu,um den Erfolg des

zweyten Theils wahrscheinlich zu machen ,und diesem mehr

eren Anlass zu geben . Der Al bert des zweyten Theils war

freilich etwas eifersuchtig , aber stand doch n icht in dem

Verhaltniss mit seiner F rau, Wie da bes chrieben ist. Seine

Frau ist ein sehr hiibsches , sanftes , gutes Geschopf ; aber nichtdas L eben in ihr

, was ihr da beygelegt Wird ; sie war aueh

zu der kleinen Untreue n icht einmal ffihig , und aueh sie

betrug sich viel eingezogener gegen Jerusalem,der sie frey

lich sehr liebte, aber doch im beleidigten Ehrgeiz , mehr als

2 F eise

in der unglucklichen L iebe den Grund zu seinem letztenEntschluss e fand . Er beredete sich aber vielleicht selbst

,dass

das Letzte die Hauptursache sey , und di e letzte Veranlassungist die L iebe selbst gewiss gewesen .

1

So schildert Kestner die Ents tehung des Werther in einemBriefe vom 7 . November 1774 seinem Freunde von Henn ings .

Dass Kes tner nicht gerecht sein kann in dieser Sache, istganz natiirlich und Goethe hat klar den Grund dafur erkannt

,

wenn er ihm s chreibt : “Ihr fiihlt 757m nicht

,ihr ffihlt nur

mich llud ouch, und was ihr angeklebt heisst—und truz euchund andern—eingewoben ist—Wenn ich noch lebe, so bist du ’

s

dem ich ’

s dancke—bist also n icht Albert—Und also 2

Der Conzeptionsprozess des Werther ist ausserordentlichkompliziert und kann fiir Kes tner unmoglich durchsichtigsein,

da er Goethes Arbeitsart ni cht kann te,und da aus serdem

noch Elemente hineinspielten ,von denen er jedenfalls nichts

wusste. F iir jede Person haben wir mindestens zwei Vorbilder. In Werther vers chmilzt Goethe and Jerusalem ; in

Albert : Kestner, Brentano und Herd ; in Lotte : Lotte Bufi,

Max imi liane Brentano, Frau Herd und stellenweise wohlFraulein von Ziegler

,und selbst fiir “

die Freundin seiner

Jugend” wird Urania sowie Katharina von Klettenberg vor

bildl ich gewesen sein . Kestners Bericht uber den Tod Jeru

salems 3 liefert das Skelett der Erz'

ahlung . Von den Vor

gangen im Hause Brentano wissen wir n icht genug, um sichereSchliisse ziehen zu konnen . Lotte bekommt Max imilianes

Augen,und vielleicht auch stammt von dort die leise Sen ti

mentalisierung , die der wirkh’

chen Lotte fremd, im Wertheraber mit feinster Kuns t eingewoben ist. Mir scheint , wennman sehr genau zuzieht , kann man in den Briefen von 1 6.

Jul ius,24. November und 4. December das Portrait Maxi

milianes leise durchschimmern sehn :‘Sie hat ein Melodi e,

di e sie auf dem Klavier spielt mit der Kraft eines Engels ,so simpel llud so geis tvoll ! ’ Freilich mag Lotte Buff auch

1 Goethe und Werther, Briefe Goethes meistens aus seiner JugendZe it etc . hrsg. v. A . Kestner, 3. Aufl. Stuttg. 11 . Berlin. 0. J. (im folgenden citiert als GW) p. 106 f.

= 21 N ov. 1 774.

t ow p. 47 fl”.

Entstehung, Problem and Techm'

k von Goethes‘Werther

’3

einfache L ieder gespielt und gesungen haben ,aber fur sie

sind die Menuetts und Contretanze bezeichnend, und am 1 .

December 1772 sp ielt Goethe noch auf einen Marsch an . Dage

gen finden wir, dass er von der Max spricht als dem Engel, dermit den simpelstcn und werthesten E igens chaften alle

Herzen an s ich zieht.4Dass Goethe Tagebuchaufzeichnungen und Briefe im Wer

ther direkt eingeschmolzen habe, wie es gewohnlich heisst ,scheint mir sehr zweifelhaft oder zum mindesten unglucklich

ausgedruckt. Jeder einzelne Brief Werthers ist dafur viel

zu kunstvoll komponiert 11nd im Tone von der im allgemeinen

zieml ich sachliohen Korrespondenz Goethes verschieden . SeineMitteilungen aus jener Zeit sind abrupter, s tatt Radotage die

vielsagende Geste, einen lyrisehen matter of fact Stil konnteman es nennen . Damit ist indessen nicht gesagt, dass er nichteigne Erlebnisse benutzt habe ; von rein Gegenstandl ichem ist

uns folgendes zum Teil als wirklich vorgefallen bezeugt ,zum Teil konnen wir es mit grosster Wahrs cheinlichkeit annehmen : Topographie und Bev61kerung , 5 Spaziergange nachGarbenheim,

Vorf'

alle beim Zeichnen ,der Ball (allerdings mit

Kestner 11nd ohn e Ohrfeigene) und Besuch am nachsten Tage,Homer

,das Spielen mit den Kindern ,

Geschi chte des Pfarrhofszu St. .

7 die kranke Freundin (eine wirkliche Begebenheit im L ichte der L ila-Uran ia F reunds chafts ) , Vielleichtdie Brunnenscene mit Malchen und Vielleicht die Geschichtevon dem ‘ geizigen

,rangigen F ilz

’ 9,Kestner-Alberts zuruck

‘Anfg. F ebruar 1 774, an Betty Jacob i.lsDariiber hauptsachlich : Heinrich Gloel, Goethes Wetzlarer Zeit.

Berlin 1 91 1 .

mm pp. 27 f., 1 20 f., 1 5 3.

7 Deinet an N icolai, 1 9 . N ov. 74 :‘Wer den Schlussel zu Werthern

hat, erschrickt fiber manche Satyre, die sich bloss in F rankfurt er

schliesst So ist der Brief vom 1 5 . Sept. im 2ten Theil die Geschichteeines hiesigen Pfarrhauses , das ich nun aber freilich nicht ofl’

entlich

sagen mochte.

’Citiert bei Morris, Der j unge Goethe V I p. 41 7.

”Die Krankheit der F rau R entmeister Rhodius in Atzbach, sieheGW p. 1 5 4. fiber L ila und Urania : Erich Schmidt : R ichardson,Rousseau u. Goethe, Jena 1 875 pp. 281 -9 .

”Max Herrmann sieht darin wie auch in der Brunnenscene eineneingegangenen Lebensrest. Jubilaumsausgabe 1 6 . p. 388.

4 F eise

haltendes Benehmen ,Pos sen und verwirrtes Zeug (30. Jfilius )

di e Mahnung des Freundes (Merck-Wilhelms ‘Entweder

Unterhaltung der Freunde fiber Lotte der Tod von

Lottens Mutter,1 1 die fortgeworfenen Blumen (10. August) ,

1 2

Marchenerz'

ahlen, der Contrast zu Albert, der in den Akten be

graben ist (22 . August ) , die blassrote Schleife als Geschenk ,Abschieds gespraeh , Uberrasehung durch Hochzeit , Oss ian .

Dass Goethe unter seinen Erlebnissen eine starke Auslese

vorgenommen und fast nichts zugelassen hat, was nicht un

bedingt sich der kiinstlerischen Absicht des Romans anpasste,geht daraus hervor, dass vieles , was wir aus seinen Briefen

kennen und was also s chon die Gedachtnisauslese pass iert hat,im Roman keinen Platz fand ; so das Bohnenschneiden und

Beginnen der Geburts tagsfeier ‘

mit Thee llud freundl ichenGresiehtern

’

,

1 3 der‘ bunte Teppich des Tisches an dem s ie sass

und Filet machte,llud ihr strohern Kistgen bey sich stehn

hatte ’

,

1 4 das blaugestreifte Nachtj'

aekchen Lottes,

1 5 der Brant

strauss,

1 6 Johannistraubenpfliicken und Quetschens chiitteln ,

1 7

die Spazierg'

ange zu dreien ,der N adelcommerz mi t Lottes

Silhouette. Zumal alles , was Kestner betrifit ist eliminiertoder stark verandert : beim Balle ist er nicht zugegen ; das

Mondenmitternachtsgesprach an der Mauer 1 8 sowie die ers te

Begegnung mit ihm ,

1 9 beides eminent poetische Motive, s ind

Kestner sagt in seinen Tagebuch, als er mit Goethe und andernL otte aus Atzbach abgeholt z

‘

gingen herein, vergnugt, das s wir

unser L . Wieder hatten.

’GW p. 1 5 4.

1 1 GW p. 1 39 f.

1Z GW P . 1 5 5‘seine Blumen wurden gleichgiltig liegen ge

lassen, er empfand es , warf sie weg, redete in Gleichni ssen ; ich ging mitGothe noch N achts bis zwolf Uhr auf der Gasse spatzieren ; merkwurdiges GeSpr

'

ach ; wo er voll Unm/uth war, und allerhand Phantasienhatte, woriiber wir am Ende, im Mondschein an eine Mauer gelehntlachten.

’

13 27. August 1 774.

1 ‘ 1 5 . Sept. 1 773.

Oct ; 1 772, Oct. 1 773 ; 31 . Oct. 1 773.

M 1 4. April 1 773.

1 7 1 5 . April 1 773.

1“Jan. 1 773, siehe auch GW p. 1 5 5 wie oben citiert.

1 " GW p. 26‘Daselbst fand ich ihn im Grase unter einem Baume

E ntstehung, Problem and Techm'

k van Goethes‘Werther

’5

nicht benutzt ; die Tafelrunde 1m Kronprinzen liegt derWertheratmosphare vollig fern .

Das alles beweist die E igenart der Konception und die

Vors icht,mi t der einerseits Goethe beim Eins chmelzen des

Rohmaterials verfuhr, 11nd mit der andrerseits Ruckschlfisseauf diesen Prozess gemacht werden mfissen . Der Wertherzeigt , trotz Goethes Vers icherung, ihn ‘ ziemlich unbewusst

,

einem Nachtwandler ahnlich ’20niedergeschrieben zu haben ,

einen fiir die Sturm-und Drang Zeit fast unglaublichenKunstverstand ; kein fals cher Ton l

'

auft unter,mit Vor

bereiten und Vordeuten von Brief zu Brief entwickeln sich

die Vorgange mit zwingender Gewalt .Der Ton des ersten Teils , in den die Wetzlarer Erlebn isse

eingingen ,ist nicht der der Wetzlarer Zeit ; denn trotz

einiger Falle,wo Goethe die Herrschaft fiber sich ver

liert 11nd ihm das émx pat siv Bévaceaa nieht gd ingt, is t die

Stimmung des Sommers 1 772 kraftig 11nd gesund,ohne angst

liche Spannung . Wo diese einmal entsteht,wird sie wohl

gelost wie imMondenmitternachtsgesprach an der Mauer : der

Unmut entladet s ich und man lacht , denn Kestner ist n ichtAlbert . Goethe hat zu viel Centrum in sich selbst

,er spielt

mit dem Feuer, aber als‘der Fuchs ’

bei ihm‘ lebendig wird ’

,

weiss er ihn zu loschen . Das vers chlagt nicht,dass er nacher ,

‘ein Mittelding zwis chen dem reichen Mann and dem armen

Lazurus’

,

2 1 Lotte dem Freu‘

nde ‘im heiligen Sinne miss

gonn’

c’.

2 2 An Heiraten kann er nicht denken , Carlos Worte

s ind ihm sicher aus der Seele gesprochen :‘Und heurathen !

heurathen just zur Zeit , da das L eben erst recht in Schwungkommen soll

,sich hauslich niederlassen ,

sich einschr'

anken,da

dem Rucken liegen, indem er sich mit einigen Umstehendenterhielt, und ihm recht wohl war. E r hat sich nachher daruber ge

frenet, das ich ihn einer solchen Stellung kennen gelernt.’8 . Jan . 1 773

dachte an all unser Wesen , von dem ersten L ager in Garben

heim, biss zum Mondenmitternachtsgesprach an der Mauer, und weiter.E s war ein schones L eben , auf das ich ganz heiter zuriicksehe.

’

20Dich ’cung und Wahrheit, Teil I I I Buch 1 3. Jubilaumsausg. 24 p.

1 69 .

21 25 . Dec . 1 772 .

22 1 5 . April 1 773.

6 F eise

man noch die Halfte seiner Wanderung nicht zuruckgelegt,

die Halfte seiner Eroberungen gemacht hat.

’23

Wiihrend der Wetzlarer Zeit s chreibt Goethe die Recens ionuber di e Gedichte des Polnisehen Juden , in der sich der Dithyrambus auf Lotte befindet . Die Rezension fiber Salzens ‘

Die

schonen Kuuste die am 1 8 . Dezember ers cheint, ist

wohl ers t in Frankfurt entstanden llud birgt moglicherweises chon Assoziationen zu Jerusalems Schicksal in s ich . Vor

bereitet auf den Gedankengang der Recension war Goethe

dadurch,dass sr schon friiher

‘

die Natur im physikalis chenund moralischen Verstande zu seinem Haupt-Studium ge

macht and von beyden die wahre Schonheit studirt hatte.

’

Ich hebe hier die fiir uns wichtigsten Bestandteile der Besprechung heraus

‘Gehort denn ,

was unangenehme E indrucke auf uns macht ,nicht so gut in den Plan der Natur als ihr L ieblichstes ? Sinddie wfitenden Stiirme, Wasserfiuthen

,Feuerregen ,

unterir

dische Glut,und Tod in allen Elementen nicht eben so wahre

Zeugen ihres ewigen Lebens , als die herrlich aufgehendeSonne uber volle Weinberge und duftende Orangenhaine.

Was wurde Herr Sulzer zu der liebreichen Mutter N atursagen , wenn sie ihm eine Metropolis , die or mit allen schonenKiinsten,

Handlangerinnen ,erbaut l1ud bevolkert hatte, in

ihren Bauch hinunterschl 'ange.

‘Eben so wenig besteht die Folgerung : Die Natur wollte

durch die von allen Seiten auf uns zus tromenden Annehm

lichkeiten unsre Gemiither fiberhaupt zu der Sanftmut und

Empfindsamkeit bilden”. Uberhaupt thut sie das nie

,sie

hartet vielmehr, Gott sey Dank, ihre achten Kinder gegen dieSchmerzen 11nd fibel ah, die sie Ihnen unablassig bereitet, sodass wir den den gh

'

i cklichsten Menschen nennen kounem, der

der starkste ware, dem fibel zu entgegnen , es von sich zu

weisen , 11nd ihm zum Trotz den Gang seines Willens zu gehen .

Das ist nun einem grossen Theil der Menschen zu beschwer

lich, j a unmoglich ,

daher retirien und retranchiren sich di emeisten , sonderlich die Philos0phen ,

desswegen sie denn auch

fiberhaupt so adé quat disputi ren .

‘Was wir von N atur sehn ,ist Kraft , die Kraft verschlingt ,

” Clavigo Akt. I, Se. I, d. j . G . IV p. 1 71 .

Entstehung, Problem and Technik van Goethes‘Werther

’7

nichts gegenwartig , alles vorubergehend, taus end Keime zer

treten jeden Augenblick tausend gebohren , gross und be

deutend, mann igfaltig ins Unendliche schtin llud hasslich ,

gut and bos , alles mit gleichem Reehte neben einander ex is

tierend. Und die Kunst ist gerade das Widerspiel, sie ent

springt aus den Bemiihungen des Individuums , sich gegendie zerstorende Kraft des Ganzen zu erhalten . Schon das Thierdurch seine Kunsttriebe scheidet, verwahrt s ich ; der Menschdurch alle Zustande befestigt sich gegen die Natur, ihretausendfache Ubel zu vermeiden , llud nur das Maas von Gutem

zu geniessen ; bis es ihm endlich gelingt , die Circulation aller

seiner wahr llud gemachten Bedfirfnisse in einen Pallast

einzus chliessen , so fern es moglich ist, alle zerstreute Schonheit und Gh‘

ickseligkeit in seine glaserne Mauern zu bannen ,

wo er denn immer weicher und weicher wird, den Freuden desKorpers Freuden der Seele substituirt, und seine Krafts von

keiner Widerw'

artigkeit zum Naturgebrauche aufgespann t , in

Tugend, Wohltatigkeit, Empfindsamkeit zerfiiessen .

’ 24

Werther, der Philosoph , ist einer di eser Menschen ,die sich

‘retiriren llud retranchiren

’

, einer, dem es ni cht gegeben ist,sich durch seine Kunsttriebe gegen die zerstorende Kraft derNatur zu verwahren . Aueh sr substituiert den Freuden desKorpers die Freuden der Seele 11nd zerfiiesst bis zu einem ge

wissen Grade in Empfindsamkeit.

Am 1 1 . September hat Goethe Wetzlar verlassen , am 10.

October empfangt er die Nachricht von Goué s vermeintlichemTode, An fang November die von Jerusalems . Vom 6 .

-10.

desselben Monats ist er in Wetzlar, vermutlich um genauere

Erkundigungen einzuziehen,am 28 . November dankt sr sein

em Freunde ‘fiir die Nachricht von des armen J (erusalems )

Todt ,’von dem sr

‘das pragmatische Resultat seiner Re

fiecktionen’am 26 . November bereits an Frau von La Roche

geschickt hat, zugleich mit Kielmannseggs Worten :“das was

mir weni ge glauben werden,was ich ihn en wohl sagen kann ,

das angstliche Bestreben nachWahrheit und moralischer Giite,hat sein Herz so untergraben ,

dass misslungene Versuche desLebens und der L eidenschafft, ihn zu dem traurigen Ent

schlusse hindrangten . Ein edles Herz und ein durchdrin“ D . j . G . VI p. 222f.

8 F eisa

gender Kopf, wie leicht von aus serordentlichen Empfindungen ,gehen sis 2 11 solchen Entschliessungen tiber, und das L eben

—was brauch , was kann ich Ihnen davon sagen . Mir istsFreude genug , dem abgeschiedenen Unglii cklichen,

dessen Thatvon der Welt so un fiihlbar zerrissen wird , ein Ehrenmaal inIhrem Herzen errichtet zu haben .

”

Trotz Goethes Beteurung in einem Briefe vom 10. October‘Ieh hoife nie meinen Freunden mit einer solchen Nachrichtbeschweerlich zu werden ’ beginnt der Selbstmordgedanke inseinem Herzen Grund zu fassen . Am 10. November hat er

‘ recht hangerliche und hangenswerthe Gedancken auf dem

Canapes aversichert einigeWochen spater :‘er

schiessen mag ich mich vor der Hand noch nicht ’

(28 . N ov . )und gedenckt Kestners mit. denWorten ‘Wie wohl euch ist undnicht ersehieserlich ’

(6 . Der Beginn des n ‘

achsten F riih

jahrs steigert seine Depress ion . Ein Brief an Johanna F ahlmerbezeugt einen “ Stand von Perturbation in dem os den Seelen ,

sagen sie, nicht vorteilhafft ist aus der Welt zu gehn .

” 2 5

Und im April : ‘Meine arme Existenz starrt zum oden Fels .

Diesen Sommer geht alles und ich bin allein .

Wenn ich keinWeib nehme oder mich erhange, so sagt ich habedas Leben recht lieb 2 6 Und an Frau von La

Roche ich bin allein ,und werd es taglich

mehr .

’ 2 7 Er furchtet also die Einsamkeit , die JerusalemsHerz untergraben hat,

28 kann s ich nicht mehr in einemFreunde bespiegeln ,

2 9 wie es‘das Schicksal der edelsten

Seelen ist, nach einem Spiegel ihres selbst vergebens zu

seufzen .

’ 3° Tief trifft ihn der Tod Uranias .

‘Heut friih

ward sie begraben und ich bin immer an ihrem Grabe,11nd verweile, da noch meines L ebens Hauch und Warme

hinzugeben,und eine Stimme zu seyn aus dem Steine

dem Zukunftigen .

’31 ‘Auf dem Grabe—Ieh will nicht davon

zt‘Marz 1 773.

” 21 . April 1 773.

27 1 2. May 1 773.

2" Anfg. N ov. 1 772 .

7 . Dec . 1 773.

“ 20. N ov. 1 772.

8 1 21 . April 1 773.

Entstehung, Problem and Technik von Goethes‘Werther

’9

wissen will alles vergess en . Vergesst alles in Lottens Armen ,11nd dann arbeitet euerDer Tod Jerusalems und sein eigenes Erleben stehen sicher

in eigenartiger Wechselwirkung . Er sieht sein eignes Schicksal in Jerusalem,

und das fremde Schicksal beeinflusst das

Seine suggestiv . So beklagt er in dem Unglii cklichen s ichselber z—‘

die sehandlichen Menschen ,die nichts geniessen

denn Spreu der Eitelkeit , und Gtitzen Lust in ihrem Herzenhaben

,11nd Gotzen-dienst predigen ,

11nd hemmen gute Natur,11nd ubertreiben und verderben die Kr

'

afl'fte sind sehuld an

diesem Ungliick an unserm Unglii ck hohle sie der Teufel ihrBruder. Wenn der verfiuchte Pfaff sein Vater nicht schuld istso verzeih mirs Gott dass ich ihm Wunsche sr moge den Hals

brechen wie Eli . Der arme innge ! wenn ich zuriickkam vom

Spaziergang and sr mir begegnete hinaus im Mondschein ,

sagt ich er ist verliebt . Lotte muss s ich noch erinnern dass

ich driiber l 'achelte. Gott weis die Einsamkeit hat sein Herzuntergraben” 33 Oh die Wut iiber den Abt Jerusalem auf

Zerwiirfnisse mit dem einigen Vater schliessen l 'asst ? wie

sie auch der Brief von 10. N ovember andeutet : “Der Brief

meines Vaters ist da,lieber Gott wenn ich einmal alt werde,

soll ich dann auch so werden . Soll meine Seele nicht mehrhangen an dem was liebenswerth und gut ist. Sonderbar ,dass man da glauben soll te

,is alter der Mensch wird des to

freyer er werden sollte von dem was irrdisch und klein ist.

Er wi rd immer irrdischer und kleiner. ”34

L iebe, Einsamkeit , edles Herz, durchdringender Kopf, ausserordentliche Empfindungen und das Elend des L ebens , alles

das ist os,was des einen Schicksal dem andern gleich macht .

Kestners Bericht hat ihn “so 0t innig geruhrt—und das

gewissenhaffte Detail der Erz'

ahlung n immt ganz hin .

”3 5 Die

Vertrautheit mit dem Todesgedanken nimmt zu durch Uranias Hinscheiden . Und nun hat sich Lotte verheiratet 11ndsr lebt sich auch in den Teil des Jerusalemschen Schicksalsein . Wir spuren ein Anklingen der Erotik in den Briefen

April 1 773.

8“Anfang N ov. 1 772 .

“ 10. N ov. 1 772 .

als 1 9 . Jan. 1 773.

10 F eise

nach der Hochzeit,wie uberhaupt die Flamme noch einmal

aufschlagt . ‘In der Ewigkeit aber hoife er ihr einen Kuss

geben zu durfen’

,hatte Jerusalem geschrieben .

36 Goethe erinnert sich des Abschiedsgespr

'

achs vom Wiedersehn :‘Wir

redeten wie ’s driiben aus s

'

ah tiber den Wolcken,das weis ich

zwar nicht,das weis ich aber, dass uns er Herr Gott ein sehr

kaltblutiger Mann seyn muss , der euch die Lotte l 'asst . Wenn

ich sterbe und habe droben was zu sagen ich hohl sie euchwarrlich .

’ 37 Und als Kestner den Spas s iibel nimmt,ant

wortet er z‘Mich einen N eider llud N ex er zu heiss en lind

dergleichen mehr, das ist all nur seit ihr verheurathet seyd

und das sag ich euch,wenn ihr euch ein

fallen lass t eifersiichtig zu werden so halt ich mi rs aus euchmi t den treffensten Ziigen auf die Biihne zu bringen 11nd

Juden 11nd Cristen sollen uber euch lachen .

’38 Und wie sehrihn sein Gedachtnis bei Ausfiihrung einer solchen Drohunghelfen wiirde, zeigt der Satz : ‘

Ihre [Annchen Brandts ] Gegenwart hat alles Andeneken an Euch Wieder aufbrausen ge

macht,mein ganzes Leben unter euch

,ich woll t alles er

zahlen biss auf die Kleider 11nd Stellungen so lebhafit

Ein Traum aber, den er in einem Brief von 1 2 . Juni berichtet ,mag vielleicht verraten ,

wie seine Phantasie Al tes 11nd N eues ,Wirkliches und in Wun sch oder E inbildung Erlebtes ver

miseht : ‘Heute Nacht hat mi r ’s von Lotten wunderlich ge

traumt. Ich fiihrte sie am Arm durch die Allee, llud alle

Leute blieben stehn 11nd sahn sie an,Ich kann noch eini ge

nennen die stehen blieben und 111 1s nachsahen . Auf einmalzog sie eine Calesche iiber und di e Leute waren sehr betreten/ Das kommt von Hans ens Briefe der mir die Geschichte von Minden schrieb Ich bat sie sie mogte sie dochzuriickschlagen das that sie. Und sah mich an mit den Augenihr wisst ia wies einem ist wenn sie einen ansieht . Wir gingengeschwind . Die Leute sahen wie vorher. O Lotte sagt ichzu Ihr

,Lotte dass sie nur nicht erfahren class du eines andern

Frau bist . Wir kamen zu einem Tanzplatz . ”GW p. 5 3.

M 1 0. April 1 773.

1 5 . April 1 773.

ebenda.

Entstehung, Problem and Techm’


’1 1

Mitte Juli bearbeitet er seine Situation zum Schauspielzum Trutz Gottes und dei‘ Mens chen ”

, was jedenfall s nichtauf Werther sondern auf Prometheus zu deuten ist ; denn

Prometheus gleich schafft sr in diesem eminent fruchtbarenSommer Geschopfe, die seine E insamkeit beleben und erfreuen ,

‘wenn einem da der Genius nicht aus Steinen und Baumen

Kinder erweckte, man mogte das Leben nicht . ’4°

Das Jahr 1774 findet ihn mit neuem Mut und frischer Kraftund di e Aussichten sind V011 Sonne llud Winterfreuden .

‘Diese dr itthalb Wochen her sind geschwarmt worden ’

, heisstes am ersten Februar

,

‘und nun sind wir zufrieden 11nd glucklich

,als mans seyn kann . Wir sag ich , denn seit dem fiinf

zehnten jenner ist keine Branche meiner Ex isltenz einsam .

Und das Schi cksaal mit dem ich mich herumgebissen habe so

offt, wird ietzt hoflich betittelt, das schone, weise Schicksal,denn gewiss das ist die erste Gabe, seit os mir nieine Schwesternahm, die das Ansehn eines Aequivalents hat. Die Mair

u ist

noch immer der Engel—und das Gefiihl das ich fiir S ie habeworinn ihr Mann nie Ursache zur E ifersucht finden wird,macht nun das Gliick meines Lebens .

’Ob diese Versicherung

nicht ein wenig Selbstiiberredung ist “.2 Sehon im Marz heiss t

es an Frau von La Roche : ‘Ihre L ieben hab ich ein ige Zeit

ni cht gesehen . Ich hatte mein Herz verwiihnt. N ein,liebe

Mama, Sie haben meine Hand darauf ich will brav seym.

’ 42

Gleich darauf muss dann der ‘ Ents chluss in ihm gereift sein ,

das Brentanosche Haus ganz zu meiden ,wohl eher infolge von

innern Vergangen in ihm und zwischen den Gatten selbst als

etwa zwischen Goethe und Brentano.

‘1 3

“ An T. G . Roderer, Herbst 1 773, vielleicht aber und mir wahrscheinlicher wegen einer Anspielung auf Merck, der j a von Mai bis

Dezember nach Rus sland war, F riihling 1 773. Siehe D . j . G . V I,

272 .

‘ 1 Kam Mitte Jaunar nach F rankfurt.42 D . j . G . N o. 21 3, B . IV p. 1 2 ; in N o . 210

‘von ihrer Max kann ich

nicht lassen solang ich lebe, und ich werde sie immer lieben diirfen.

’

“ ‘Glauben S ie mir dass das Opfer das ich Ihrer Max mache sie

nicht mehr zu sehn, werther ist als die A ssiduitat des feurigsten L iebhabers, dass es im Grunde doch A ssiduitat ist.’ (1 6 . Juni 1 774 ) Und

‘Wenn

S ie wus sten was in mir vorgegangen ist eh ich das Haus mied, S iewiirden mich nicht riickzulocken dencken liebe Mama, ich hab in denen

1 2 F eise

Inzwischen aber hat sich durch den leisesten An stoss daslang in ihm Lebende krystallisiert.

‘Das liebe Weibgen hat

Ihnen was von einer Arbeit geschrieben die ich angefangen

habe seit Sie weg sind, wiirklich angefangen , denn ich hattenie di e Idee aus dem Suiet ein einzelnes Ganze zu

meldet er Frau von La Roche, und im Mai :“Meinen Werther

musst ich eilend zum Drucke schicken .

Goethe definiert das Problem seines Werkes in einem Briefean Schonborn (vom 1 4 Juli 1 774) folgendermassen :

‘E ine

Geschichte—dariun ich einen iungen Menchen darstelle, dermit einer tiefen reinen Empfindung , und wahrer Penetrationbegabt

,sich in schwarmende Traums verliert

,sich durch

Spekulation untergrabt,biss sr zuletzt durch dazutretende

unglii ckliche L eidenschafften ,besonders eine endlose L iebe

zerriittet, sich eine Kugel vor den Kopf schiesst . ’N ehmen

wir dazu das ‘angstliche Bestreben nach Wahrheit 11nd moral

ischer Giite’

,von dem Kielmannsegg berichtet , und die Klagen

Jerusalems ‘

iiber die engen Granzen ,welche dem menschlichen

Verstande gesetzt waren“ 5sowie die engen Grenzen ,

die ihm

im beruflichen Leben gezogen werden ,

4 6so haben wi r al le

schrocklichen Augenblicken fur alle Zukunft gelitten, ich bin ruhigund die R uhe las st mi r.

’ Zweite Halfte, Juli 1 774. D . j . G . N o. 232.

“ Mitte F ebruar 1 774. D . j . G . N o. 208 .

45 ‘wenigstens dem Seinigen ; er konnte ausserst betrubt werden,

wenn er davon sprach, was er wissen mochte , was er nicht ergrundenkonne etc .

’GW p. 48 .

46 die Goethe auch kannte , siehe den Brief vom 1 5 . Sept. 1 773‘Ich lieber Mann, lasse meinen Vater ietzt ganz gew'

ahren, der michtaglich mehr in Stadt Civil Verhaltnisse einzuspinnen sucht. und ich

lass es geschehn . Solang meine Krafl’t noch in mir ist ! E in R iss !

und all die siebenfache Bastseile sind entzwey.

’und am 2 5 . Dec .

1 773 :‘Mein Vater h'

atte zwar nichts dagegen wenn ich in fremdeDienste ginge, auch halt mich hier weder L iebe noch Hofi

'

nung einesAmts—und so scheint es kommt ich wohl einen Versuch wagen, Wiedereinmal [zu sehen ] wie’

s draussen aussieht. Aber Kestner, die Talente

und Krafite die ich habe, brauch ich fur mich selbst gar zu sehr, ich binvon ieher gewohnt nur nach meinem Instinkt zu handeln, and damitkonnte keinem F ursten gedient seym. U nd dann biss ich politischeS ubordination lernte—Es ist ein verfluchtes Volk, die F rankf [ur] ter,pflegt der Pras . v. Moser zu sagen, man kann ihre eigensinnigen Kopfenirge nds hinbrauchen . Und wenn auch das nicht ware, unter all meinen

Talenten ist meine Jurisprudenz der geringsten eins .

’0

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

1 4 F eise

Der Unterschied zwi schen Werther llud Goethe ist'

darin

vzu finden , das s Goethe den Ausweg aus dem Kreis des Kerls

,

der spekul iert, und di e schone griine Weide findet ; denn er

‘

verwahrt sich gegen die N atur ’ durch di e Kunst . Erfassen

und wi edergeben ,émx pareiv Bévaceaz hat er gelernt wahrend

des fruchtbaren Sommers von 1773. Werther dagegen ist

eigentliéh kein wirklicher Kiinstler, wie j a Goethes Genie sichauch nicht auf dem Gebiete der bildenden Kuns t adé quat zuaussern vermag . Werthers Kuns t ist mehr ein Ausfluss seinerJugend, sein ‘Wohlgefallen an der Natur ist kein asthetisches ,

sondern ein moralisches ’

,

‘

es ist eine durch sie dargestellte

Idee ’

,die sr in ihr liebt , i . e.

‘das stille schaffende L eben ,

das

ruhige Wirken aus sich selbs t, das Daseyn nach eigenen Ge

setzen,die innere N otwendigkeit . ’49 Es ist di e Sehnsucht des

Sentimentalischen Menschen zum N aiven .

So s ieht Werther 11nd beneidet alle die, welche in harmonischem Gleichgewicht von Wirken 1ind Streben ‘

in der

gliicklichen Gelassenheit so den engen Kreis ’ ihres Daseins

umschreiben und ausfifllen , die Madchen ,die am Brunnen

Wasser sehopfen ,der Bauer, der sein Krauthaupt auf den

Tisch bringt,die Helden Homers , die Patriarchen und zumal

die Kinder, die ihn riihren,weil er ‘

zu der grenzenlosen Be

stimmbarkeit in dem Kinde und zu seiner reinen Unschuldhinaufsieht

’aus der Beschranktheit seines Zustands (Schil

ler ) . Naiv ist auch Lotte, welcher der Autor der liebste ist,in dem sie ihreWelt wiederfindet, und die sich in ihrem engen

Kreise gliicklich fiihlt, der ‘freylich kein Paradies , aber doch

im Ganzen eine Quelle unsaglicher Glii ckseligkeit ist.

’

‘Wie vieles ist denn dein ?Der Kreis den meine Wiirksamkeit erfiilltN ichts drunter und n ichts driiber .

’

So antwortet der schaffende Prometheus .

ein Mensch von Verstande, der nicht so eingeschrankt sey, der mehrVerhEiltnisse ubersahe, zu entshuldigen seyu miichte, konne er nichtbegreifen.

”

“ Die Zitate sind aus dem Aufsatze S chillers, dem, wie mir scheint,hauptsach lich am Werther der Unterschied von naiv und sentimentalisch

greifbar geworden ist.


k von Goethes‘Werther

’1 5

Faust ’s Taumeln von Begierde zu Genuss 11nd ewiges Ent

tauschtsein spricht sich aus in dem Briefe, wo Werther klardie immer wiederholte Unbefriedigtheit seines Sehnens aus

driickt : 5 ° Ich eilte hin ! und kehrte zuruck,und hatte nicht

5 0Goethes ‘Wandrer’ und‘Ganymed

’zusammengenommen umfassen

schon das ganze Problem des Werther : im einen die‘E inschr

'

ankung’

im andern das Ausweiten des Individuums wie es spricht aus dem‘mache mir Raum in meiner engen Brust.’ ( 10. Juli 72 ) fibrigens

scheint mir der E influss von Goldsmith’s

‘Traveller’ auf Werther noch

nicht genugend gewiirdigt zu werden. (Goethe Jahrbuch 1 88 5 . B. V I,

p. 281 -298 ; Modern L anguage N otes 1 902 H6 11 . Man vergleiche z. B.

den Brief vom 21 . Junius und den Brief vom 9 . Mai (Wallfahrt)mit den Versen

But me, not destined such delights to share,My prime of life in wandering spent, and careImpell

’d with steps unceasing, to pursue

Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the viewThat like the circle bounding earth and skies

,

A llures from far, yet, as I follow, flies :

My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,

And find no Spot of all the world my own.

Oder den Brief vom 22 . Mai mit

Thus to my breast alternate passions rise,Pleased with each good that Heaven to man suppliesYet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall,To see the sum of human bliss so small :

And oft I wish, amidst the scene to find

Some spot to real happiness consign’a

Where my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest,May gather bliss to see my fellows blest.

Damit ist nicht gesagt, dass diese Ideen nicht schon Goethes Eigentumgewesen seien, aber die ganze Stimmung des Goldsmith

’schen Gedichtes

findet ihr Echo im Werther

Such are the charms to barren states assign’d,

Their wants but few, their wishes all confined

How small, of all that human hearts endure,That part Which laws or kings can cause or cure !Still to ourselves in every place consign

’d

Our own felicity we make or find.

(Ach so gewiss ist’s, das s unser Herz allein sein Gluck macht) Aber

fiir Goldsmith ist noch reason, faith, conscience was fiir WertherGefiihl ist, d . i . was keinem genommen werden kann und des Menscheneigenstes ist.

1 6 F eisa

gefunden was ich hoffte. 0 os ist mit der Ferne wie mitO

der

Zukunft ! Ein gross es dammerndes Gauze ruh t vor unserer

Seele, unsere Empfindung verschwimmt darinne, wie unser

Auge, und wir sehnen uns , ach ! unser ganzes Wesen hinzu

geben,uns mit all der Wonne eines einzigen grossen herr

lichen Gefiihls ausfiillen zu lassen .—Und ach

,wenn wir hin

zueilen ,wenn das Dort nun Hier wird , ist alles vor wie nach ,

und wir s tehen in unserer Armuth , in un serer Eingeschrankt

heit,und uns ere Seele lechzt nach ents ehliipftem Labsale.

5 1

Und dass er s chon als Kind die Keime des sentimentalischen

Menschen ,des

‘Zerflies sens in Empfindsamkeit

’in sich hatte,

und nicht, wie man zuweilen annimmt,

‘ durchaus gesund ’

,

5 2

war,zeigt die Stelle, wo er auf seiner Wallfahrt der Jugend

zeit gedenkt,da er s chon als Knabe sich ‘

in dem Ans chaun

einer unsichtbaren Ferns verlohr .

’ 5 3 So geht sein Streben

iiber die Grenzen der Menseheit hinaus , sr ‘

iiberwachst sich ’.

5 4

In Stunden der Ruhe oder N iedergesehlagenheit kehren seine

Wiinsche zur Erde zuriiek ; aber auch da zeigt sich der Unterschied zwischen Faus t 11nd Werther : wahrend der eine,

der unersattliche Fors chergeist auch das’

Glii ck der Erde bis

zur Hefe auskostet , sich nicht ‘ retiriert 11nd retranchiert’

,be

gnugt sich die zarter 11nd idyllisch angelegte Jiinglingseele,das Kind zu spielen mit den Kindern ,

den Bauer,indem er

den Bauer idealis iert lind dies Ideal nachahmt , dabei aber

seinen Homer liest oder seine Gedanken zu den Zeiten der

Patriarchen zuruckwandern l'

asst . Bald will ihm auch hier‘Befriedigung ni cht mehr aus dem Busen quillen ’

; denn so

wohl es ihm ist, dass er‘

die simple harmlose Wonne des

Menschen fiihlen’

,

‘die Ziige patriarchalischen L ebens—ohne

“ Brief vom 21 . Juni .“Max Herrmann in der ausgezeichneten E inleitung der Jubilaums

ausgabe, B . 1 6, p. VII I .“ Sein Gegenstiick ist Herman in Goethes Epos

’er streckte

schon als Knabe die Hande nicht aus nach diesem und j enem.

Was er begehrte, das war ihm gemass ; so hielt er es fest auch.

’

(Hermann und Dorothea V . Vers 63

5 ‘* Karl Philipp Moritz’s Ausdruck, der im Briefe vom 1 8 . Aug. den

Mittelpunkt findet. cit. H . G . Graf : Goethe iiber seine DichtungenT. I, B . II no. 987.


’1 7

Attestation in seine Lebensart verweben kann ’ 5 5 -es ist eben

doch nur ein gewaltsames Verweben ,auch hier ein

‘ Schauspiel, aber ach ein Schauspiel nur.

’ W'

ahrend die Kinder,die Landleute, die Altvorden ,

Lotte ihr Leben pflanzenhaft

naiv dahinleben ,ist Werthers patriarchalisches Leben immer

ein Nachahmen ,bei dem sr Schauspieler l1ud Zuschauer zu

gleich is t, eine Dualit'

at, die den Genuss am Ende aufhebenmuss .

Das Ungluck Werthers liegt darin begriffen ; er kann sichnie zur Hohe eines Faust erheben ,

nie den Punkt erreichen ,

wo er durch Handeln,

‘ durch di e mannigfaltigste Ubung undAnwendung [seiner Krafte] —zu dem ihm einzig gemassenVerh

'

altnis mit der Natur ’ gelangt . 5 6 Denn er ist di e Perso

m'

fication der Jugend, kann den fibergang zum Manne’

salter

nicht finden ,den Goethe dureh ihn fand . Mehr lind mehr

vernachl'

assigt er seine t'

atigen Krafte ; ganz Individualist , 5 7wi ll er auch sogleich Wirkungen s einer Tatigkeit sehn 11nd

kann sich nicht als Glied in das Getriebe einer Mas chinefiigen lassen . Die Tatigkeit, die ihm aufgedrangt wird, istseiner Natur nicht gemass ; und damit zeigt sich wohl auchdie

'

Eins chr'

ankung , die dem Menschen des 1 8 . Jahrhundertsaufgelegt ist und der Goethe durch ein wunderbares Ge

schick entrann . Vielleicht galte von Werther,was Lavater

von seinem grossen Freunde sagt : ‘Goethe ware ein herr

liches handelndes Wesen bey einem F iirsten . Dahin gehtirt

er . Er konnte Konig s eyu . Er hat nicht nur Weisheit 11ndBonhomie, sondern auch Kraft . “8 Ob er Kraft gehabt hatte ?Wir konnen die Faktoren ,

die Werthers Untergang herbeifiihren ,

n icht besser zusammenfass en ,als es Schiller in dem

bereits zitierten Aufsatze tut :‘Ein Charakter, der mit

gliihender Empfindung ein Ideal umfass t und die Wirklich65 Brief vom 21 . Juni .“ S iehe K . E . Schubarth uber Werther, cit. H . G . Graf Goethe uber

seine Dichtungen T. I, B . II no. 1046 .

VVenn nicht der mehr thut, der Kartofl

’eln stekt,

und in die S tadt reitet, sein Korn zu verkaufen, als ich, so Will ichzehn Jabre noch mich auf der Galeere abarbeiten, auf der ich nun

angeschmiedet bin.

’

68 20. Oktober 1 774 D . j . G . IV p. 1 1 4.

1 8 F eise

keit flieht,um nach einem wesenlosen Unendlichen zu ringen ,

der , was er in s ich selbst unaufhorlich zerstort,unaufhorlich

ausser s ich sucht , dem nur seine Traume das Reelle,seine

Erfahrungen ewig nur Schranken sind, der endlich in seinem

eigenen Daseyn nur eine Schranke s ieht, 11nd auch diese, wiebillig ist

,noch einreisst , um zu der wahren Realit'

a’

t durchzu

dringen—dieses gef'

ahrliche Extrem des sentimentalischen

Charakters ist der Stofi eines Dichters geworden , in welchemdie Natur getreuer und reiner als in irgend einem andern

wirkt,und der s ich unter modernen Dichtern vielleicht am

wenigsten von der s innl ichen Wahrheit der Dinge entfernt .‘

Es ist interresant zu sehen ,mit welchem gluckliehen In

stinkt Alles,was dem sentimental ischen Charakter N ahrung

gibt,im Werther zusammengedrangt ist ; schwarmerische nu

glii ckliche L iebe, Empfindlichkeit fur N atur,Religionsge

fiihle, philosophischer Contemplationsgeist, endlich , um ni chts

zu vergessen ,di e dustere, ges taltlose, s chwermii thige Oss ian

ische Welt . Rechnet man dazu, wie wenig empfehlend, j awie feindlich die Wirklichkeit dagegen gestellt ist, 11nd wievon Aus sen her alles sich vereinigt , den Gequalten in seine

Idealwelt zuriiekzudrangen , so sieht man keine Mtigh’

chkeit,

wi e ein solcher Charakter aus einem solchen Kreise sich h'

atte

retten konnen .

’

‘

Gliicklicher Instinkt ’—das ist der treffende Ausdruck fiirdie s chaffende Kraft , die Werther mi t all den Ziigen aus

stattete oder die all den auseinanderliegenden Erlebnissen dasgeis tige Band gab . Die Form aber setzt , wie s chon einmalbetont wurde, einen reifen Kunstverstand voraus .

Oh Goethe j e _

erns tlich daran gedacht hat, den Wertheroder einen Teil des ‘ Sujets ’5 9 in dramatischer Form zu geben ,

wie er Kestner androht , ist nicht gewiss . Mir ist os durchaus

ni cht unwahrs cheinlich ; wir wissen :‘Alles verwandelt sich

gleich bey ihm ins Dramatische ’60 in jenem Sommer . Ich

denke mi r den Prozess ungefahr so z Die Einsamkeit, Selbst

mordgedanken ,angeregt durch Jerusalems Geschick, der Tod

Uranias , die Kirchhofsstimmung ihres Begr'

abnisses hat seinem Herzen den Hamlet naher gebracht als zuvor, Scenen aus

l”S iehe den Brief von Mitte F ebruar 1 774. D . j . G . N o. 208.

” Schiinborn an Gerstenberg, 1 2 . Okt. 1 774. D . j . G . III, p. 389 .


’1 9

dem Hamlet erhalten plotzlich ganz neues,innerliches

Leben .

6 1 Die bekannten Anklange im Werther6 2 bezeugen

genugsam die endliche Naherung der beiden Werke . Und

haben nicht beide den Gedanken gemeinsam, das s ihre Heldender Aufgabe, die auf ihre Seele gelegt ist, n icht gewachsen

61 Ich mochte hier eine Vermutung aussprechen, deren Glaubwurdig

keit andre beurteilen mogen. Im Briefe vom 21 . April 1 773 heisstes :

‘Der Tod einer teuer geliebten F reundinn ist noch um mich.

Heut friih ward sie begraben und ich binn immer an ihrem Grabe,

und verweile, da noch meines Leb'

ens Hauch und Warme hinzugeben,

und eine S timme zu seyn aus dem Steine dem Zukiinftigen. Aber ach

auch ist mir verboten einen Stein zu setzen ihrem Andencken, und

mich verdriesst dass ich nicht streiten mag mit dem Gewasch und

Getr'

atsch.

’Sollte ihm da—zumal wenn wir die S telle in Dichtung

11nd Wahrheit auf Urania beziehen diirfen, die von einer heimlichenL iebe fiir ihn spricht ( II I . 1 2, Jubilaumsausg. B . 24 p. 90)—nichtVielleicht der Vergleich mit Ophelias Begrabnis eingeTaHen sein : Die,

welche die Wiirde der L eidtragenden in Anspruch nehmen, stehen der

Toten nicht halb so nah e wie er.

‘Woo’t weep ? Woo

’t fight ? Woo

’t

fast ? Woo’t tear thyself? etc

’

. Und des Konigs ‘Thi s grave shall have

a living monument’wird von Goethe beherzigt, er setzt es ihr im

Werther ( 17. Mai und im Abschiedsbrief an Lotte‘Ich hatte eine

F reundin Die Stelle im Briefe von 2 5 . April ist zu unbestimmt,um irgend eine sichere Deutung zuzulassen :

‘Auf dem Grabe—Ich

will nicht davon wissen, will alles vergessen .

’

62 Brief vom 1 5 . N ovember : Seyn und N ichtseyn . Brief vom 80.

N ov. und die Stelle im letzen Briefe an L otte :‘S terben ! Was heist

das ? S ieh wir traumen, wenn wir vom Tode reden. Ich habe manchensterben sehen, aber so eingeschrankt ist die Menscheit, dass sie fiir

ihres Daseyns Anfang und Ende keinen S inn hat Und auch hierfolgt in enger Verbindung damit die S telle, die von Uranias Be

grabnis spricht : ‘Ich hatte eine F reundin Schon vorher : ‘

Den

Vorhang aufzuheben und dahinter zu treten, das ist all ! Und warumdas Zaudern und das Zagen ?—Weil man nicht weis, Wie’

s dahinteraus sieht? -und man ni cht zuruckkehrt ? etc

’. Brief vom 1 2. August

Der Gedanke an Hamlets Monolog liegt auch hier nahe. Das Schicksaldes M

'

adchens, das sich ertrankt, erinnert im Zweiten Teil dieserepisodischen Erz

'

ahlung eher an Ophelia als an Gretchen ; man ver

gleiche :‘Durch leere Vergnugungen einer unbestiindigen E itlekeit

nicht verdorben, zieht ihr Verlangen grad nach dem Zwecke : S ie will

die Seinige werden Wiederholtes Versprechen, das ihr die Gewissheit aller Hofnungen versiegelt, kiihne L iebkosungen, die ihre Begierdenvermehren, umfangen ganz ihre Seele, sie schwebt in einem dumpfenBewus stseyn, in einem V orgefiihl aller F reuden, sie ist bis auf den

hiichsten Grad gespannt, wo sie endlich ihre Arme ausstrekt, all ihre

0 F eise

sind .

‘

Ein schones,reines

,edles

,hochs t moralisches Wesen

ohne die s innliche Starks,die den Helden macht

,geht unter

einer Last zu Grunde,die os weder tragen noch abwerfen

kann . Das Unmogliche wird von ihm gefordert,

nicht das Menschen Unmogliche, nein ,das ihm Unmogliche

6 3

Sollte die Verwandschaft der Idee nun Goethe n icht eineVerwandschaft der Form suggeriert haben ? Die Stelle im‘Wilhelm Meister ’

,in der der Unterschied von Roman und

Drama diskutiert wird, passt auf den Werther fas t so gut

wie auf den Hamlet : ‘

Der Unters chi ed beider Dichtungsar-ten [ i . e. Roman and Drama] liegt nicht bloss in der

aussern Form ,nicht darin

,dass die Personen in dem einen

sprechen und dass in dem andern gewohnlich von ihnen

erzahlt wird . L eider viele Dramen sind nur dialogierte Ro

mane, lind es ware nicht unmoglich ,ein Drama in Briefen zu

schreiben .

‘Im Roman sollen vorzuglich Gesinnungen und Begeben

heiten vorgestellt werden ; im Drama Charaktere 11nd Taten .

—Das Drama soll eilen und der Charakter der Hauptfigur

muss s ich nach dem Ende drangen 11nd nur aufgehalten

werden . Der Romanheld muss leiden ,wenigstens n icht im

hohen Grade wirkend sein ; von dem dramatischen verlangtman Wirkung und Tat.

—Im Drama modelt der Held nichtsnach s ich

,alles widersteht ihm 11nd sr r

'

aumt und riickt die

Hindernisse aus dem Wege oder unterliegt ihnen .

dass hingegen das Schicksal , das die Menschen,ohne ihr Zu

tun ,durch unzusammenh '

angendeaussere Umstande zu einerunvorgesehenen Katas trophe hindrangt, nur im Drama statt

Wunsche zu umfassen—und ihr geliebter verlasst s ie—u . s . w.

’Und

iiber Ophelia in‘Wilhehn Meisters Theatralische Sendung

’

(Buch V I

Cap. 9 )‘R eife siisse S innlichkeit ! Ihre N eigung zu dem Prinzen,

auf dessen Hand sie Anspruch machen darf, ist so geradehin sichselbst iiberlas sen, dass Vater und Bruder beide furchten, warnen. Der

Wohlstand wie der leichte F lor auf ihrem Busen kann die Bewegungihres Herzens nicht verbergen 11 nd wird vielmehr selbst ihr Verrather.

Ihre E inbildungskraft ist angesteckt, in stiller Bescheidenheit athmet

sie Verlangen, L iebe, und wenn die bequeme Gottin Gelegenheit dasBaumchen schuttelt, so f

'

allt die F rucht.’

63Wilhelm Meisters Theatralische Sendung, Buch VI Cap 8 .


2 F eise

den Helden im best'

andigem Monologe vor uns sich mi t demauseinandersetzen sehn ,

was ihm zustiisst ; j a selbst wo der

epis che Bericht eintritt , wird er moglichs t dramatisch gestal tet ,wie wir noch weiter un ten ausfiihren wollen .

Die Teilung des Werkes in zwei Halften ist nicht eigentlichvon der Handlung bedingt ; sie tritt da ein , wo GoethesWetzlarer Erlebnisse 11nd starkerer biographis cher Anteilaufhoren . E ine Dreiteilung w

'

are dem Sinne nach logis cher,indem die Zeit der Vita activa ein unlyrisches Intermezzo

bildet . Wir ko'nnten un s die zwei Schnitte auch so denken,

das s wirklich drei Akte eines Dramas ents tehen : Der erste

Akt wurde sich bis zur Mahnung des Freundes erstrecken . Al

bert ist angekommen,das resolute ‘ ich werde gehen ’

ist Wiederwankend gewofden ,

11nd wir lassen naeh dem Fallen des Vorhangs das ‘wenn ich nur wu sste wohin ? ich ginge wohl ’ inuns nachklingen . Was wird er tun

“.2 In der zweiten Bear

heitung ist dieser Schnitt durch den Hinweis auf Werthers

Tagebuch verst'

arkt : Er blickt zuruck i1nd sieht wie sr‘

so

wissentlich in das alles,Schritt vor Schritt

,hineingegangen ’

ist. Der Hohepunkt des Aktes w'

are dann die Ballscene.

Der zweite Akt,mit der Trennung als Kl imax

,geht bis zum

Ende der Vita activa und Riickkehr zu Lotte. Und Wiederist er dureh einen Zusatz in der zweiten Bearbeitung starker

abgesehlossen :‘

Ja wohl bin ich nur ein Wandrer, ein Waller

auf der Erde ! Seid ihr denn mehr ? ’Von da geht es ab

warts dem Ende zu im dritten Akte,nicht ohne auch den

dritten noch einmal leise zu halbieren mi t dem ‘Mir ware bes

ser , ich ginge ’des Briefes vom 1 2. Dezember. Z‘ahlen wir die

Seiten der ersten Ausgabe, so finden wir in der Tat drei

ziemlich gleiche Stiicke : 76,67

,79 mit der Unterteilun g :

45 31 , 34 33,31 48

,Anfang und Ende also etwas

iiberwiegend.

Innerhalb der Akte bewegt s ich die Handlung spiralen

formig , jede Seite von Werthers Wesen wird Wieder 11nd

Wieder 11nd jedesmal voller beleuchtet.

‘Der Altar muss erst

gebaut,geziert lind geweiht sein eh die Reliquien hineinver

wahrt werden,und ich wiinschte die ganze Stelle ers t weiter

hinten , wenn der Charakter und der Sinn Rosaliens s ich mehr

entfaltet haben, eingepfianzt zu sehn ,

wie ich denn auch mit


’23

der sussen Melankolie von verirrter Empfindung die den ers ten

Brief fii llt,das Ganze gewurzt sehn mochte

,und S ie bitte

die ersten Briefe mit ganz simplem Detail wo Gefiihl und

Geist nur durchscheint zu erofinen .

’ So lauten die Rat

schlage an Sophie von La Roche, die zur Richts chnur fiirWerther geworden sind .

Der ers te Brief zeigt uns einen jungen Menschen , dessen

Herz frei ist, dessen Seele, zur Melankolie neigend, mehr inder Vergangenheit als Gegenwart lebt , der sein Streben ‘

nachWahrheit und moralischer Giite ’ dadurch Zeigt , clas s er den

Menschen gerecht zu werden trachtet (di e Tante im Briefvon 4. Mai ) . Sein Verhaltnis zur Natur tritt stark hervor11nd wird charakterisiert durch seine Stellung zum englischenPark. Dann gleich ein vollerer Akkord : Natur lind philos0phische Contemplation ,

Unf'

ahigkeit des krattigen kiinstlerischen ‘

Dreinpackens’

, ein idyllischer N achklang in der Be

schreibung des Brunnens . Biicher werden zuriiekgewiesen ,

sein Herz braucht Ruhe, seine sii sse Melan cholie geht leichtin verderbliche Leidenschaft uber , und sr ist nicht gewohnt,seinem Herzen etwas zu versagen . Nun folgt eine Orientierung gegen die Menschen nach

'

oben 11nd unten : nuchterne

Pedan ten sowie verzerrte Originale sind ihm verhasst , seineSehnsucht geht naeh den

‘

eingesehrankten Menschen ’

,den

naiven ,unbewuss ten . Aber sr kann s ich mit ihnen doch nur

‘Vergessen ’

, er ist einsam, erst in der Bespiegelung mit einemcongenialen Geseh

'

opfe fiihlt er sich selbst . Erwahnung

Lottens !

22 . May : Das Thema der Einschrankung wird aufgenommenund ausgefiihrt, t

'

atige 11nd fors chende Krafte s ind einge

schrankt ; di e ersteren richten sich nur noch auf‘die Be

friedigung von Bedurfnissen ,die wieder keinen Zweck haben

als unsere arme Existenz zu verlangern’

; ein Vernachlassigen

des Gebrauchs der forschenden Kraft bedeutet ‘nur traum

ende Resignation .

’So wendet er sich von der Wirklichkeit

zum Schafien einer Welt in der eignen Seele, aber weder klarspekulativ noch tatig kiinstlerisch

,nur traumend gefiihls

massig. Die Beschrankung der t'

atigen Krafte wird illustriertdurch die Menschen

,die durch das Zuckerbrot von Orden

11nd Titeln regiert werden,die der fors chenden durch Ge

24 F eise

lehrte und Philosophen ,die ihren Lumpenbeschaftigungen

prachtige Titel geben . Al les weis t den Menschen in s ichzuruck.

So ergiebt sich Werther der freiwilligen Eins chrankung

eines idyllischen L ebens . Die Stellungnahme dos Genies gegenRegeln and Convention in L iebe 11nd Kunst deutet vor auf

Lotte, Albert und di e Vita activa (26 May ) . Die Episode von

der Bauernfrau betont von neuem das Gliiek der Eins chr'

ank

ung (‘ der Anblick eines solchen Geschfipfs , das in der gliick

ichen Gelass enhei-t so den engen Kreis seines Daseyns aus

geht Auch das ist eine Vordeutung auf den hoheren

Typus Lottes . Hier folgt dann in der zweiten Bearbeitun gdie Bauernbursch-episode, di e auf die L iebe vorbereitet mitden Worten :

‘ieh

,wie selbst davon entziindet, lechze 11nd

schmachte.

’

Der Brief vom 1 6 . Jun i ist ganz dramatis ch , ganz Vergangenheit in gegenwartige Wirkung aufgelo

'

st. Lotte stellt

den Typos der bewussten Einschrankung dar , der Werthersofort anziehen muss . Eine bose Stimmung kann bei ihr nichtaufkommen ,

denn bei ihr ist die Kunst, wenn auch noch so

primitiv, ein Schutz gegen das L eben . Naiv und unbewusst

geht sie ganz im Tanze auf, versichert freimutig , ‘ das s sie

herzlich gerne deuts ch tanze ’

(wozu damals noch Mut gewahrend Werther nicht umhin kann zu bemerken ,

dass ein Madchen ,das er liebte

,

‘nie mit einem andern walzen

sollte, als mit ihm.

’Auch sie hat Sinn ffir die Erhabenheit

der Natur und borgt sich den kiinstlerischen Ausdruck dafii rvon Klopstock . Albert , zweimal erwahn t, wird dennoch nichteigentlich eine Realitat fiir Werther. ‘

Die ganze Welt ver

liert s ich um mi ch her ’

,dieser doppeldeutige Ausdruck mar

kiert den ersten Einschn itt .Der Brief vom 21 . Junius nimmt das Thema der Ein

schrankung vom neuem auf mit bewusster Anwendung auf

Werther selbst , der sich als sentimentalische Natur charakter

isiert (“Wenn das Dort nun Hier wird , ist alles vor wie

naoh,11nd wir stehen in uns erer Armuth ,

in unserer Einge

schranktheit, 1lud unsere Seele lechzt naeh entschliipftem

N eue freiwillige Einschr '

ankung in N achahmung” Jubilaumsausgabe 1 6 . 386 .


’25

primitiver N aturen ,Aufblick zur Unbegrenztheit der Be

stimmbarkeit des Kindes , Einleben in Lottes Familie. Die

Nussbaumepisode mit der Eifersucht des Herrn Schmidtdeutet auf Albert vor

,von dem Werther rahmt dass sr

‘ wenig uble Laune ’hat ; Werther ’

s Betragen zeigt seine un

gobeurs Erregbarkeit,

6 8ebenso der Brief vom 6 . Juli mit dem

resignierten Ausklang,der zu der frohen Stimmung, die

vorausgeht , in scharfen Kontrast s teht . Das Wachsen der

L eidenschaft,das bis j ezt nur angedeutet ist, findet starken

Ausdruck im Briefe vom 8 . Jun i und erf'

ahrt von nun an

eine angstliche Steigerung. Vorboten des Ungliicks in seiner

Hofinung auf Gegenliebe, die durch die Erw'

ahnung des

Br'

autigams in uns gleich zu nichte werden . Ein leises Hineinspielen phys icher Anziehung am 1 6 . Juli . Der Gedanke

an Selbstmord (‘zur Zeit

,wo ich mir eine Kugel vor ’

n Kopf

schiessen ist vorbereitet durch Xus serungen unt’

er

dem 22 . Mai und 1 . Juli (‘

um deinetwillen muss ich leben ’

)sowie .die Idee des Gehens s ich von

‘ Eure Idee—dass ichmit dem Gesandten nach— gehen soll ’ (20. Juli ) s teigert uber‘ ich werde gehen ’

(30. Juli ) , ‘ ich ginge wohl ’ (8 . Aug. )‘ ich

muss fort ’

(3. Sept. ) zu‘Ich gehe—Wir sehen uns wieder .

’

(10. Sept . ) Der Gedanke an die Vita activa,hier noch nicht

der Seine,wird erst am 22 . August von ihm ernstlich erwogen .

Indess en n immt die alles verschlingende L eidenschaft s tet-igzu trotz Alberts Ankunft.

Der zweite Akt mit dem Brief vom 1 2 . August n immt die

Idee des Entweder Oder vom 8 . August unmittelbar auf‘

durchstehlen’ kann sr s ich nur mit dem Selbstmord

,und

die Diskuss ion 6 9arbeitet mit den gleichen Mitteln der Illus

$13 Interessant ist hier, wie ofl'

enbar die Gegenwart die Vergangheit

(oder vice versa) beeinflusst. Die Kranke der Erinnerung ist j edenfallsUrania von L ila gepflegt ; von diesem Bilde ubertragen sich nun Zugeauf L otte .

69 Die Diskussion, zwar auch vielleicht Goethes eignem L eben an

gehorend, mag zuruckgehn auf Kestners : ‘Mendelsohns Phadon war

seine liebste Lecture ; in der Materie vom Selbstmorde war er aberimmer mit ihm unzufrieden ; wobey zu bemerken ist, dass er desselben

auch bey der Gewissheit von der Unsterblichkeit der Seele, die er

glaubte, fur erlaubt hielt Als neulich das Geriicht von Goué sichverbreitete, glaubte er diesen zwar nicht zum Selbstmorde f

'

ahig, stritt

26 F eise

trierung psychicher dureh phys ischer Vorgangs . Im Briefevom 10. Augus t deutet das Symbol der fortgeworfenen Blumen zuriick auf das Degenabnehmen des 1 3. Juli ; er ist jetzt‘all seiner Ehren lind Wurden entsetzt,

’Albert wird ein Amt

erhalten : das bedeutet , er wird heiraten kiinnen . Die erste

Verstimmung zwischen den beiden Mann ern lasst uns einen

spatern Konflikt ffirchten . Werther selbst formul iert klardas Problem in dem Satze : ‘ Sieh den Menschen an in seiner

Eingeschranktheit, wie Eindriikke ani’

ihn wurken,Ideen

s ich bey ihm fest sezzen , bis endlich eine wachsende L eidenschaft ihn aller ruhigen S inneskraft beraubt , lind ihn zu

Grunde richtet ! ’ Nun zeigt der 1 8 . Juli deutlich , wie er sichiiberwachsen hat, die Aussiohtslosigkeit der Zukunft wird ihmklar , di e Kunst ist ihm seit der Entfernung von der N atur

n ichts mehr,die Hoffnung auf vita activa wird rege ( ‘Oft

bens id ich aber auch Zweifel,ob os n icht vielleicht

nur‘

das Sehnen in ihm nach Veranderung des Zus tands ,eine innre unbehagliche Ungeduld ’

ist. Ein Aufleuchten im

Geburtstag sbrief, dann aber fiberwaltigt ein Umherirren in

der Natur 11nd im Mondschein 70und der verzweifelte Ausruf :

‘Ich seh all dieses Elends kein Ende als das Grab .

’Die Ab

schi edseene mit der wundervollen symbolischen Geste des

Schlusses lass t nicht eigentlich eine Hofinung in uns auf

kommen,dass dies Aufraffen Werthers ihn retten wird . Trotz

dem wird eine gewisse Erwartung rege, oh er imstande seinwird

,das

‘

Oder ’durchzufiihren .

Die Vita activa beginnt nun in ahnlicher Weise wie derers te Teil ; die Menschen und die Atmosphare werden gege

ben ,mit denen er kontrastiert wird : der Gesandte, das

aber in Thesi eifrig fur diesem, wie mi r Kiehmannsegge und viele, dieum ihn gewesen, versichert haben . GW p. 48 .

7° ‘E r entzog sich allezeit der menschlichen Gesellschaft und den

ubrigen Zeitvertreiben 11nd Zerstreuungen, liebte einsame Spaziergangeim Mondenscheine, gieng oft viele Meilen weit i1nd hing da seinem

Verdruss und seiner L iebe ohne Hofi‘

nung nach . Jedes ist schon im

S tande di e erfolgte Wirkung hervorzubringen . Er hatte sich einst

in einem Walde verirrt, fand endlich noch Bauern, die ihn zurecht

wiesen, und kam um 2 Uhr zu Haus .

’ Kestner iiber Jerusalem GW

p. 48 .


’27

‘Volk ’ mit dem glanzenden Elend und der Ran'

gsucht7 1

auf

der einen Seite, der Graf, den sr achtet , auf der andern ;alles indessen weniger plastisch , weil ihm diese Welt selbs t

Vollig unreal ist.

‘ Selbstvertrauen lind Genugsamkeit ’wunscht

er sich 11nd definiert den Vorstellungsprozess des Sentimenta

lischen Menschen gleich im ersten Briefe :‘

Unsere E inbildungskraft , durch ihre N atur gedrungen

sich zu erheben ,durch die phantastische Bilder der Dichtkunst

genahrt, bildet s ich eine Reihe Wesen hinauf, wo wir dasunters te s ind

,und alles ausser uns herrlicher ers cheint , jeder

andre vollkommer ist. Und das geht ganz natiirlich zu : Wirfuhlen so oft, das s uns manches mangelt , lind eben was uns

fehlt,scheint uns oft ein anderer zu bes izzen ,

dem wir denn

auch al les dazu geben was wir haben ,lind noch eine gewi sse

idealisehe Behaglichkeit dazu ,11nd so ist den Gliikliche voll

kommen fertig,das Geschopf unserer selbst .

’Die Beriihrung

mit der Wirklichkeit tut ihm in der Tat gut, indem sie sein

Selbstvertrauen hebt , weil ein Vergleich mit der Umgebungvorteilhaft fur ihn selbst ausfallt . Aber sr gesteht ihr imGrunde keine ‘ raison d ’

etre ’zu so kann der Zusammenstoss

nicht ausbleiben : der Gesandte verklagt ihn bei Hofe,7 2 der

Minister muss ihm einen Verweis erteilen,obwohl sr ihn

7l im Briefe vom 8 . Jan .

‘Vorige Woche gabs bey der SchlittenfahrtHandel, und der ganze Spass Wurde verdorben, ’ geht vielleicht auf

ein wirkliches Ereignis zuriick . Gloel (Goethes Wetzlarer Zeit, Berlin 1 91 1 p. 223) fiihrt einen Brief von J . H . Giinther vom 1 Januar1 779 an, der ahnliches berichtet : ‘

Oft stellte er [Graf v. Bassenheim ]allgemeine Schlittenfahrten an, aber auch da gab

’

s gewohnlich Handel .’

Giinther mag indessen hier unter dem E influss Werthers stehen wie

auch in andern Briefen . S iehe (31061 p. 5 5 .

Jerusalem ist die ganze Zeit seines hiesigen Aufenthalts missvergnugt gewesen, es sey nun uberhaupt wegen der S telle, die er hier bekleidete, und dass ihm gleich Anfangs (bey Graf Bassenheim) der

Zutritt in den grossen Gesellschaften auf eine unangenehme A rt versagtworden, oder insbesondere wegen des Braunschweigischen Gesandten,mit dem er bald nach seiner Ankunft kundbar heftige S treitigkeitenhatte, die ihm Verweise vom Hofe zuzogen sein hiesiger Aufent

halt war ihm verhasst GW p. 47.

28 F

schatzt.

7 3 Die einzige Seele, die ihn versteht 7 4 (und durchdie techn isch F iihlung mit Lotte erhalten wird ) ist durchdie verhassten Grenzen der Konvention von

' ihm getrenn t .

Die Scene beim Grafen beendet seine Laufbahn,der E indruck

seiner Unruhe und Rastlos igkeit ist durch das Wandern ver

starkt und dieWallfahrt di ent der Vertiefung der Idee : ‘mitwie viel fehlgeschlagenen Hoffnungen , mi t wie viel zerstortenPlanen ’

er aus der Welt zuriickkommt,in die er s ich einst

in gliiklicher Unwissenheit hinaus gesehnt hat. Das Herz be

kommt wieder seinen Willen (Brief vom 1 8 . Juni ) , das‘Entweder ’

ist unmoglich , das‘

Oder ’ist missgliiekt.

Nun setzt die Entt'

auschung auch in Lottes Nahe ein,

Schlag auf Schlag .

7 5 Seine letzte Hoflt'nung klammert sichan den Gedanken , das s Albert Lotte nicht glucklich machenkann . Von aussen werfen die Geschicke andrer (Bauernfrau ,

Nussbaume) triibe Schatten in sein Herz,alles ist anders , alles

vergeht . Seinen Anzug muss sr ablegen ,

7 6 Oss ian (erw'

ahnt

beim ers ten Aufflammen der Leidenschaft , 10. Juli ) ersetzt

Homer ; der Gedanke an das Ende nimmt uberhand ; die

Der Gesandte, deucht mich, sucht auch die Aufmerksamkeitganz von sich, auf diese L iebesbegebenheit zu lenken, da der Verdrussvon ihm wohl zugleich Jerusalem determiniert hat ; zumal da der Ge

sandte verschiedentlich auf die Abberufung des Jerusalem angetragen,

und ihm noch kurzlich starke reprochen vom Hofe verursacht habensoll. Hingegen hat der Erbprinz von Braunschweig, der ihm gewogengewesen, vor kurzem geschrieben, dass er sich hier noch ein weniggedulden mogte, und wenn er Geld bediirfe, es ihm nur schreibensollte, ohne sich an seinen Vater, den Herzog, zu wenden .

’

GW p.

5 3. Dies letztere im Werther 1 9 . April : ‘Der E rbprinz hat mir zum

Abschiede fiinf und zwanzig Dukaten geschickt, mit einem Wort, dasmich b is zu Th ranen geriihrt hat.

’

F raulein B . ist L ila. S iehe Erich Schmidt, a. a. 0 .

75 Der Brief von 20. F ebr. , dem ein erster Brief an L otte vom 20.

Jan. vorausgeht, benutzt Ziige und Ausdrucke aus Goethes Briefe vom

ca. 6 . April 1 773, aber auch wieder nur Ziige. Das‘E s geht mir ein

Schauder durch den ganzen Korper, Wilhelm, wenn Albert sie um den

schlanken Leib fasst,’

gegen den friiheren‘Re spekt’ Kestner-Alberts

kontrastiert, mag auf die‘manietes ’

(Merck 1 4 F ebr. 74, D . j . G . IV

p. 76 ) des Brentano-Albert zuruckdeuten.

7 ° N ach Kestner’s Bericht : E r war in volliger Kleidung, gestiefelt,im blauen Rock mit gelber Weste.

”


30 F eisa

Abgrund, Vielleicht angeregt durch Kestners : ‘Man hat

ihn auch um diese Zeit eine ganze Weile am Fluss stehensehen ,

in einer Stellung,als wenn sr s ich hineinstiirzen wolle ’

.

Anderseits wird Ossians‘

seebespiilter Fels en’ hier sowi e

spater, wo man Werthers Hut ‘

auf einem Felsen , der an dem

Abhangs des Hiigels ins Thal s ieht’findet, zur S cenerie bei

getragen haben .

In Kestners Bericht s ind die Ereigni sse auf Vier Tage ver

teilt : Am Dienstag Todesstimmung ; am Mittwoch das Essenmi t Herd, der Besuch bei Frau Herd und die Liebesscene, derGang nach Garbenheim lind unterdess en Herds Heimkehr

und Argwohn ,

7 9 das Verlangen der Frau,Jerusalem das Hans

zu verbieten ; am Donnerstag der Billetwechsel, die Bitte um

di e Pistolen ,Kramen in Papieren und Bezahlen von Schulden ,

der italienische Sprachmeister , Ausgang auf die starkeWeide

und an den Fluss,Vorbereitungen ,

Briefe an die Seinen 11nd

an Herds ; nach Mitternacht , also Freitag friih , der Schuss ,am Morgen die Entdeckung , am Abend das Begr '

abnis .

In Werther wird dasselbe auf Sonntag,Mon tag

,Dienstag

und Mittwoch verteilt . Voraus geht eine knappe Kons tatierung der Lage :

‘Werthers L eidens chaft hatte den Friedenzwi schen Alberten 11nd seiner Frau allmahlig untergraben ’

das entspricht dem Brief an Herds von Donn erstag ;—‘ dass

er die Ruhe und das Gluck seiner Ehe gestiirt und unter

diesem theuren Paar Uneinigkeit gestiftet ’

. Das MisstrauenAlberts

’

findet sich vorgebildet bei Herds Heimkehr am Mittwoch

,doch diirfen wir hier natiirlich auch Goethes Erfahr

ungen im Haus e Brentano n icht vergessen . Das Einschranken

des Verkehrs resp . Aufgeben wird von F rau Herd gefordert .

Werthers Selbstmordidee ist natiirlich bei Jerusalem als

treibende Kraft vorhanden 11nd auch bei ihm ist es‘keine

iibereilte, rasche That ’. In der Rekapitulation z 'ahlt der Her

ausgeber als Motive auf :‘Den Verdruss bei der Gesan dt

schaft (dasselbe Wort bei Jerusalem ) , gekr'

ankte Ehre, wunderbare Empfind 11nd Denkensart, endlose Leidens chaft,Verl 'oschen der stetigen Kraft, E insamkeit 1i nd Umgang mitLotte. Dann am Sonntag ein Brief an Wilhelm und nun der

7’Wir konnen wohl annehmen, dass Goethe auch den‘N achtrag

’

Kestners (GW p. 5 5 /6 ) wenigstens dem Inhalte nach gekannt hat.


’31

Besuch bei Lotte, die ihn bittet'

nicht vor Donners tag wiederzukommen .

8 0 Diesen Abend geht er nicht aus , wie Jerusalem ;

aber hier wie da der Bediente, der ihm die Stiefel ausziehnwill (bei Jerusalem allerdings dies erst am nachsten Tage) .

Der Briefwechsel mit Herd £2111 ganz fort , statt dessen be

ginnt Werther den Abs chiedsbrief an Lotte, der amnachsten

Morgen (Montag ) und Abend, Dienstag Morgen, Abend und

Nacht eingeriickt wird . In dem Auftrage an den Bedientenhandelt es sich llm diesselben Sachen : Fertigmachen zur

Reise, Schulden bezahlen ,nur dass Goethe sich nicht entgehen

lasst , einen Beweis fiir Werthers Streben ,

‘nach moralischer

Gute ’

einzufiigen durch den Befehl : ‘

einigen Armen , denener wochentlich etwas zu geben gewohnt war , ihr Zugetheiltesauf zwey Monathe voraus zu bezahlen . Werther wie Jerusalem essen zu Hause. Der Besuch beim Amtmann gehort

nur Goethe, ebenso der Brief an Lotte ; hier'

dann ers t der

Besuch bei Lotte,der zur Liebesscene fiihrt, die bei Jem salem

am Tage vorher stattgefunden hatte : ‘Jerusalem habe s ichvor ihr auf di e Knie geworfen 11nd ihr eine f6rml iche L iebeserkl

'

arung thun wollen . S ie sey naturlicher Weise dariiber

aufgebracht worden und hatte ihm viele Vorwurfs ge

macht . ’ Das Kanapee ist wohl das Lottens , auf dem Goethe

einst hangerliehe lind hangenswerte Gedanken hatte. Der

Ausgang aus dem Stadtthor nach dem Felsen en tsprichtJerusalems Gang durchs S ilbertor auf die Starks Weide

,jener

verliert seinen Hut, dieser hat ihn ‘ tief in die Augen ge

driickt.

’

Dies waren die Vorgangs am Montag . Von dem entsprech

enden Mittwoch im Kestnerbericht ist also die L iebesscene

heriibergenommen , alles iibrige ist vom letzten ,dem Donners

tage geborgt lind wird nun im Werther am Dienstag wi ederholt 11nd variiert . Zuerst wird das B illet an Kestner fas twortgetreu eingeruckt, nachdem ein neuer E intrag in LottesBrief gemacht ist, der mit dem Gedanken an ein Wiedersehndroben endet . Das ist natiirlich ein Zuruckgehen auf den

Schluss des ersten Teils , mag aber zugleich angeregt sein” ‘N ein, Lotte, ich werde S ie nicht wieder schu l’ z ‘

L iebe F rau Se

cretairin, diess ist der letzte Kafi’

e’

e, den ich mit Ihnen trinke.

’GW p.

49.

2 F eise

durch Jerusalems : ‘In der Ewigkeit aber hoife er ihr einen

Kuss geben zu diirfen’

und‘In jenem L eben sehen wir uns

wieder,’ehe er s ich ers chiesst. N achgeholt wird die Er

zahlung von Lottes Befinden ,die Heimkehr Alberts und ihr

11nd Lottes Verhalten —‘ denn indem sie Zitterte, er wiirde

das verwein te iiberwachte ihrer Augen und ihrer Gestaltentdekken

,ward sie noch verwirrter, bewillkommte ihn mit

ein er heftigen Umarmung, die mehr Bestiirzung und Reue,

als eine aufl’

ahrende Freude ausdrukte,lind eben dadurch

machte sie die Aufmerksamkeit Albertens rege,der

,nachdem

er ein ige Briefe 11nd Pakets erbrochen,sie ganz trokken fragte

oh sonst n ichts vorgefallen, oh niemand dagewesen w

'

are.

Das Hintenherum Alberts findet man bei Herd vorgebildet‘Nachdem der Mann wieder kommt , bemerckt sr an seiner

Frau eine ausserordentliche Erns thaftigkeit and boy Jeru

salem eine Stille, welche beyde ihm sonderbar und bedencklich

geschienen , zumal da er sie nach seiner Zum ckkunft so sehrverandert findet. Jerusalem geht weg . Secret . H . .machtuber obiges seine Betrachtungen ; er fass t Argwohn ,

oh etwa in

seiner'

Abwesenheit etwas ihm nachteiliges vorgegangen sein

mochte, denn er ist sehr argwohnis ch und eyfersii chtig . Er

stellt sich jedoch ruhig und lus tig ; and wil l seine Frau auf

die Probe stellen . Er sagt (GW p .

Der Moment,wo

'

der Knabe ers cheint und di e Pistolen holt ,der mit der grossten Meis terschaft von Goethe behandelt ist,hat natiirlich kein Vorbild ; trozdem mag jedoch eine Suggestion gegeben sein durch das Benehmen des Italien ischen

Sprachmeisters Kielmannsegg gegeniiber :‘

da er denn von

nichts als von Jerusalem,dessen Unruhe und Unmuth spricht ,

ohne j edoch van seiner Besorgm’

ss zu erwdhnen , indem ar

geglaubt, man moge ihn deswegen auslachen .

’

(GW p .

Am N achmittag gehen Jerusalem wieWerther kleine Schulden zu bezahlen ,

Werther wieder ‘ vor ’s Thor ’

und in den

grafiichen Garten ,schweift ‘weiter in der Gegend umher

’

(mi t nochmaliger Benutzung von Jerusalems Gang , ‘Vor das

S ilberthor auf die starke Weide Dann der Brief an

81 Diese Idee kommt allerdings erst eigentlich in der Bearbeitunghinein, besonders durch die S telle, die mit ‘

N och ein sonderbarer Umstand kam dazu beginnt. Jubilaumsausgabe 1 6 p. 1 39 .


’33

Wilhelm und die Mutter and an Albert , die in der Vorlagevor dem Schuss stehen . Hier ‘

in dem zweyten hat or H .

umVerzeihung gebeten ,dass er die Ruhe und das Glii ck seiner

Ehe gestort, und unter dies em theuren Paar Uneinigkeitgestiftet . ’ Dort : ‘

Ieh habe dir ubel gelohn t , Albert , lind davergiebst mir . Ich habe den Frieden deines Hauses gestortich habe Misstrauen zwischen euch gebracht . ’ Dann ‘ kramt

Werther ‘

in seinen Papieren ’wie Jerusalem am Nachmittag,

zereisst vieles , Wle j ener vor dem Schreiben der Briefe, las stim Ofen noch etwas nachlegen 11nd sich einen Schoppen Weingeben . Das , sowie di e B emerkung, dass der Diener sich mi tden Kleidern n iedergelegt , weil 11 111 6 Uhr die Abreise statt

finden soll , ist beiden Berichten gemeinsam .

Und nun wird das Ende wieder ganz dramatis ch gestaltet .Der letzte E intrag am Briefe ist ein Monolog

,der di e scen

ischen Bemerkungen zum Teil einschliess t (‘ Ieh trete ans

Fenster,meine Beste, und seh lind sehe noch durch die stiirm

enden voriiberfiiegenden Wolken einzelne Sterne des ewigenUnd wie vermag uns der letzte Satz in die volle .

Illusion des Theaters zu vers etzen ! ‘

S ie sind geladen—os

schl'

agt zwolfe ! So sey ’s denn -Lotte ! Lotte leb wohl ! L eb

wohl ! ’ Mit den Augen zwinkernd erwarten wir den Schuss

lind glauben fas t eine akustische Empfindung zu haben, so

dass die sachliche Bemerkung, die folgt, erlosend wirkt .Die Uberleitung, die Kestner giebt, dass man die Kugel nirgends finde

,ist unbrauchbar, weil den dramatischen Gang

unterbrechend ; ‘

der F ranciskaner Pater Guardian ’ wird

zum einfachen Nachbar,der N ebensatz mit dem Perfectum

zum Hauptsatz mit dem Imperfect . Dass der Bediente sowiedie Leute nach hinten hinaus schliefen

,ist mit Bedacht von

hier fortgenommen und bereits am Abend voraus ges chickt,ganz beil

'

aufig .

8 2 Kestners Vermutung , wie die Tat geschehnsei

, wird iibersprungen ,und der Bediente erlebt am Morgen

82 Kestner : ‘Der Bediente hatte di e vorige N acht wenig geschlafen

und hat sein Zimmer weit hinten hinaus, wie auch die Leute im Haus ,

welche unten hinten hinaus schlafen.

’ Werther und nachdemer um zehn Uhr im Ofen nachlegen und sich einen Schoppen Wein

geben lassen, schikte er den Bedienten, des sen Kammer wie auch dieSchlafzimmer der Hausleute weit hinten hinaus waren, zu Bette

4 F eise

di e ganze Scene . Das s das L icht ausgebrannt war, ist auchunbrauchbar, weil es eine Beschreibung des Vorgefallenenist.

‘Er s ieht Jerusalem auf der Erde liegen ,

bemerkt etwasNasses und meyn t er moge s ich ubergeben haben ; wird aber

die Pistole auf der Erde , 11nd darauf Blut gewahr ’ wird mithochs ter kiinstlerischer Okonomie zusammengezogen in

‘

ar

findet seinen Herrn an der Erde , di e Pistole und Blut . ’So

geht sprungweise das Erfassen des Vorgangs im Kopfe desDieners vor sich .

8 3 ‘Er ruft : (Mein Gott, Herr Assessor, was

haben S ie angefangen ; ) sr fas st ihn an (= schii ttelt ihn )

(er giebt) keine Antwort , er (= und) rochelt nur noch .

Nun bringt er die Nachricht zu Albert and Lotte, wo sr in

Kestners Bericht ‘zu Medi cis ’ lauft . Was bei Kestner in

direkte Erzahlung Dr. Helds ist, wird hier zur di rekten

Beobachtung des Arztes , auch hier zusammengedrangt. Die

Aufnahme des Tatbes tandes , wie er gestorben sein mus s , dieKes tner gleich nach dem Schuss giebt wird nun

, ebenfalls

knapper,hier eingefiigt

KestnerE s sche int sitzend in Lehnstuhlvor seinern Schreibtisch gescheh

en zu seyu. Der Stuhl hinten im

Sitz war blutig, auch die Arm

lehnen. Darauf ist er vom Stuhl

heruntergesunken, auf der Erdewar noch viel Blut. Er muss

sich auf der Erde in seinem Blute

gewalzt haben ; erst heym Stuhlewar cine grosse Stelle von Blut ;

die Weste vorn ist auch blutig ;er scheint auf dem Gesiebte ge

legen zu haben ; dann ist er weiter,um den Stuhl herum, nach dem

F enster hingekommen, wo wiederviel Blut gestanden, und er auf

dem Riicken entkrii ftet gelegen

hat. (Er war in volliger Kleidung,gestiefelt, im blauen R ock mit

gelber Weste .)

WertherAus dem Blut auf der Lehne desSessels konnte man schliessen, er

habe sizzend vor dem Schreibtische die That vollbracht. Dann

ist er heruntergesunken, hat sichkonvulsivisch um den Stuhl herum

gewalzt,

er lag gegen das F enster ent

kraftet auf dem Riikken, war in

vtilliger Kleidung, gestiefelt, im

blauen F rack mit gelber Weste.

9”Ich gebe im folgenden in Klammern die Erweiterungen bei Kestner ;wo dieser abweicht, wird das mit bezeichnet.



’35

Und weiterhin dann im Werther gleich anschliessend , beiKestner nach der Kons tatierung des ArztesDas Gerucht von dieser Begeben Das Haus , die N achbarschaft, dieheit verbreitete sich schnell ; die S tadt kam in Aufruhr.ganze Stadt war in Schrecken und

A ufruhr. Ich horte es erst um

9 Uhr, meine Pistolen fielen mir

ein, und ich weiss nicht, dass ichkurzens so sehr erschrocken bin.Ich zog mich an und gieng hin .

E r war auf das Bette gelegt, die

S tirne bedeckt, sein Gesicht schonwie eines Todten, er riihrte keinGlied mehr, nur die L unge war

noch in Bewegung, und rochelte

fumchterlich, bald schwach, bald

starker, man erwartete sein . Ende .

V on dem Wein hatte er nur ein V on dem Wein hatte er nur ein

Glas getrunken. H in und wieder Glas getrunk en . Emilia Galotti

lagen Biicher und von seinen lag auf dem Pulte aufgeschlagen.

schriftlichen Aufsatzen . EmiliaGalotti lag auf dem Pult am F en

ster aufgeschlagen ; daneben ein

Manuscript ohngefahr finger’dick

in Quart, philosophischen Inhalts ,der erste Theil oder Brief war

fiberschrieben : Von der F reiheit,

es war darin von der moralischenF reiheit die R ede

Das s die ‘Emilia Galotti ’

zumWerther nicht passt , ist schonoft bemerkt ; da

‘

s‘Manuskript ’ dagegen hat Goethe Verandert

s chon vor dem letzten Briefe eingefiigt :‘S ie enthielten

kleine Aufsatze, abgerissene Gedanken ,deren ich ver

s chiedene gesehen habe ’

. Aufiallend ist, dass ihm die Diskre

panz des Lessingschen Dramas mit Werthers Denkart ent

gangen ist, wo er doch im E inklangs mit Werthers unsys

tematischem Geist aus demManuskript ‘Kleine Aufs '

atze’und,

abgerissene Gedanken ’ machtDas Ende muss dann bis auf die Bes chreibung von Wer

thers Beerdigung selbstandig ausgefiihrt werden . Hier wirdfii r

‘Abends 34 1 1 Uhr

’

,das einerseits wohl in der dialek

t ischen Verschiedenheit der Berichterstatter bedingte, ander

A lbert trat herein. Werthern

hatte man auf’s Bett gelegt, die

S tirne verbunden, sein Gesichtschon wie eines Todten, er riihrte

kein Glied, die L unge rochelte nochfiirchterlich , bald schwach, bald

starker, man erwartete sein Ende.

36 F eise

seits aber auch suggestivere und wegen der ungenaueren

Zeitangabe poetis ch bessere ‘Nachts gegen eilfe

’

eingesetzt .

Die Barbiergesellen werden zu Handwerken , das Kreuz fehlt.

Auf die zweite Bearbeitung des Romans will ich hier n ichtmehr eingehen ,

sie ist schon wiederholt untersucht 8 4 und dieIdee derselben

,Werthers Tod noch unvermeidl icher er

scheinen zu las sen ,klar gezeigt. Erwahnen will ich nur noch

eins : durch die Wiederann'

aherung der Eheleute 11 nd Ver

edlung Alberts ist auch , was der letzte Brief Werthers (‘

Sie

liebt mich ! —Und was ist das , dass Albert dein Mann ist ?

—u . s . Peinliches haben konnte,in dem auch die Tragik

in ihr L eben hineingespielt, aber kiinstlerisch nicht weiter verfolgt wird

,getilgt . Wir wissen nun

,

‘ dass ihn wohl der leidenschaftliche Jiingling , aber doch der L eser nicht verkennt . ’ 8 5

Damit ist die Verstimmung zwischen Albert and Lotte als

voriibergehend gekennzeichnet und der Werther in der That‘

ein ige Stufen b iiher geschraubt ’

ERNST F EISE .

University of Wisconsin .

84 Jubilaumsausgabe B. 1 6 . p. XXX V 111 ; F ittbogen im EuphorionXVI I p. 5 5 6 Lauterbach in Quellen und F orschungen, Strassburg1 910.

85 An Kestner, 2. May 1 783.


38 S eiberth

have as a sound element of a word. The sound is thus takenout of those relations with other sounds in which it alwaysoccurs ; as a matter of fact it has no independent ex istenceat all. ToWundt this notion appears to partake of somethinglike mysticism . At any rate, the unexceptionable phoneticlaw is the grammarian ’

s or the phonetician ’s abstraction and

construction . The fact that sound-change is dependent on

the context of sound, that it is . the con tact and association of

a sound with other sounds which causes its modifications ,had not become clearly evident to the philological mind .

Furthermore, the inability to think in terms of evolution and

of psycho-phys ical processes , is seen in the untenable general

theories by which philologis ts tried to account for the variation and mutation in language

,generally . To quote from

Wundt : “ Here we find the assumption s till widely currentin lingui stic s cience

,that every general change in sound or

meaning, is to be referred to one, individual deviation . Whilenumerous other variations were lost , one, falling happily inwith an ex isting tendency, became usual . This cooperativetendency itself is generally held to be totally independent ofthe individual origin of the change. It is sometimes as cribedto the interest in the novelty of the thing , but especially tothe imitative instinct in human nature. Now,

in as much as

the original individual departures , especially in the domain

of phonetic change, are supposed to be of purely accidentalcharacter, and owing to th eir absolutely incalculable nature,defy every attempt at ascertaining their condi tions , thistheory of the transition from the occasional to usual phenom

ena,manifestly evades the ques tion of causation altogether.

Or , instead of answering it, it points to the sociologi cal law of

imi tation , according to which no individual can do anything

striking or contrary to custom,without his associates succumb

ing to the suggestive influence of such an action . Under this

theory of imitation ,chance is literally made the creator of

all social phenomena,and cons equently of society its elf. Now,

to be sure, chan ce plays an accessory part in many cas es , butit hardly ever assumes the pri ncipal role in the deeper and

more incis ive general changes of communal life and its pro

ducts . Ou the contrary , wherever we are able to investigate

A S tudy in the Principles of Linguistic Chuwye 39

the condi tions of such changes , though the las t and decis ivecause be unknown, they are regularly found to be such as

could not have started from an individual , or a limited number of individuals , but must depend upon influences whichaffect all members of a community, or, at least , the majorityof them .

”

The same failure to see the development of language as

a vital thing, genetically, gave rise to theories of a teleolog

ical character . Thus,when it was assumed that there is an

instinctive tendency toward eas e, a desire to facilitate speechby following the line of least resistance, also a more or less

conscious tendency to simplify,accompanied by an endeavor

to make language uniform . N ow,it is true that linguistic

development has made articulation and express ion simplerand eas ier, and it is really by this fact alone, that we are

j ustified in regarding the history of language under the form

of progress ive evolutionary development . It is sentimental

fogyism and a curious pessimism to speak of“ laziness ”

and“slovenliness ”

as having caused a“ decay”

of words . Whatis really economy of effort and convenient systemi zation was ,until quite recently, looked upon as a loss and corruption of

the fancied greater beauty and Virility of the older language.

From the tendency toward uniformity,it was thought , arose

the use of so-called “ false analogy” which led to a decay of

forms and a blurring of distinctions . This reprehens ible drifttoward ease and degeneration was

,however, fortunately of]?

set by a sort of instinctive purpose to preserve significant

distinctions of sound and mean ing. One is at a loss to under

stand why the idea of decadence should have commended

itself so insistently to philological speculation . It seems para

dox ical to think, that the function of speech is in any sense

decadent , when the race is,intellectually, rapidly pro

gress ing and in no way decaying.

It is sufficiently clear from this cursory review that suchtheories are constructed upon wrong foundations . There are

the two fatal errors , involving self-contradi ction and whollyincompatible with the idea of growth : that language is con

sciously made, and again that it is a product of accident .We can now pass on to an outline summary of Wundt

’s

0 S eiberth

views touching change in language. He begins by a very sane

caution :“The question ,

how a nation in the course of cen

tar ies can change the phonology of a word beyond recogni

tion cannot possibly be answered in a thoroughly satisfactoryand exhaustive manner . To do this we shoul d have to accountfor the nature and extent of all those changes which haveoccurred through inner and outward circumstances in the

entire intellectual and physical nature of the speaking com

munity . We can only say that such changes take placeirresistibly, receiving little attention when they first begin to

appear.

There are, according to Wundt,three principal causes of

change, working more slowly or rapidly at different times

(1 ) The influence of external or natural (physical ) con

ditions . (2 ) The mixture of races and nations . (3) The

efiects of culture and civilization . These factors may cc

operate. The first is naturally very slow. Race mixture isconnected with incisive historical events . It is to the influence

of cul ture that we must look for the causes of the steady

and slow permutations,which are always and everywhere

going on,even when external conditions may not seem to

change. Of these changes , lan guage is , perhaps , the mostsubtle manifes tation .

At this point,a fundamental principle of evolution must

be introduced,for which we are indebted to biological re

search . It is bas ed upon the observation that through the

gradual accumulation of slight changes , great sudden muta

tions are prepared. Tendencies that were for a long time

more or less latent are apt to be liberated by sudden new in

fluences , so that new varieties arise with surpris ing rapidity .

Thi s law of mutation teaches us to regard a long period of

apparent stagnation as an interval of res t and incubation ,

naturally and necessarily preceding greater advances . Now,

psychi cally, a significant advance in culture produces a great

mob ility of ideas and emotions ; there is a new wealth and

greater variety of thought,and such tension and stimulation

of mental life, that greater rapidity and eas e of the combina

tive mental processes is bound to follow . It is hardly neces

sary to insist,at much length , on this point ; it is a self-evident

A S tudy in the Principles of Linguistic Change 41

fact . N ow,it is quite certain that at all periods of histary ,

marked by a pronounced cultural advance, language, too,enters into a new phase of development . So the high cultureof the nobility in the twelfth century throughout CentralEurope

,the German Reformation ,

the Elizabethan period,the renewal of all intellectual and artistic life a hundredyears ago in Germany, are epochs of language as well . At

every cultural mutation,the language reshapes itself to meet

the need of new and better expression , and the result is always

greater flex ibility ,conciseness and vivacity. Wundt says

“On general principles it is not improbable that the rate of

speech must keep a fairly even pace with the higher rate of

psychological reactions caused among other things by growingcul ture.

”Lamprecht ’

s interpretation of historical development

,which rests upon the recognition of great psychological

difierences between the periods of history, places strong em

phasis on the much higher nervous sensitiveness of the modernperiod , especially . We are, therefore, fully j ustified in con

cluding that the greater vivacity of thought,and the greater

eas e of our psychological adjustments , have caused the tempoof speech to become more rapid . This influence of the rate

of speech Wundt pronounces “one of the most incisive fac

tors in change, although it has received but little attentionfrom philologists hitherto.

”

In the psychology of the individual , cerebration and the

motor apparatus are so closely connected that the speed of articulation is in exact ratio with the force of stimulation . Slow,

halting speech means a slow working of the brain ; ready

utterance is rapid,unimpeded thinking . Intelligent and im

aginative persons are not only,as a rule

,fluent speakers ,

but they are also very apt to have high vocal p itch ; for itseems that a faster rate of speech generally produces and re

quires a higher tone, due to the quicker Vibration of the vocal

chords and to higher overtones . Strong sound-stress and

word accent , too , naturally raise the pitch . Wundt mentions

the well-known fact , that not only do we play the mas ters of

class ical music faster today, but the orchestral ins trumentsare also keyed to a perceptibly higher pitch than a hundred

42 Seiberth

years ago, and one might add that rap id parts are naturally

assigned to the high instrumen ts .

The purpose of this s tudy in psycho-philology is to show

that this acceleration in the psychological and mental processes , leading to more rapid articulation , can be set downas the strongest and most fundamen tal cause of linguisticchange. To recognize it as a motive force

,mus t logically im

ply acknowledging it as the principal psychological groundof change. When we compare modern English with the language of Malory and these again with Old English it is clearat once that the sum and substance of change in word-formsand in the manner of expression is a reduction and shortening .

If this is due to the fas ter rate of speech , the ques tion is ,

how does acceleration of tempo produce the effect ? Wundt

shows that it works mainly through sound-contact . The co

gent proof of this theory is furnished s imply enough by ex

perimental reproduction of the whole process , i . e., most of

the effects of sound-contact will occur at once when we ac

celerate articulation . We will in this way get assimilationsof sound both regressive and progressive, which are the chi efphenomena of. phonetic change.

“This evidence is all the

more valuable as it extends over all known civilized languagesand over the most vari ous periods of lingui stic and culturaldevelopment . ” Wundt gives the following examples : WhenLatin supmus passes into summus

,sedla= = sella ; factus = fat

to ; fluctus= fiotto ; habte= hatte ; entfinden = empfinden ,or

progress ively vulba= = vulva ; klimben = klimmen, the connec

tion of these changes with accelerated articulation is provedby the very fact that all these words change very readily

from the first to the second form when we articulate fas ter.Al l the phenomena of contraction

,as similation ,

dissimilation,

all sound-induction can be readily explained as results of

accelerated speech . The tendency of sounds to attract or

repel increases with the rate of speech and is now vastly

greater than in the slower, majestic pronunciation of the older

language, evident from the length and full sound of the older

words . Elision ,contraction ,

and di scarding of prefix es and

suffix es , by which forms are much curtailed , cannot have hadany cause other than the greater celerity of articulation . The

A S tudy in the Principles of Linguistic Change 43

fact that assimi lation and contact-change are in the modern

period mainly regressive, again appears as the resul t of the

more rap id flow of speech , attendin g higher intelligence, causing a forward-bound movement of ideas , which is reflected in

the regressive influence of a sound upon the preceding sound ,by anticipation . In the slower speech of the older period ,as also in the language of children ,

progressive assimilationis found to predominate.

At all events we mus t learn to regard every sound and

every word as being under the influence of a great variety of

assimilating forces . Thus in the series : Dach , Sache, poche,suche, Zeche, Sichel , the eh is a different spiran t in every case.

The organs of articulation are, in every one of these words ina different position when the spirant comes to be sounded ,owing to the differing quality of the preceding vowel which isdetermined by the consonant preceding it as well as by thevowel of the following syllable. (cf. Wundt )Naturally the variability of sounds is increased by di ffer

ences in the place of articulation , duration , intensity, and

p itch of sound . A clear illus tration of the efiect of accentshifting is found in those Franco-English words in whi ch theaccent has been thrown back as far as possible, reducing thequantity and quality of all following syllables : admirable,é x ecrable

,ignominy

,absolutism .

A few general observations on speech—tempo may be added ,in no strict order of arrangement . While in accordance wi ththe law of mutation changes crop out suddenly and grow ra

pidly , a point of stand-still is naturally reached, even reversions are not excluded . The English of America shows signsof a return from the terseness of English accent to fullerand heavier pronunciation , e. g .

,library

,hotel

,before, mi lk

man, etc. The rise of round-about expressions , in place of

forgotten concise English idioms is a similar phenomenon .

At any period of his tory, a nation which is in the lead in

tellectually , is very apt to exhibit the effects of speech-tempo

at the most advan ced point . So,at the beginn ing of the

modern period , English and French had gone considerablyfarther in the process of reduction ,

and were far more concisein style than German ,

whose progress was retarded . Wundt

44 S eiberth

points out that such bi-lingual men as L eibn iz and Frederickthe Great , must have thought and spoken fas ter in Frenchthan in German .

Difierences in the rate of speech can be observed between

young and old persons , between the old and young genera

tions ; between persons of higher and lower culture,or at

the vari ous stages of an individual ’s intellectual development ;between persons of equal culture but of different tempera

ment , also between times of greater vigor and better spiritsand periods of fatigue and depression ,

when pitch will also becorrespondingly higher and lower . We speak with greater

ease and precision on topics wi th which we are convers an t,

than we do when we have to think hard to find our way

through a question . It is hardly necessary to say that the

rate of: speech is by no means always a certain index of in

telligence, as shallow people are often amazingly voluble and

Vice versa.

The known conservatism of language acts as a check on

change. Perhaps our age of universal printed literature willtend to arrest language relatively longer at its present stagethan ever before. A fully correct idea of the present state

of phonetics cannot be derived from our present orthography,but only from exact phonetic transcriptions or records .

PHILIP SEIBERTH .

Washington University .


46 Pettengill

Das ist das rechte urtail meinMan sol im ainen stecken geben,

201 80 Da mit er were sein leben,

N och ze gross noch ze kranck,

E r soll sein ainer elen langk .

Den gibt man im in di tencken hant,Da mit sein wer ist bekant.

Ain plosser rock ist sein elaid,Uber ain hemde an gelayt.

Di frauwe soll hie aussen gan,

Ainen stauchen in der hende han

Mit riemen dar ein gepunden,

201 90 Swer pey dreyn pfunden.

Di stauch soll wesen leynein

U nd zwayr elen langk sein.

Von mitten morgen untz an den tag

Ob sy im nicht an gewynnen mag

So soll der man sein genesen

U nd ledig von der frawen wesen.

S lecht aber sy in ze tod

Oder er sey, sy hat di not

U nd ains das ander uberwunden

20200 Sus ist das recht erfunden.

After some Oppos ition from Silvian this program is followedout. F lordelise leaves him for dead but he revives and con

fesses , whereupon the crowd wishes to burn him alive.

In connection with this episode Singer and Bockholf , in

their study which appeared two years since, 3 correctly mention the reference in the Chronick von Bern 4 to a contestthere in 1 288 between a man and a woman

,in whi ch the

woman was victorious . Although the conditions are not given ,

they may well have been s imilar to those in the Ap . and to

those soon to follow,and the suggestion that Heinrich got his

idea from a detailed account of this combat is not a bad one,

even though the case can not be proved .

8 A . Bockhofl’u. S . S inger : Heinrich’

s v. N . Ap. V . T. und seine

Quellen. Tiibingen 1 91 1 , pp. 78-79 .

‘ Justinger : Chronick von Bern, cd. Stica u. Wyss, Bern 1 81 9, p.

38 ; the same, cd. G . Studer, Bern 1 871 , p. 296, cf. further Studerin Archiv d. hi st. Vereins v. Bern V , 5 34 ; the same notice is found

also in Joh. Stumpf’s Gemeiner loblicher Eydgenoschafit S tetten, L an

den und V olkeren Chronick, Ziirich 1 5 48, fol. Bk . VI II chap . VI,p. 2 5 Oh.

Ah Episode in Heinrich’s Von N eustadt Apollonius 47

Fortunately, however , there is abundant evidence to showthat the episode is drawn from contemporary law. In at

least two law-books conditions for this form of combat are

set forth which agree substantially with those in the Ap . and

the origin of each is geographically nearer Heinrich than isthe chron icle case.

In Ruprecht ’s von F reisingen Bairisches Rechtbuch 5

-135, entitled von der notnunft, state the conditions

under which a woman may take action,then we read

Ist dev frawe nicht magt gewesen so mus si in ansprechenmit einem kamph . oder mit den laeutten . ez sein frawn oder

man . di zu dem R iiffe chomen sint do er die notnunft tan hat.

unt mag deV frawe selb dritt war gemachen . hintz dem not

nutter. daz er si benott hab . ir eren . so sol man uber in richten .

also daz man in sol haupten . wirt ir aver ein kamph ertailt.

so sol man den notniifter ein di erd begreben . un tz an den

nabel . also daz tzwischen und der Erd . ein wagen sail 11mgen mug . das sr s ich umb mug gereiben . lind sol man im di

tenken hant hintter den Rukke pinten . und sol im einenchamphcholben ein deV hant geben . lind sol einen rinch straen

um in mit stro. ein der weit . daz er sei . mit dem cholben

erlangen mug lind sol man . der frawen einen s tain . ein ir

stauchen geben der ein pfunt hab . des gewaegs . daz ein

markeh tu . und sol ir den stauchen . inderhalb der hant untzin di Hant bewinden . daz er rog . lind swes si den s tauchenlasz hangen . so sol . der stainsweben . dar inne ob der Erd .

einer gesatzten hant hoch . man sol in paiden griezwaertel

geben . nach champhes recht gesigt di fraw. so sol man dem

mann daz haubt abslahen . gesigt aver der man . so sol man der

frawen newer di hant abslahen . Daz ist dar um gesetzet. daz

nicht gewonleich ist daz ein traw einem manne an ge

siget

Article XXXI of theAugsburger Stadtrecht vom Jabre 1276(ed . 0. Meyer

,1 872 ) deals with the same subject . If the case

is proven by witnesses , the ofiender is to be buried alive.

Ist aber, daz di e notnumpht n iemen gehoeret noh gesaehen

hat, kumt diu trowe ce clage, so sol man den manne, den s i

der notnumphte zihet, dristunt furbieten als recht ist. Kumt1‘Written 1 332, cd. L . Westenrieder, Miinchen 1 802 .

48 Pettengill

er danne fur , so ist recht , daz er berede mit sin eines hant,

daz er unschuldic si . Wil aber diu frows sins rechtes niht lindwilz im wern ,

daz muz si tun mit eime kamphe mit ir selbeslibe, also daz der man sol sin begraben unz an den nabel

,

unde sol er in s iner hant haben einen aichinen stap , der sol

einer dumellen lanch s in unde sleht ane gevaerde und hant

vollic. So sol diu trowe ein roeclin an ir haben unde in ir

stuchen einen fustgrozzen stein . Gesigt danne dem man an .

so sol man uber in rihten also,daz man in laebendigen be

graben sol. Gesigt aber der man der frowen an , so ist reht,

daz man si auch lebendig begraben sol .

The editor refers to the F reisingen Recht as the only other

occurrence of such conditions known to him,but there are at

leas t two other accounts,different in some important respects

but agreeing in other points even more closely with the Ap .

The first, contained in a Ms . at Wolfenbiittel, was sum

marized by Christian Thomasius .

6 Not having access to

Thomas ins ’ work at this time,I can give only the following ,

quoted by Friedrich Majer in his Geschichte der Ordalien(Jena 1 795 , p . 271 f. )

“Der Mann s tehet in einer runden etwas weiten Gruben

,

hat in der rechten Hand einen Kolben,mit dem er

nach der Frauen schl 'agt , er darf aber nicht herausgehen ,

noch der Frauen nachlaufen ,auch nicht einmal

mit der freyen Hand sich an die Grube oder das Erdt

reich anhalten,bey Verlust des Sieges . Die Frau hat einen

Schleyer in der Hand , in welchem vornen ein Stein von

etlichen Pfunden geknupft ist, vomit sie nach dem Mann

schl'

agt . Wenn die Frau dem Mann hinter den Rii cken kom

men kann ,bemiihet sie s ich

,dessen Kopf hinterwerts aus

der Grube zu ziehen lind ihn zu wurgen ; parirt der Mann

den Schlag mit dem Schleyer mit dem Kolben aus , so um

wickelt sich der Schleyer um den Kolben ,11nd erlangt dadurch

die Frau Gelegenheit , dem Manne den Kolben aus der Hand

zu reissen . Parirt aber der Mann den Schlag mit dem lincken

11nd freyen Arm aus , so umwickelt sich der Schleyer um den

Arm,1ind hat der Mann also Gelegenheit die Frau zu sich an

“Diss . de occasione , conceptione et intentione instit. crimin . carolinze,

Halle 1 71 8, 4 §XIX not. r. pm. 22 .

Ah Episode in Hetnm’

ch’s Von N eustadt Apollom

'

us 49

di e Grube zu ziehen,da sr dann trachtet , di e Frau in der

Mitte des L eibes zu fassen lind sie in die Grube zu ziehen auchzuweilen umzukopeln , etc.

’

The tactics here described show marked resemblance to

those employed in the poem :

20261 S i sprang umb in als ain kitzU nd slug im ains ‘

nu hab dir ditz !’

Ye doch der slag was nit gross :Die schone lutzel sein genoss ;

Wann der ungerte knabeSlug ir aines mit dem stabe

Aufi’

den leib und aufi’ di wat

Da der ruck ain ende hatt,Das sy mit lautter stymme sehre,

20270 Wann ir det der slag vil we.

Sy sprach ‘du giltest mi r den slag,

E s ensey dann das ich nit mag.

’

S i hawt her und dar umb ih .

Manigvalt was ir syn.

Da sy den slag zu im swayff,

Pey dem gem er sy pegraifl’

.

Er zoch sy pey dem elaideZu im. do ward layde

Al len den di es sah'

en.

20280 Gemainklich sy j ahen‘F lordelise di ist tod .

’

Di magt was in grosser not.

Ir stauchen vaste umb wand :S i slug im ains

‘

aufl" di hant,

Das im sein kampfstecke en viel.Do slug sy im ains aufi

’

den schielUnd dar nach ains aufi

'

den slaf,

Das er reret als ain schafi’.

V ol'endet het sy ir not,

20290 S i liess in ligen da fur dot.

The second account is given by Ephraim Gerhard 7and

again I am forced to quote from Majer (p . 273)Der Mann stehs t in einer mitten im Kreise gemachten dreiSchu weiten Grube bis an den N abel

,die Frau aber stehet

zehn Schuhe weit davon . Ein jedes hat drei Stabe. Die des

Mannes sind ohngef’

ahr eine Elle lang, lind zwei Zolle dickim Durchmesser ; die der Weibsperson sind von gleicher L '

aings7 Diss. de j udicio duellico, Jena 1 71 1 , cap. III §6 und Anhang.

5 0 Pettefngill

und Dicke, vorne aber ist an jeden derselben ein gewohnlich

drei Pfund s chwerer Stein gebunden . Mit diesen Waffen

greiffen die Kampfer einander an . Schlagt der Mann nachder Frau , vers ieht es aber dabei lind greifi'

t mit der Hand anden Rand oder den Erdboden des Grabens

,in welchem er

steht , hat er einen von seinen Stticken verloren . fibereilt sichaber die Frau , und s chl 'agt , indem der Mann sich auf die

ebengedachte Art vergehet, nach ihm,verliert sie ebenfalls

einen von ihren Stocken . Wer nun auf diese Art seine drei

Stahe zuers t einbiisst, der ist iiberwunden lind wird fiir

schuldig gehalten .

This account is even less like Heinrich ’s than the preceding

yet it is of interest in as much as it may bear witness to the

extent to which such laws exis ted and also by reason of the

statement of the average weight of the stone allowed the wo

man . It certainly will be worth while to ascertain the time

and place of the writing and also the character (probablylegal ) of both these Mss . which may contain more interestingmaterial .Whether or not Heinrich was led to insert this episode by

some account of an actual combat,perhaps that at Berne, it

is clear that some form of the law relating to die Notnunftlies at the bottom of the matter and the ex is tence of such lawsin Augsburg and especially in F reisingen—Heinrich occupieda house in Vienna which belonged to the Bishop of Freisingen—which show close correspondence with his account ,even in the wording, makes the assumption plaus ible that heeither drew his inspiration di rectly from the law or at least

took over the conditions of the combat from that source.

The unparalleled choice and treatment of this bit of con

temporary law proves conclusively that Heinrich possessedsome degree of originality. This point should be borne inmind when consideri ng the second part of Singer ’

s study

(cf. note 3) in which he gives his cleverly conceived theoryof a lost Byzan tine source for Heinrich ’

s Ap . The present

writer is inclined to attri bute other additions to the Historiato Heinrich who may have had quite as ready access to thesources as the Byzantine author hypothecated by Singer.

P EN GIL L .

Harvard University .

R W ETT

The F able“ F rosch und Mans

”5 1

THE FABLE F ROSCH UND MAUS AS FOUND IN

LUTHER AND HANS SACHSOn Apri l 23

,1 5 30 Kurfiirst Johann of Saxony went to

the Augsburg Reichstag . He would have been glad of Lu

ther’s presence there but did not venture to bring him over

the borders of his own terri tory . That he might still be inthe neighborhood however, he gave him as a res idence hiscastle at Koburg . With characteristic diligence Lutherplanned to make use of this time for literary production . In

a letter to Melan chthon he explains his project of erecting herethree tabernacles “

Psalterio unum,Prophetis unum et

Aes0po unum.

” 1 Twice again in his letters from Koburg to

Melanchthon on May 12 and to Wenzel L ink on May 28 he

mentions his projects .

2 From these referen ces it can be safely

assumed that the small collection of Luther ’s fables dates from

his res idence in Koburg , that is , between the dates of April

23 and October 5 , 1 5 30. Unfortunately his plan to make a

complete collection of Aesop ’

s fables was not destined to becarried out. His intimate friend and arden t champion ,

Jo

hann Mathesius , refers to the wri ting of the 1 6 fables “ mit

einer sehr gelerten Vorrede.

”In reality there were only 13

fables , Mathesius’s error here res ting on a mistake in number

ing that was also carried over into the printed editions .

3

Luther ’s purpose in preparing this collection is plainly ex

pressed in his introduction which was probably written at

the same time as his fables . After explaining the value of

fables as a means of instru cting youth in an agreeable wayhe adds with regret in speaking of the fables then available

Darfiber so schendliche unzfichtige Bubenstfick darein ge

mischt , das kein zfichtig , from Mens ch leiden ,zuuor kein jung

Mens ch , one s chaden lesen oder kan Darumb

so bitten wir al le frome Hertzen ,wollen denselben Deudschen

schendlichen Esopum ausrotten , und diesen an sein stat ge

brauchen .

”4 His purpose in the work then , was to purify1 Enders, L uthers Briefwechsel VII p. 302 .

3 Enders, L uthers Briefwechsel V II pp. 332 and 346 .

F or a scholarly treatment of the subj ect, see E . Thiele, L uthersF abeln

”N eudrucke L iteraturwerke des 1 6 . und 1 7 . Jahrhunderts. No . 76.

‘ Thiele, Luthers F abeln, p. 20.

5 2 Cla/rk

this branch of literature and make it again one which coul dreally ofier moral instruction . He had always recogn ized thevalue of thus coating a wholesome moral pill of reality wi ththe sugar of un reality and employed this method on variousoccas ions

,1n sermons

,conversations , letters and as a means

of instructing h is own son .

In now turn ing directly to the fables of Aesop he was

treating a material well-known to the reading world of his

time. Vari ous ones of the fables as cribed to Aesop had beenappearing in the German literature of the Middle Ages s incethe time of Charlemagne. But however well -known individualstories may have been they were accessible to German readersas a complete collection in only one form

,namely the transla

tion by Heinrich Steinh tiwel, printed in Ulm between 1476

and It was this collection that had aroused the Violentdisapproval of the reformer and it was his wish now to pro

duce a purified form of these immortal s tories .

The work of Steinhowel is in fact a curious mixture. The

first part of the book presents the mythical biography of

Aesop , which Maximus Planudes is said to have brought toItaly from Cons tantinople about 1327 . The main part of

this collection consis ts of the so-called fables of Romulus , a

Latin paraphrase of Phaedrus , dating from the tenth century ,80 fables in four books . This is the bas is of later collections

of the so-called fables of Aesop and to this Luther refers whenhe speaks in praise of Aesop ’

s fables . As an appendix , Steinhowel added 1 7 stories designated as Extravaganzen ,

mostly

animal fables , a selection of 27 fables of Avian,1 6 parables

from the“ Disciplina Clericalis

”of Petrus Al fonsus , and

finally 6 stories taken from the“ Facetiae”

of Poggio. Such

was the parti-colored volume known to the Germany of Lutheras Aesop . But it was especially against the appendix thatLuther ’

s moral gorge rose. The tales of Alfonsus and above

all of Poggio seemed to him by no means an appropriatemedium for the conveying of moral truths .

Even before Luther was thus occupying some of his spare

moments in the castle at Koburg with the remoulding of

“Bibliothek des literarischen Vereins in S tuttgart. V ol. 1 1 7 . Ed.

by H . Oesterley, 1 873.


4 Cl

thus attained a wider circulation and the general list of hi swritings appeari ng in the first edi tion of his works shows that

this poem was one of the first to be so treated.

8

The question now ari ses as to what probability there wasthat Luther should know thi s version .

“Die Wittembergisch

N achtigall ” had appeared in 1 5 23, six years after Luther ’

s

first public appearance in opposition to the sale of indulgencesand two years after the Diet of Worms . Its success was in

stantaneous and it obtained a far larger audience than the

pulpit could command . Having thus taken his stand defin

itely on the side of the Reformation ,Sachs entered the field

still more aggressively in the following year . In the first of a

series of dialogues he allows a shoemaker who is an adherent

of the Reformation to argue wi th and worst a Catholic canon .

Four of thes e dialogues were printed as pamphlets and at

tracted much attention .

Sachs ’s next attempt to aid the Reformation openly with

his pen was to be his last. Osiander,Protes tant pastor in

Nurnberg,had undertaken the publication of. a series of pic

tures attacking the Papacy and obtained the aid of Sachs tofurn ish verses for the pictures . The print was entitled “

E ine

wunderliche Weissagung von dem Papsttum”and appeared

early in 1 5 27 . It was a j oy to the Lutherans and a torment to

their opponents . Luther ’s opinion we have in his own words

in a letter to Spalatin ,April 29

,1 5 27 .

“Ihr habt freilich

das Buchlein zu Niirnberg ausgangen mit den Figuren wohl

gesehen ,darin des Papsttums j a n icht vergessen ist. Es ist

mit dem Antichrist auf die Hefen kommen und Chris tuswill sein ein Ende machen ,

desz sei Gott gelobt in Ewigkeit .Amen .

” 9 It was not welcomed as eagerly by the Nurnberg

Council which saw in it only occas ion for increas ing the

already bitter attitude of the two parties and on March 6,

1 5 27 issued a decree reprimanding Osiander and forbidding

Sachs to write further for publication . F or a time he wass ilent

,but the Council seems to have meant this more as a

warning than as a permanent injunction . At any rate scarceaGroetze, N eudrucke, F abeln und Schwanke, V ol. 1 , p. 6 (note ) .

9

Quoted in Kawerau, “Hans Sachs und die Reformation,” Schriftendes Vereins fur Reformationsgeschichte

”V ol. 7 , p. 70.

The F able“ F roseh and Maus ”

5 5

ly a year had elapsed before his next poem appeared in print

and shortly after as the second poem to be so printed appearedthe fable Frosch und Maus . As

.

these poems showed no

polemical tendency the Council could plainly see that theirwarn ing had been heeded .

The Lutheran circle in Nurnberg would certainly hail withinteres t renewed literary activi ty on the part of the man who

had suffered for championing the cause of their leader . Withone of them at least Luther was in personal correspondence.

This was Wenzel L ink, an active worker in the Augustinianmonastery which he won to Lutherism . It would not be sur

prising if this friend had kept Luther informed of the for

tunes of his literary champion and also sent him the next pro

ductions of his pen especially as the fable in question has a

moral teaching . It may even have stimulated his purpose to

do something hims elf in this branch of literature.

But without internal evidence the conjecture of influence

of one by the other would fall to the ground and examinationof the two vers ions is necessary. Luther ’

s fables as the man

uscript shows were written with many corrections , filings and

polishings . All the fables are brief,the first form of the

one in question ,number 3

,contain ing the story in ten lines

and the moral in six additional . Sachs extends his to 48 lines

in rhyme. In the main story both have followed the Steinhiiwel model closely

,Sachs deviating more in details

,as he

often did from his source, and as the larger compass of his

fable here demanded. Themoral ,“ Hoist by his own petard ’

Steinhowel expresses in one prosaic sentence devoid of any

proverbs or figures of speech . Both Luther and Sachs use a

wealth of proverbs in their writings and it is not surprising

that they are found here to poin t the moral to this tale. It

is interesting to note,however

,that of the three proverbs

found in Luther ’

s manuscript vers ion two are found in Sachs

and one of these is by no means a common one.

Although both Sachs and Luther were interested in pro

verbs and proverbial phrases their common stock was very

difierent. Luther made a collection of proverbs familiar tohim.

1 0 Of the 489 proverbs here contained only 25 are found1 ° L uthers Sprichwo

'

rtersammlung. Ed . By E . Thiele, Weimar 1 900.

5 6 Clark

in the tables , Schwanke and Shrovetide plays of Sachs,and

when found only the general idea is the same. Practical similarity of words is s carcely found at all. Although Luther ’

s

collection does not exhaust the proverbs and popular ex

press ions found in his writings , he mus t have picked them out

as typ ical and appealing especially to him . In this conn ectionit is worthy of note that the proverbs occurring in the fable“Von der maus i 1nd frosch ”

do not appear in his col

lection as they woul d have been likely to do if they had beensuch as readi ly occurred to his mind.

1 1

A comparison of the texts will bring out the points mentioned above. Unless otherwise stated the quotations fromLuther are from the first manus cript version .

Steinhowel

Von der mus , frosch 11nd

Ain mus ware gern fiber

ain wasser gewesen

tind begeret rant tind

hilfl von einem frosch(not found )

band den fuosz der mus

an synen fuosz

A113 at mitten in das was

ser kam, hmket sich der

frosch tind zoch di musunder s ich and wait s ie

ertrencken

Do dos die eilend mus

enpfand, widerstund sy

Sachs

F abel mit dem F rosch

und der Manez.

Ein Manez bey eynem

Was ser sasz

Gar geren s ie h inuber

was

(not found )

Der was untrewer lists

voll

Der band ein faden umbder Manse

Schwantz

der Frosch zu stund

S ieh nieder ducket bisz

zu grand

Und zog die Manez fastundter s ich,

D ie Maus z die schroy

F rosch wilt da michErtrencken ?

Da kam ein Storch ge

flogen hoch

Luther12V on der maus und

frosch13 Vom frosch und der

maus

E ine maus were gem

uber ein wasser gawaziDa bat sie einen froschamb trewen rat

Der frosch war hemi sch13 Der frosch war ein

S chalck

B inde deinen fus z an

meinen

Da s ie aber auf s wasserkamen , tauchet der froschhinuntern ilud wolt di e

maus ertrencken .

Inn dem aber die maus

s ich weret und arbeit,

‘ 1 E . Schroder in Anzeiger fur deutsches Altertum 1 901 , V ol. 27,

p. 101 conj ectures that L uther was trying to present a rival collectionof proverbs to Agricola’

s , as explanation of the absence of many com

mon ones .

1’ Manuscript.

1 ’ Printed edition.

The F able“F rosch und Mans

”5 7

dem frosch nach 1eren Und sach die Mausz im fieuget ein Weyh daher

krefl‘ten : in dem kompt Wasser schweben . und erhasschet die maus ,

ein wy geflogen tind n impt zeucht den frosch auch Er schosz herab , ar grit!

diemit synen klawen 11 nd sie eben mit eraus ti nd frisset s ie

den hangenden frosch mit Und fii rt s ie mit im in alle beide

ihr 11nd asz sie baide sein nest

Mit sampt den F rosch denar n icht west

The parallel passages above show plainly that Steinhowelwas the original source for the two later writers . In Luther ’

s

only departure from Steinhiiwel a precedent is found in Sachs .

The pas sages that follow are the moral teachings of the fable

and show striking similarities between Luther and Sachs intheir divergence from Steinhowel .

Steinhowel Sachs LutherAlso beschicht auch denen , So trafi die untrew iren Doch schlegt untrew all

die ander lti t verun tr iiw Herrn zeit yhren herren

eu wollent 11nd versprech (N ot found in Steinhtiwel )ent hilfi und begeren ze

schedigen , das in oift gel

yche bii tt wiirt

u n d mus der falcchefrosch yun seiner untrew

mit der maus verderben

(NOt found ) Warumb sechst du nit S ihe fur dich

basz fiir dich trew ist misslich

Warhafite trew ist gar

miszlich

The las t sentence quoted above is the most striking of the

similarities here shown as it is a proverb rarely met with inGerman literature. It is first found in slightly different wording in Brant

’s

“Narrenschiff”

Traw yedem wol, lug doch fur dich ,dann worlich , truw ist yetz miszlich .

1 4

Sachs uses it in the schwank in question but employs a

different verb in the first member . Once more Sachs us es

1 ‘ Ed. by Zarncke, Leipzig 1 85 4. 69, 22.

Ich will dir zalen

D ein untrew und dein

falsche dii ck

Uberflii ss ig aufi deinen

ruck

U nd must mir gelten mit

der hewt

Als du die Mausz hast

veruntrewt

(Not found in Steinhtiwel )

5 8 Clar k

it in a Schwank written on December 1 1 , illustrating

here his tendency to make use of a favorite phras e more than

once. Luther uses the same words as Sachs in a more con

densed form . We also come across it again in Luther ’

s

wri tings in the exposition of the tenth commandment from

the 20th chapter of Exodus .

“ Denn die L iebe helt das best

vom nehesten ,Aber gleichwol sihe dich fur

,Trew is

mislich .

” 1“ This commentary was written in 1 5 29 the year

after the appearance of Sachs ’

s fable and the year before

Luther prepared his brief collection . Although this phraseis found recorded in such collections of proverbs as Wander,Ké rte and Schottelius it was never widely employed and

could s carcely be called common literary property .

”

In the parallel columns quoted above practically the entirevers ion as found in Steinhowel and Luther has been given .

Only those passages from Sachs ’s longer vers 10n which show

similarities have been quoted. Luther uses one proverb not

found in either Sachs or Steinhtiwel . In every other im

portant variation from Steinhiiwel, the same variation is

found in Sachs . Of significance too is the fact that the mos tstriking simi larity with the latter vers ion , the proverb just

treated, was wri tten on the margin of the manus cript showingthat it was an addition from the very first form.

To sum up : Luther ’s version of the fable appeared two

years after the fable by Sachs . Luther could eas ily have become acquainted with this in its separately pri nted form and

it was very natural that friends in N iirnberg should send

him Copies of poems produced by a man who had shortly

before done such signal service for the Reformation and was

still suffering under the bann of the authori ties for this

activity . Internal examination shows that deviation from1 5 Goetze, F abeln und S chwanke, V ol. I, No . 1 86, 11. 1 09-1 10.

L uthers Schriften , V ol. 4. Jena 1 5 60. 2md Ed . p.

The fact that this proverb is found in Agricola together withthe other proverbs used in this fable by L uther admits the possibilityof his having drawn from the

“Sprichwiirtersammlung.

”This is offset

however by his well-known antipathy to Agricola and also by the factthat o f the 26 proverbs used by him in his other fables only 2 are

found in Agricola .

The F able“ F rosch und Mans

”5 9

the original source, Steinhowel, is largely in line with the

vers ion by Sachs . It is of course necessary to be cautious inany search for direct sources and in this case we mus t allowthe possibility that the same express ions occurred to the twowri ters to illus trate the same moral truth . If so

,it is in itself

a most interesting case of literary and mental parallelism .

It is certainly no more unreas onable to as sume the pos sibilitythat as ide from the Steinhiiwel vers ion ,

Luther also knew

Sachs ’s fable “ Frosch und Maus

”in its separately printed

form, the influence of Sachs appearing on the popular didaotic side.

EUGENE F . CLARK .

Dartmouth College.

60 L illehei

LANDSMAAL AND THE LANGUAGE MOVEMENT IN

NORWAY*

The Viking Age and the following two centuries developed

in Norway and Iceland a rich and beautiful language, a highly idiomatic native speech , free from Greek and Latin con

tamination in the matter of syntax . This language had its

primary home in southwes tern N orway. It is on the living

di alects of the same promi sing linguistic regions that themodern N orwegian L andsmaal, the new speech of Norway

,is

built .The old classical language of Norway and Iceland became,

as we all know, the bearer of a rich,varied, and strikingly

original literature. I shal l merely mention the two Eddas ,the Icelandic sagas

,Heimshringla and the Konungs Skuggsya.

N orway had her period of s trength and greatness followed

by one of almos t unparalleled decline and calami ties . Civilwars followed close upon one another. In place of the raidsand expeditions into foreign lands for purposes of conquest

or peaceful settlement,the descendants of the vikings fell to

killing one another with an earnestness worthy of a better

cause. From 1 130 to 1 240 Norwegian histo ry is but a recordof warring factions and intrigues of claimants to the throne.

This led ultimately to a decided weakening of N orway ’s

most important class of citizens, the peasan t nobles—I mean

the proud, independent , headstrong N orwegian freeholders .

The severe monarchy built up by King Sverre and his suc

cessors also tended in the same direction . In the mids t of

it all came the Black Death . This scourge appeared in Bergenin the year 1347 and spread rapidly through the adj acent

coun try,depopulating whole districts . Denmark and Sweden

also were affected , but these coun tries were able to recuperate

in a comparatively short time. It is humiliating for us to

review this period of our country ’s history . Norway, to use

a figure, lay as a tempest-tossed vessel , s torm-battered , rigging

down,rudder lost

,seams leaking—a veri table wreck at the

mercy of wind and wave.

F or a bibliography on the linguistic situation in N orway see Publications of the Society for the Advancement o f Scandinavian Study I,N r. 4, where also a third type of Landsmaal is analyzed .


62 L illehei

When Danish preachers at the time of the Reformation came

to convert the Norwegians to the Lutheran faith , there wasno longer a ful ly unified Norwegian speech whi ch could beus ed in a Bible translation . Had there been any such language easily available, the Bible would no doubt have been

trans lated into it. Iceland , on the other hand,which was

likewise converted from Catholicism by Danes , was givenan Icelandic translation . There was no longer a uniformNorwegian language to stem the Danish tide.

Dan ish became the official language of Norway in the year

1 45 0. The last B ishop to use N orwegian was Gaute Ivarsson ,

Who died in 1 5 10. His successor was the Dane, Erik Valkendorf

,and then the language of the church became fully

Dan ish . The last persons to give up Norwegian , excepting ,of course

, the peasants , were the lawmen ,for the laws were

written in this languag e, and laws are adverse to violent

changes in terminology and tradition .

One may perhaps be tempted to ask the question ,how

,in

the light of this long sojourn of Dan ish in Norway,can there

be any N orwegian language left at all ? The answer is : the

ruling class in church and state formed, as it were, a cliquea nation within a nation . Many of these officials were Danes

or of other foreign origin . The peasants were looked upon as

barbarians ; the leading clas ses would have nothing to do withthem . No intimate relation ex isted or could exist between the

peasantry on the one hand and the professional classes and

dwellers in the cities on the other. Of the peas antry only the

men had direct dealings with Danish-speaking merchant ,pri est and judge. This left the women in the coun try di strictsalmost entirely outside the pale of Dani sh influence. And the

women of course reared the children and taught them the lan

guage as they knew it, that is , taught them Norwegian in theform of the local country dialect . The Norwegian commonschools of later days naturally have tended to corrupt Norwegian by the us e of Danish B ible History, Hymnal , and

A . B . C.,but the efiect has not been so harmful as it might

have been had the schools been well organi zed from the first.

What country s chools there were used, for the greater part until quite recently, local teachers , men of the people, who spoke

Landsmaal and the Language Movement in N orway 63

the local dialect in the school room . It is fortunate therefore,from the point of View of the language, that popular educationwas so well neglected during the years of the union with Den

mark,for had a s trong educational system been in operation in

city and country,mountain and glen , the Norwegian speech

would have been wiped out everywhere even as it has beenalmost totally in the larger cities . Our national linguistic

regeneration would then have become an impossibility.

However, Danish proved to be unable to destroy the Nor

wegian peasant dialects , but at the same time no Norwegiandialect had the opportunity, under the conditions of the

time,to rise to the rank of a standard language. These dia

lects are yet today s trong and fully living, though to some

extent influenced by Dan ish . Some work in recording thenative speech of Norway was done qui te early, but only in

a sporadic and unsystematic way . The first popular ballads

were reduced to writing about 1 640. Some N orwegian dia

lects produced somewhat of a literature in ballads and the

like. Peter Dass , born in 1 647 , incorporated some things fromNordland dialects in his poems , but there was no consciouseffort on the part of anyone to create a distinct N orwegianlanguage. People had not yet come to a clear realization of

the relation between the N orwegian peasant dialects and the

language used by the Danish administration and by the cul

tured class es in Norway in general .

In 1 772 was formed in Copenhagen ,Det norske Selskab, a

society of Norwegian students and literary men . As in the

early days of the Viking Age, Norwegians from the differentparts of Norway had met in foreign lands and fought sideby s ide against a common foe, and in this co-operation createdand strengthened the national feeling

, so now N orwegians ,meeting in the Danish capital , began to feel as brothers and

as s trangers in a strange land . N orway was waking out of

its stupor. These young men began to feel that they wereNorwegians and not Danes . Even before the separation fromDenmark came a demand for a Norwegian university. As

we know,the Danish king saw himself forced to yield , and

in 1 81 1 the Univers ity was granted . Two years later the

modes t little provincial un ivers ity began its scholastic career .

64 Li llehei

Then came 1 814, the his toric year in the annals of ModernN orway. Denmark was forced to give Norway over to

Sweden in the early part of that year. The Swedes unintentionally did us a great service when they forced us out of

the union with Denmark . But to be given over to Sweden ,

that is , to N orway ’s tradi tional enemy

,was too much even

for long-sufiering Norway. The war broke out, the outcome

of which was that Norway secured for herself one of the

world ’s frees t constitutions , which constitution the king of

Sweden accepted in the main on becoming joint king of

Norway and Sweden . Long disputes followed, las ting almost

a century . Sweden endeavored to make the un ion closer,but Norway Opposed such moves . In all this the N or

wegian national feeling was tested and trained as never

before. Then came 1 905,our crowning year politically. Nor

way has reached her goal : a free coun try with a descendant

of Harold the F airhaired on the throne !

But the awakening national feeling in Norway manifesteditself in more ways than in the purely political . In some

quarters appeared a more or less clearly defin ed desire forindependence in other matters . It is the language, however ,which chiefly concerns us here. The constitution of 1 814

speaks very naively of. Dan ish as Norwegian and demands

among other things that the joint king of Norway and Swedenshall use Norwegian in his acts and documents pertain ing toNorway. I have read some of these documents by the lateOscar II. They are written in Danish words with heavy German sentence structure. And yet it is call ed Norwegian !The most important among the early language reformers

in Norway was the poet , Wergeland. He had however no

definite program . He was groping in the dark . He lacked

the scientific and linguistic prerequisites for any far-reaching,well-planned reform . He voiced our awakening longing forcul tural independence and maturity, and he prophes ied thatbefore the end of the century we should have a national language. His prophesy has not come true as yet, even thoughwe passed the miles tone of the century years ago. But there

has been progress . In an

'

article written in 1 835 , Wergeland

advocated the us e of certain native words in place of.the


corresponding Dan ish . He wrote some dialect poems himself .Much of what he did was good, much in rather bad taste.

His work after all was only patchwork , somewhat like the

work of K. Knudsen later in the interests of the Riksmaal .

Wergeland was of course not allowed to go on in peacein his work of N orwegianizing Danish as much as poss ible.

He was bitterly opposed by the linguistic s tandpatters and

self—appointed,self-anointed judges of taste. Welhaven was

their chief spokesman . Johan Sverdrup said of him that ifWelhaven could have had his way , the Norwegian lyre would

not have had a single native string . Welhaven , with manymore of his kind

,drew his inspiration chiefly from literary

Copenhagen ,and he often felt his life in N orway a Babylonian

captivity . He found the N orwegian peas ants rough and un

tutored. So they undoubtedly were in many cases , but surely

only by the fault of Welhaven , and others before him,who

had neglected their traditions and their native language, to

feed fat at the festal boards of the Danish capital .

The next big moment in the linguistic and cultural re

generation of N orway came with J6rgen Moe and Asbj iirnsen .

Perhaps I should rather use the word “emancipation ” than

regeneration ,

”for what was needed was to free the Nor

wegian spirit from the foreign yoke in order to enable Norway

to reveal to the world its own treasures and resources . Moe and

Asbj tirnsen gave us our own Norwegian fairy tales . I do notmean fairy tales that necessarily ori ginated in N orway . No

,

stories that bore the stamp of the Norwegian temperament,of

our way of interpreting life and the world, our way of sayingapt things in terse

,aphori stic form . These fairy tales are de

lightfully Norwegian in spirit . We find the quick,straightfor

ward presentation ; short , snappy sentences ; sly ,unobtrusive

humor apt sayings , and the hard-headed sense of reality thatbelong to the best peasants . The only fault that some of us find

with these stories by Asbj iirnsen and Moe is that the languageis too Dan ish . It seems very N orweg1an to some who live in

the cities and for whom Danish has become rather largely

the mother tongue. But to those who speak a real N orwegiandialect, these stories are in the matter of language only too

often quite un-Norwegian . We,then , who learned Norwegian

66 L illehei

in our childhood homes , are glad to see that so many good

Norwegian words have been adopted in the language of theses tories ; but we are grieved to see them for the greater part

thus translated into Dan ish and sent out among the Nor

wegians . One thing must be granted, the spirit of the lan

guage as well as the mode of presentation is thoroughly Norwegian .

In reality it was a great step forward toward things Norwegian that these men took . But it is not to be supposed thatthey were not criticized for going so far in the use of words

that were not Dan ish ! Harsh criticisms were bestowed uponthem here and there because the language was not pure

enough , that is , not Danish enough . To illus trate how zealoussome Norwegians were to keep their Dani sh language pure,I will mention Lyder Sagen, (1 777 This teacher inBergen struck out ruthlessly whatever Norwegian idioms and

words appeared in the written work of his pupils . Or thereis the case of Lands tad

,the celebrated maker of our hymnal

,

Landstads Salmebog . When Lands tad had adapted some

Danish hymn s , trans lated a number of German ones , and

written some very beautiful hymns himself, a commi ss ionwas appointed to examine the book . Lands tad had us ed

words like tagde, and“I denne siide Juletid tam) man sig

ret forntiie. He was compelled to strike out tarv, “ought , has

reason to,”and write tor, “

to dare.

”Thi s change des troyed

the meaning of course. Landstad intended , “In this blessed

Chris tmas time one has abundant reason to rejoice, ” or“one

ought to rejoice.

”In the changed vers ion the sentence means

“In this blessed Christmas time one dares rejoice”

! But

twrv was too N orwegian for the commi ssion . Lands tad an

swered not without some heat : “We ought to be ashamed tobe more hard to suit than is the Lord himself who has giveneach people its language. He is no more offended by a Nor

wegian word in His holy house than by a coat of honesthomespun . It is poss ible to mock at all things , but thi s oughtnot to be so. One ought to be careful not to make sport of

a people that has sus tained the loss of a grand mother tongue

with its wonderful literature, a language that is fully on a

par with any other language whats oever both in beauty and

Landsmaa l and the Language Movement N orway 67

richness and power of development , he reviles the peo

ple who makes light of the mother tongue. (See, Lars Eske

land—N orsk Salmesong, Oslo 1 904, p . 10 ff ) This is the

way Landstad felt about N orwegian ,he who had been edu

cated in Danish in common school and univers ity . The com

miss ion made him change makk, ‘worm,

’

to arm, which to a

Norwegian means‘serpent . ’ He protested, but the com

mission held that theNorwegian word makk was too simple,

too vulgar, too Norwegian ,

to be given a place in the churchlanguage of N orway. The hymnal was finally adopted after

eight years of ton ing down and elimination of . N orwegian

words and idioms . The same year, 1 869 , in which the timidpurists perm itted Landstad ’

s hymnal to pass , appeared by

a strange coincidence Nokre Salmar by Blix— in Landsmaal .’

Old Landstad was r1ght glad to see them .

And now let us turn to one of Norway ’s greatest men ,

poet,

philologist,language reformer, patriot , —I mean Ivar Aasen .

Ivar was born in 1 813,the son of a peasant . The farm ,

Aasen,from which the surname is derived, lies in S iindmiire

in Western Norway in the heart of the best Norwegian language region . Aasen had little formal s chooling . He is a

splendid example of what unswerving purpose,genius

,and

self-education can do. Language interested Aasen profoundly . Grammar was simply poetry to him. First he studied

foreign languages somewhat f then he tried to get some fun

damental knowledge of Scandinavian from existing Danishgrammars . But as these grammars did not go far , he found

it necessary to set to work for himself. He s tudied old

Norse as a matter of course and also old Swedish . He in

vestigated his own S iindmore dialect and published a s tudy of

it in 1 85 1 under the title Sondmorsk Grammatik. He camein due time to Bergen in order to show his work to the

bishop . The bishop introduced him to SOphus Bugge, who

happened to be in the city at that time. It did not take

Bugge long to realize that he was face to face with a philological genius . Bugge helped Aasen to get financial aid to

travel throughout N orway for the purpose of collecting dialect material . In 1 848

,

appeared Det norske F olkesprogs

68 Mllehei

Grammatik . In 1 85 0 Aasen published his 0rdbog over det

norske F olkesprog .

In doing all this work Aasen made a great discovery,or

at least confirmed what may have been a mere surmise in his

mind . It was generally held that Danish had completely

driven out the Norwegian language, that the apparently rude

and uncouth country dialects were mere corruptions of the

noble speech of Denmark and of the speech of the cultured

classes in Norway . Aasen soon found abundant proof to the

contrary,proof that he was not dealing with corrupt Danish

patois but with the healthy, Vigorous direct descendants of

the old language of Norway . He found that a great many of

the Norwegians had never spoken Danish,never ! These

dialects were far from being as impoverished as was thoughtby the “ cultured”

of the cities . They were far from dissolution

,these dialects , but perfectly healthy and sound . And

when is a dialect or language sound and healthy ? Ishould say ,

when it is able to form new words out of its own

elements to meet whatever needs may arise,or is able to assim

ilate and make its own ,whatever it may find necessary to

borrow . These N orwegian dialects treat Danish as a di s

tinctly foreign language. A Danish word has mental quota

tion marks around it when used in a N orwegian sentence.

This is the way my dialect of Tysnces treats Danish . Thesedialects retain to a remarkable degree the choice idioms and

words of our ancient classical language. The statemen t is

made by Aas en that in one part or another of Norway is found

well-nigh all the words of the old N orse vocabulary . We haveoften found dialect words that have given us precious hints andaids in the interpretation of difficult passages of the Elder

Edda. These dialects have, some of them,been more nobly

conservative in the matter of phonology than has Icelandi c ,though they fall far below in the matter of the conservation of

inflectional forms .

Here were rich dialects agreeing with one another in the

main both as regards grammar and vocabulary ,but lacking

a central , unifying norm ,a standard language to which they

could furn ish material and which in turn could keep them

from runn ing riot in the matter of individual development


70 L illehei

is a current of s trong feeling . Aasen realizes keenly Norway ’

s greatest shame, the use of the Danish language ! (See,

Aasen ,Skrifter 7? Samling, 3 vol . Chr.

Aas en soon foun d enthusias tic helpers . The Norwegian na

tional feeling was awakening and to the extent that it wasawake it approved Aasen ’

s work . It has often been chargedby the Opponents of Aasen

’s language reform that the parti

sans of Landsmaal are merely a few faddi sts . and that theirwork is not supported by the Norwegian national feeling. If

that charge had been true,how can one suppose that this

language, s tarting as it did with apparently everything againstit except its own just cause

,could in a few short years have

fought itself to a place of legal equality with Dano-Norwegian ,

which latter language has been in official use in N orway since145 0? There are many s taunch defenders of L andsmaalwho inspeech and wr iting use Danish because that was the languagetaught them in the school . There are members in the Stor

thing who,in debates on the language question ,

have deploredthe fact that Dano-Norwegian is the only language they mas ter,but who say most emphatically that their children shall be given the opportun ity to learn N orwegian . C. Bruun ,

for a num

ber of years co-editor of F or Kirke 0g Kultur has fought manya splendid battle for Landsmaal, but he always wrote in

Danish . Once someone sneeringly remarked, “You serve

your cause, you do ; write fervid articles in favor of Landsmaal but write in Danish ! ” “

But,

”said Bruun ,

“ watchthe students that come from the school in which I taught .You will find that they wi ll both advocate and use Lands

mau l. ”

Now,Dan ish was by many, even in the early fifties of the

las t century, felt to be our most disgraceful badge of servitude. There were men who hated Danish with a large, sin

cere and splendid hatred . But what could they do before thegreat work of Aasen had been accomplished ? On the one

s ide was Danish firmly entrenched in church , in state, in

school,and among the educated classes in general ; on the

other side were a great many country dialects very much alivebut rather undisciplined . The malcontents had grumbled

in Danish . Aas en ,however, now offered a means of salvation .

Landsmaal and the Language Movement in N orwa/y 71

Here was a language—made by one man if you like 1 -but

yet a language which was certainly not Dan ish,and which

was much nearer to mos t of the Norwegian dialects than wasthe official Danish . A language rich in musical efiect, wasthis Landsmaal. Danish has leveled under e well-nigh all

the vowels of its older inflectional endings . Danish is con

sequently the least musically capable of the Scandinavianlanguages . With it compare the beauty of Swedish . Read,for ins tance, Ax el by Tegner and glory in the melody there

of,then turn to any Danish poet and note the difference, and

the endless succession of e’s ; e. g . : 0g glemme stb

’

vets us le

F ragt herneden . Colorless , dull , and gray appears this language in comparison with Swedi sh , with the Norwegian dia

lects , or with Landsmaal. Landsmaal has nearly the richn es sand beauty of Swedish as far as the endings of the words are

concerned, and it surpass es Swedish in having kept the diphthongal series an, oy, ci in the root syllables .

Among the early writers in L andsmaal may be mentioned ,

in addition to Aasen ,Vinje

,F j iirtoft, and Janson . Aasen

’s

work as a language student and as a collector of dialectmaterial had at first been received with enthusiasm and favor

in all circles . But as soon as the majority of the cultured became aware of Aasen

’s enlarging plan and purpose, and

noticed that he was beginn ing to have a following, the oppo

sitiou arose. At first these'

apostles of good tas te had been

charmed by Aasen ’s simple coun try songs written in what

appeared to them some peasant dialect, but when Aasen beganto plan and advocate a more far-reaching and serious use of

the L cmdsmaal, these men laughed condescendingly at whatthey considered Aasen ’

s linguistic experiments , or scornfully

dismissed the whole matter. Think,these men said, set a

man-made paper-language, a rude peasant speech , an uncouthWest Norwegian jargon ,

by the side of, or in the place of,

Danish !But Landsmaal was not a fad, hence it could not be howleddown or laughed into s ilence. It was a profound and seriousexpress ion of the N orwegian will to live. Even its opponentstoday agree with it in its aim : a truly national language for '

I Cp. L uther’s work in German.

72 Ltllehet

Norway. The difference of opinion comes in the choice of

means to the desired end .

Landsmaal, however, gathered momentum. The Norwegiansatiris t and poet

,Vinje, joined the movement after much

deliberation and many a s truggle. One can scarcely realizewhat it means to quit the official language of the land and

take up one that is new and despised among the rich and in

fiuential . But Vin je took the step because he loved Norwayand because he foun d in Landsmaal more of his mother ’

s

language and that of his own heart. As we know,he was a

peasan t-born man . Vinje began to publish in 1 85 8 the famousDo

’

len (Val ley-dweller, the man from the glen ) . This gavethe Landsmaal men their organ . In this paper, Vinje used

Landsmaal of course, however, not always according to

Aas en’s norm , but at times nearer his own Midland di alect

of Telemarken ,and at times nearer that of Eas tern Norway .

He wanted to be free to experiment in order to find the form

that could un ite most of Norway the form that could embody

most of the living dialects . He used, e. g . : boki, the book

later boha, the Eas t Norwegian form . But however muchhe fluctuated, and part of this fluctuation was a psychological

necessity with him regardless of language—he always moved

within true Norwegian limits .

Finally we come to Arne Garborg, born 1 85 1, who joined

the Landsmaal movement at the age of twenty-seven . He

was already becoming known as a writer of Danish-Nor

wegian . But while Ibsen sneered at the poor, struggling

Landsmaal and Bjern son blus tered in provincial Dan ish , Garborg sat down and taught himself Landsmaal, that is , cas this lot with the despised patri ots who were endeavoring to

make the Norwegians wake up to the necessity of greater cul

tural independence. He was a most valuable addition to the

ranks . His Danish and his Landsmaal are both admirable.

(See, Garborg—Den ny-norske Sprog 0g Nationalitets Be

vdgelse. Chr. Garborg is from Jaederen inWes tern Nor

way . He has from childhood had a thorough knowledge of

Norwegian,as he is a peasant ’

s son .

2 Garborg is a keen2 And what a guiding norm such a dialect really is, is brought home

to us mos t strikingly when we who know a dialect examine the .well


critic . He has the gift of making his opponen ts appear de

lightfully ridiculous . One deft little turn of phrase becomesa telling blow. He is a poet of the purest type, and his lyricsare among our best . (See, Garborg—Haugtussa. ) He has

given us our greatest analysis of the morbid s tates of the re

ligious consciousness , (See, Garborg And his every

thought is for Norway : Improve its agriculture, reduce emi

gration ,establish a national language, produce a saner reli

gious attitude, revive the national feeling . (See, GarborgKnudahetbrev. ) He represents the deepest and sanest and

truest in our nation . He is the veritable incarnation of the

spirit of the N ew Norway .

3 And so Garborg joined the language movement with telling effect .In the eighties there was started in the Storthing an agi tation for granting Landsmaal some rights in Norway . And

now the uproar began as one can well imagine ! It was asked :are you going to introduce this language in the s chools ? It

is hard enough to teach the children one language, withoutgetting one more to contend with . And if you make thisjargon the principal language of any school, are you not doinginfinite harm to the children ? Are you not shutting them out

from culture and future usefulness in any career among the

educated classes of Norway ? And how about the literature ?How about Holberg

,Wessel

,Ibsen

,Bj iirnson ? You are

mad ! Well,perhaps we are mad, it was answered ; perhaps ,

indeed , we are. But one thing is certain : We want a lan

guage of our own , or, at leas t , we want the Danish in N orwayto become more Norwegian . Now,

Danish in Norway is not going to become more N orwegian by some occult process . No

,it

must be brought into contact with Norwegian so that the N or

wegian vocabulary and the Sprachgef'ithl of the best linguisticdistricts may be brought to bear on it. Peasants are largely

meaning attempts of city-bred people to write L andsmaal. We catchthem sinning against the spirit of the N orwegian language in everyline . They are used to the 3—possessive of Danish and make the most

unfortunate blunders in the use of our dialectal phrasal posses sives .

’ I shall elsewhere at a later time discuss more in detail the siguificance of Garborg

’s life-work .

74 Li llehei

ashamed of their language now. They affect a kind of Danishin the presence of city people and the cul tured. We want tosecure for the Norwegian dialects a better standing and recognition so that they may as sert themselves more in the presenceof the official language. And, moreover , we have had enoughof our hyphenated existence : Politically we were Swedenhyphen Norway (Sweden-Norway ) , lingui stically we are Den

mark hyphen Norway ! But there ’s no need for concern ;

Norway herself shall decide. Put Landm aal to the test .

Give it a chance If it is not what is needed, it will die of

itself . But the cultured” continued to mock, the learnedprofessors wrote long articles proving to their own satisfactionthat no such language could long exist . A “ paper-language

”!

Away with it ! Look at your Landsmaal : Aasen uses one

form , Fjertoft another, and Vinje still another if not several .Bah !

It is true that there is a lack of strict uniformity in Landsmaal, but the same lack is found

,though in a lesser degree,

in Dano-Norwegian . Such a lack of uniformity , however,was part of the program of some of the language reformers ,if not of all of them . Aasen

’s work was accepted as tentative.

He located the gold mine and made the main shaft . Othersmust work too. Aasen

’s norm was in part accepted as some

thing not absolutely definitive, but rather as a guiding principle which might indi cate in a general way the direction inwhich the creation of a truly national speech for Norway

ought to go . These reformers were themselves , and wanted

others to be, profoundly influenced by their own particulardi alects . In the moulding of the Landsmaal they wished tobring to it the wealth of the various dialects . This large

treatment of the whole language question would, it was hoped ,furnish an abundance of material from which usage couldselect the best as well as eliminate actual inconsistencies .

It must be admitted that Landsmaal was for a while ratherchaotic . That was while Aasen

’s name did not have the

commanding place it occupies now. Aasen’s contemporaries

found it harder to follow him than many of the present Landsmaal wri ters do . I suppose some jealousy entered in . If

Ivar Aas en has a right to create a language for Norway,

Landsmaal and the Language Movement in N orway 7 5

why can ’t I, A . O. Vinje, do as much ? Why,indeed ! But

Aasen was a genius in addition to having a large and sound

linguistic knowledge. He was not so likely to be lost in con

tradi ctions of detail as were the other men who attempted

to use in writing a language difierent from Danish . Thereis noticeable a decided return to Aasen

’s form in late years ,

and of course his norm is used in the schools . Aasen is the

venerated name and un ifying influence which is felt more and

more. He takes to some extent the place of. a tradition .

The fight has , however, not been a sheer waste of time and

energy as so many Norwegian-Americans,most of whom have

not given the matter serious thought or study,are inclined

to think . It has led to a clearer idea of what is really Norwegian . When I wen t to school at home

,I did not realize

that teacher and preacher were teaching me a foreign languageas if it were my mother tongue. I thought they spoke the

right and proper language and that my dialect was somethingto be ashamed of . It was refined and educated to say hj em,

but vulgar to say heim ! A great thing has been gained byall the bitterness and struggle of the language fight. All

Norwegians at the present time want the language to becomemore Norwegian . The Danish of Denmark has ceased to be theaccepted s tandard for N orway . If the Danes change theirspelling, we no longer feel

‘in duty bound to go and do like

wise. The center of Danish-Norwegian has become the Norwegian capital . We who prefer the Landsmaal look upon the

cultured speech of our Norwegian capital as provincial Dan ish ,that is , Danish with enough Norwegian in it to spoil it asDanish , and make it a parody on real Norwegian . The R ihs

meal is no longer good Danish,far from it ; I and thou

sands with me are compelled by our Norwegian language feeling to reject this language as an uncouth hybrid , con tain ingDanish elements and Christiani aisms which grammatically are

to us perfect monstrosities . I shall merely mention that mostastounding form , the neuter plural indefin ite : huser !

But the Dan ish of Denmark has less influence on Dan ishN orwegian than formerly . Years back it used to be so thatwhen there was a choice between a known Danish word and an

equally well known N orwegian word

, the Danish word was

76 Mllehei

given preference as a matter of course. The opposite is now

true. The Riksmaal writers even go so far as to adopt an

occas ional word from their sworn enemy, the Landsmaal. Thus

I come across words like omsatm’

ng for overs'

attelse and

W h at for“ komite”

. But R iksmaal, so Danish in formativespirit and moulding power, has given to these words a Dan ishform . The more Norwegian and real Landsmaal forms are :

umsetj ing and nemnd . Omsc’

itning and ndvnd look like any

other Danish words . There was a time— and not so very long

ago either—when not a few of the most influential men of

N orway cons idered it nothing short of crime to tamper withthe Dan ish language, which they, of course, called Nor

wegian— in N orway. These men were purists to an exten t un

known even in Denmark itself . They had the provincial ’sslavish respect for the language of the mother country. An

example : When certain spelling reforms were being discussed

in Norway,it was seriously considered to invite the Danes to

make the same changes so as to keep the language alike in both

realms . These men who wanted to keep Danish pure and un

defiled were called by both R iksmaal and Landsmaal reformers ,the Donomah tacs . There was another group

,and these were

actual , pos itive language reformers , who endeavored to re

form without breaking with Danish . Bj tirnson ,the great

agitator,belonged to this school . The professorial light was

furnished by K. Knudsen . This man devoted his whole life to

the cause of three voiceless consonants . Knudsen advocated

the introduction of the cc-called hard consonants in place of

the corresponding Dan ish soft series b-d-

g . This change,by the way ,

took place by law in‘

1 907,or rather, the law

gave its formal san ction to what was already a fact in the

pronunciation of Danish-N orwegian .

We had, then ,in Norway until quite recently

,three groups

or divisions in the languag e struggle : The ultra-conserva

tiy es , who desired to let well enough alone ; the reformers

within the“ church ”

,and lastly the

“excommuni cated”

Landsmaal men . Aasen and his school cons idered Knudsen ’s

work utterly futile. K. Knuds en said : “Let us reform,

but

reform within the Dan ish , and then gradually work out a

language which shall satisfy the patriotic feeling of all Nor


8 Mllehei

chaos ; the presence of it, compulsory stagnation . Death alonecould make Landsmaal whole.

Again ,some objected that th is new language was essentially

a rural speech , poor in everything but the words for the most

common and vulgar needs of life. But the answer to this waslong ago furnished by Aasen and others . TheWest Norwegian

dialects are rich , surprisingly rich . The Wes t Norwegianfarmer is an all-around man if ever there was one. He has

bits of forest , hence he has all the terms that go with the workof the woodsman . He is a fisherman and sea-farer and con

sequently he has the rich vocabularies of these occupations .

He is also a tiller of the soil—what little soil there is among

the splendid rocks that N ature has so lavishly bestowed upon

our land . To be a farmer in Western Norway,where division

of labor is just beginning to make its appearance, means to

be a shoemaker, painter, blacksmi th , boatbuilder , cabinetmaker, tanner, cooper and what not. Of course the man

knows the words involved . All these Norwegian farm-housesare veri table factories where an aston ishing variety of things

are made. The women spin and knit and weave, dye the

cloth,make the clothes , embroider . And one can imagine

how far the vocabulary of a plain city person would reachwhen put into these surroundings ! N o, the linguistic povertylies very often on the other s ide.

In these country dialects are found,moreover, a wealth

of excellent expressions of ethical and moral significance.

I realized this , as never before, this las t year when I began toexamine systematically the vocabulary of my own di alect . I

found a great many truly excellent terms of other thanmere bread and butter significance. A certain peasant womanrecognized as many as thirteen thousand of the dialect wordsin Vidsteen

’s 0rdbog over Bygdemaalene i Sb

’

ndhordla/nd.

In addi tion she knew of course the Danish of chur ch and

school . The Landsmaal, then ,drawing upon these dialects

for its form and substance, being endowed with their strengthand Vitality and wonderful power of word-creation ,

has the

poss ibilities of becoming one of the richest of modern culturallanguages . Many of these possibilities have now been turned

into actualities . Landsmaal in the hands of Arne Garborg ,


Professor Haegstad, Professor Gjelsvik, Hans Seland, LarsEskeland , Vetle Vis lie

,Jens Tvedt , Pas tor Hognestad, is

second to no other Scandinavian language in any sense whatever. The opponents of Landsmaal are beginning to realizeits ability to cope with the best of languages . As a conse

quence we hear less about the unfitness of Landsmaal to be

a bearer of modern cul tural ideas . That supposed inabilityused to be the great argument of the “ cultured ”

,R iksmaal

was spoken of by its defenders as kultursproget, as thoughpeople who do not know Dan ish are shut out from culture.

Much work has been done in Landsmaal by men who havemade the Vindi cation of Norwegian speech the chief aim and

object of their lives . Professor Marius Haegstad, followingclose in the footsteps of Aasen

,has evolved an excellent

Norwegian grammatical terminology. Pastor Hognestad has

worked out the language of the church . Prof. N . Gjelsvikhas brought forth a powerful , clear legal vocabulary . Many

scientists have disciplined and enriched our language in lec

ture room and laboratory . Landsmaal, in the hands of one

who has studied it long enough to be competent to handle it,is fully on a par with Danish in its ability to express any

thing ranging from your first baby ’s wee cry to abstruse co

gitations on Oriental Philosophy . And it is infinitely superiorto Danish in poetic beauty, in richness of tone-color, in varietyof musical effect. It fits the Norwegian temperament . It is

terse, direct , lively to a degree that can s carcely be reached bythe flat, monotone Danish . Those who now take up Lands

maal enter into the labors of many. The hardest task is over .

Landsmaal has assumed its character to a large extent it hasits spirit, its moulding power, its class ics . What it needs nowto reach success is a grim determination to make no con

cessions whatsoever to Danish-Norwegian .

Again it is said that the children of the cities cannot understand Landm aal; that it is as difficult for them to understand

this language as it would be to understand Swedish . There

is much truth in this statement . But,say the partisans of

Landsmaal, you of the cities have for the greater part substituted Danish for Norwegian . We admit that Danish isessentially your mother tongue that it is the language of

80 Ltllehei

your mind and hearts . But more ’s the pity ! You cannot

help that you learnt Danish . You were not in sheltered nooksand valleys as we were, but lived in the centers of Danish influence where you were forced to learn Danish in order totransact business . Then it is objected that Landsmaal isessentially normalized Wes t N orwegian . This objection is

only partly true. Eas t Norwegians themselves say that theirdialects are one in spirit with Landsmaal. (See, Tov FlatinF lesbergmaalet. Kongsberg, 1 910. p . 3

,and Sven Moren

Austland 0g Vestland. ) In the lecture cited here which SvenMoren delivered at a national meeting of language reformers

and others at Voss in 1 908, we are told : A ‘West Norwegian

language ! ’ —you can imagine how s trange such a term ap

plied to L andsmaal appears to me who have grown up in the

district farthest east,and who have built my Norwegian

written language on the language spoken in my neighborhood .

As far as I am concerned, the Landsmaal cannot be called a

‘West N orwegian lang uage ’! Landm aal is to me the most

natural way of writing my own country di alect ! ”But after all it must be admitted that Landsmaal has a de

cided West N orwegian appearance. And so it is as ked by unpatriotic East Norwegians : “Why should we learn that lan

guage from the West,which is harder for us to learn than

Danish ?” But, of course, the Dan ish is called R iksmaal, ourNorwegian language, in those regions , so when these peoplerefuse to accept Landm al

,they say : The choice is not be

tween Norwegian and Danish but between yourWest Nor

wegian and our East N orwegian . Arne Garborg gave these

people something to think about years ago. He wrote : It

is imposs ible for a N orwegian to write Danish . He may learn

to write German,or English , or French , and what he writes is

called respectively German , or English , or French . But the

minute a N orwegian attempts to write Danish , no matter howwell he does the work , the result is—Norwegian . N ow

, itwould seem reasonable to suppose that Norwegians , if they be

Norwegians in the true sense, would prefer to learn a West

N orwegian language rather than to continue the use of a lan

guage that was more or less forced upon the land in the days

of national helplessness . Wes tern Norway has infinitely more

Landsmaal and the Language Movement in Norway 81

to contribute toward a national speech than the Eastern low

lands where Swedish and Danish influence has been muchmore potent than in the distant regions of the west coas t.The charge that Landsmaal woul d shut out culture, Aasen

answered long ago :“I shall likewise say that I have never

had in mind to expel the ideas along with the words

[Danish and other foreign words ] , as there surely could be

found a way to keep alive the ideas even though the names

were slightly changed .

”(Shrifter 7

'

Samling, p .

Aasen considers those dialects best that are most like theOld Norse and that have the larges t number of native words .

The best system is to select a norm to guide one in the

us e of the dialect material .I shall give here the following quotations from Aasen

’s

Shrfifter 7°

Samling, Vol. III , p . 9 5 to show you his“ labora

tory method of word selection . One must"

necessarily havesuch a model form before him each time there is a question of

determining the right form of a word which is different inthe various dialects . When

,for instance

,we consider the word

which in Dan ish is lys, and in Norwegian dialects lj os, lj t'is , los,j os, j

'

o’

s, we find after closer examination that the right N orwegian form is lj es .

”That is

,Aasen selects the form that is

the neares t to the Old Norse. His dictum is,

“The Old N orse

must be our guide in the essentials .

”( i hoveds agen have det

gamle sprog til

One cannot get a lan guage that will conform to the details

of all the dialects .

“ A few words would have a somewhatdifferent shape in a normalized N orwegian form than the

shape they now have in the different; districts . Such a thingis unavoidable. But if the teaching of Norwegian were con

ducted with half the time and energy devoted to teachingDan ish , the people would soon understand Landsmaal better

than Danish .

”And here Aasen speaks from his heart of

hearts : “The old inheritence is yet in existence, the ri ghtful

heirs likewise, and it is within their power to enter into theenjoyment of the inheritence and to repair it ful ly. And no

outs ider has a right to interfere.

”(lac. cit. vol . III

, p . 104)Aasen says that Landsmaal is more rich and melodiousthan Danish , in fact a beautiful language. But one mus t use

82 Mllehet

it with great care at first ; it can easily be ruined in less com

petent hands . He who would reform a language cannot adopt

everybody ’

s ideas . Most people lack a clear outlook,a com

prehensive unders tanding of the language itself and its re

lation to kindred tongues . If these very sane and sens iblewords of Aasen had been taken to heart by all the Landsmaal

writers,we woul d have had less of the unfortunate confusion

and contradictions that we fin d at present .

L et us here turn briefly to the work of K. Knudsen (1 812Knudsen devoted his whole life to making the Danish

used in Norway more Norwegian in sentence structure and V0cabulary . He considered the form of the word

,including the

inflectional endings , as matters of less , even small,importan ce.

His program is set forth clearly in his book,Hvem skal vinne?

Chr . 1 886. According to his View Danish is not a foreign language but the Dan ish version of the old common language of

Scandinavia (fallesmaalet) . Knudsen believes that Danishwill gradually be influenced by Norwegian ; he is himselftrying to make it more native”

. He has little or nothing tosay in favor of the striking and genuine Norwegian element

contained in the dialects . While the forms may be the same

as those in the Danish language, the Norwegian language mayhave a spirit of its own ,

with certain di fferences in spelling.

This ought,thinks he, to be sufficient to give Norway a

national language ! On page 73 we are told that “the lan

guage in Denmark is in reality the sameas that of Norway,only in a di fferent s tag e of development . ” By the same rea

soning one could prove that Span ish is really not different

from French,for French has in many cases pas sed through

the Spanish stage of the words to get to its present form,

even as Dan ish has passed through what is often yet the Nor

wegian forms . Knuds en ’s program for future linguis tic en

deavor (framtidsmaalstrav ) is contained in the following quotation :

“And now we come to the old difierences between

the two N orwegian languages , the questions concerning thefeminine gender, the a

’s and the diphthongs . Any other far

reaching traces of Danish we have not. Concerning these‘ traces ’

,I have above expressed the opinion that they wi ll

not prove themselves so altogether inefiaceable when we only


make our improvement along Danish-Norwegian lines , one byone and incidentally . The feminine gender is little by littlegaining (beka—the book ) eu-oy-et likewise, for thefirst in the

root of the word : Naut, , graut, hant, laus, l’

o’

yse, blb’

yte,

floyte (timber ) , veth, etc. Only let us not go too fas t and

antagonize the inhabitants of the cities .

”(Hvem shatm

’

nne?

p . 1 6811 ) Knudsen rather condemns the ending -het

preferring the more Norwegian ending -shap . He uses suchN orwegian words as navngj etne, gnag,

kapaat, spildrende

(spildrcmde) , en bate,“advantage. I cite the following as a

sample of his Danish-Norwegian : En annen sah var det,

om de hadde bygd paa et enkelt landshaps maal , paa sonmiirsk

ti da hadde de hat et Virkelig talt maal (I

have put the striking forms in italics . ) N ow,after all, this is

good as far as it goes , but it does not go far, enough in the

direction of true Norwegian speech .

The chief ideas and methods of attack of Johan Storm maybe found in the following books and articles : “

Det Norske

Maalstrav,

”N erdish Tidskrift. 1 878 pp. 405 -430 and 5 26

5 5 0. Det nynorshe Landsmaal, Kb . 1 888 . Landsmaalet 30m

Kultursprog, Chr . 1 903.

The prevailing spirit in these publications is that of a manwho is completely at home in Danish , who looks upon Dan ish ,with slight changes of pronunciation

,as his mother tongue,

as the N orwegian national language. He dwells fondly on the

difierence between the East and West N orwegian . Aasen

made the Lands 'maal out of West Norwegian dialects . Whyshould the East Norwegians accept it ? There is no place

where Landsmaal is spoken . There is a lack of uniformity .

Vinje had five different language forms from 1 8 5 8 to 1 870.

Now he uses boki, now East N orwegian boka, now regu lar

Telemarken language, now more the Aasen form . To make a

language one must base it on some one living dialect . Stormshows us that the languagewhich theHoyem brothers used was

in the main their Throndhj em dialect . (Fjertoft defended theright of the dialects as over against Aasen ’

s norm ) . Storm

shows how Garborg and Mortenson use the so-called Midlandform . He prophes ies that greater confusion will follow later,when more districts become interested . He claims that forms

84 E llehei

like bohj o, boj o, boko, bogo, baht, boha, bokj a, will all clamorfor recognition in the same capacity

,feminine s ingular def

inite. Then he speaks of the difficulties of all types— femininenouns

,neuters

,use of datives , the plural of verbs . He deplores

the lack of the s -posses sive although he well knows, as professor

of Romance philology,that the Romance languages get along

Splendidly without any such form .

As to the R iksmaal; the one drawback to this language isthat its tradition goes straight back to Copenhagen—the far

ther back, the more Danish it becomes . Its classics tend in a

foreign direction . Holberg, Wessel,Welhaven

,Bj iirnson ,

Ib

sen,all exert to a greater or less degree a Danish influence

when used as classics in the school-room. R iksmaal, if it isto make good progress in the direction of Norwegian idioms

and vocabulary , must partly renounce its tradi tion ,its class

ics . R iksmaal has been called Danish so much , that jus t nowit is very eager to prove how genuinely Norwegian it can be.

But its ancestry and traditions are there. The Landsmaal

wr iters have an easier task . They say , Bj iirson ,Ibsen ,

Wel

haven , etc.

,were Norwegians who wrote in Danish . We do

not include them in our tradition ,in our literature.

But the R iksmaal has become more Norwegian in sentence

structure,idi om,

vocabulary , and, to a limited extent , in the

form of the words . Asbj iirnsen and Moe, as I have said else

where in this article,wrote a language that is in spirit truly

Norwegian . Bjornson ’s peasant novels

,though containing

much Danish,have also many thoroughly Norwegian elements

in the language. Ibsen,too

,wrote well ; Peer Gynt, for in

s tance. I find in this play much that my dialect can sanctionfully ; many good N orwegian words and idioms . Of the cur

rent literature I shal l merely mention the charming stories of

Aanrud.

The opponents of Landsmaal have not always realized thatthe language movement , which came with the Romantic periodin Norway and has lived through realism and naturalism

,is

rightly or wrongly a manifestation of the N orwegian will to

live. If Landsmaal had been a mere fad,it would have been

dead long ago. The Landm aal movement has brought about

as an indirect effect , a rapid change in Dan ish-Norwegian in


6 Ltllehez'

whereas in Aasen ’s language all infinitives end in -a in bar

mony With most Wes t Norwegian dial ects .

A vast majority of periodicals and newspapers are yet in

Danish-N orwegian . Many of them print articles in bothlanguages , however . About twenty publications in all Nor

way are completely in Landsmaal, but most of them are

small . This state of affairs has nothing surprising in it. The

present journalists of N orway were to a man educated in

schools that used Danish as the only language. A chan ge forthe better will come when those who are now being educated

in Landsmaal grow up .

Four professors at the Univers ity use Landsmaal in their

courses . These are Hagstad , Liesttil, Koht, and Gjelsvik .

Several other professors are in favor of the movement , but

have not as yet changed language. A majori ty of the public

school teachers the country over are in favor of Landsmaal;about fifteen per cent of the school children are taught it asthe principal language. Many teachers use it regularly inall their work, and many more lend the language their moral

support . In certain Normal schools , N otodden ,for example,

only Landsmaal is used .

In the church the Landsmaal has made slow progres s . About

twenty years ago the poet-preacher Anders Hovden began to

conduct services in it. At the present time some thirty pas

tors use Landsmaal occasionally or exclusively .

The young people of Norway are for the greater part in

favor of Landsmaal. And herein lies the hOpe of the new

speech . It has been well said that for every old person that

di es, Danish-N orwegian loses a supporter

,and it is hard to

find one to take the place. The young peoples ’societies of

N orway—a national organ ization of about members

are nearly all in favor of restori ng the N orwegian language.

About to people now use Landsmaal. These

are mostly outside the cities and in West Norway. The fol

lowing figures regarding Landsmaal in the bishopric of Bergen may be of interest . And let me say here that this bishop

ric out of the six in Norway is beyond compare the best

Landm aal region . Out of school districts , 7 5 6 wereDanish-N orwegian

,and 264 L andsmaal, in 1 907 . In 1 911 the

Landsmaal and the La/nguage Movement in N orway 87

same school districts stood as follows : 480were Dan ish

Norwegian , and 61 2 were Landsmaal. That is,Landsmaal

gained 1 32 per cent in four years . (See Yversyn yver Mad l

stoda 7°

Bergens Bispedeme, 1 91 1 , Aalesund,N orway has made progress . It has obtained political independence. Commerce is in a flourishing condition,

emigration is decreas ing, education is as good and abundan t as in

any other country . The national feeling is growing s tronger .

Fewer mothers are now glad to get their sons to America intime to escape the N orwegian mi litary service

,and fewer men

are now so low in the s cale of patriotism ,as to be able to say

that it matters little after all whether the N orwegians speak

Norwegian or Danish . And,

finally , Norway is well on the

way toward acquiring a truly national speech ; a speech thatshall be the pride of all N orwegians ; a speech that shall voicetheir j oy and sorrow

,their despair and. hope, down through

the years and years to come.

IN GEBRIGT L IL LEHEI.

University of Illinois .

88 F orsythe

MODERN IMITATION S OF THE POPULAR BALLADIt is extremely dificult in a study of modern imitations of

the popular ballad to limi t properly the scope of the investigation . During the last two hundred years at least

,many

poems whether they do or do not resemble the tradi tionalpoetry of the non-literary classes have been termed balladsby their authors . In addition ,

many poems which have no

indication of the fact in their titles have more or less likenessto the popular ballad . To separate the imi tations of the

ballad from the poems whi ch , although they may be calledballads

,owe nothing actually to that literary form ,

is the

first aim of this paper. 1In clas sifying the material, one is forced to rely upon his

judgment alone to a considerable degree—too great a degree,indeed, for absolute accuracy. Many of the poems which havebeen considered contain only a few stanzas

,or even lines

,

which suggest an attempt at reproducing the language or

spirit of the tradi tional ballad . Others are a mixture of the

lyric 2 and .the ballad . Others have ballad themes and ballad

di ction in a complicated metrical structure,whi le s till other

poems have the s tructure of the ballad and little else that re

calls it. It is not an easy task, then, to distinguish between thetwo primary classes which have been formed : poems showingno evidence internally of an attempt at imitation ,

and thosethat do show evidences of such an attempt . An avoidance of

over-rigidi ty as to the exclusion or inclusion of doubtful

poems has been attempted in this paper with the probable

result that pieces of verse have been admitted which are only

remotely indebted to the ancient ballad . Some certainly differ1 The following are examples of poems called ballads by their authors,which show no evidences of imitation of the popular ballad : The

Ballad of the Beard, by W. H . Ainsworth ; L ouisa, a Ballad, by RobertAnderson ; Ballad, My F ather was a F armer, by R obert Burns ; Caledonia, a Ballad, by R obert Burns ; The Whis tle, a Ballad, by RobertBurns ; Ballad on the American War, by R obert Burns ; The CountryClergyman

’s Trip to Cambridge, an E lection Ballad, by L ord Macaulay ;

The Volunteer, a Ballad, by Mrs . G . S ewell ; A Ballad, by Mrs . G . Sewell ;The Devi l

’s Walk, A Ballad, by P . B . Shelley.

L yric in this paper is to be understood as meaning subjective

Modern Imitations of the Popular Ballad 89

greatly in essence from the popular ballad, but show its in

fluence in one way or another.

Three tests have to a certain extent been used in determin

ing the poems to be considered . The first of these is s tanzaic

form . Comparatively few poems have been admitted whichare not in the so-called ballad stanza, rhyming a b c b . This ,of course

,is a test not to be too rigorously applied

,since stan

zas of more or less than four lines in length occur in old

ballads,as Glasgerton, Earl Brand, and F air J( met. L ikewise

,

the rhyme-scheme is not invariable, but may be, for instance,a a b b

,as in King John and the Bisho

’

p, a a, as in Gil Brenton,

or a b c b d b,as in Lady Matsry, stanza 1 7 , vers ion B . L ittle

attention has been paid to metre,since that is variable in the

popular ballad,although the commonest measure, which may

be regarded as typical , exhibits four and three accents inalternating lines . As a second test the element of narrationhas been selected . N o poem of a wholly subjective .nature

has been admitted . Of course, it has been impossible to barsubjectivity entirely ; had it been done, few poems would

have survived the test. Many ballads contain a certain

amoun t of subjectivity which is subordinated to the generallynarrative or objective qual ity of the poem. Furthermore,s imple language, either naive or archaic

,is obviously neces

sary in the imitation balla‘

d . This test,like the others

,can

not be s trictly applied, since there is in the majority of thesepoems a constant fluctuation between s implicity and bookishness , between antiquity and modernity. Upon thes e threetests or

,more accurately , aids

, the primary clas sifications

of this discussion depend,except perhaps in case of the poems

which are included in type A . In them obvious resemblancein subject-matter has determined the fact of imitation .

The brief class ification contained in this paper makes no

pretensions to completeness , aiming rather to be sugges tivethan exhaustive, and to serve as an introduction to an in teresting phase of romanticism which has hitherto been partiallyneglected .

Although reputable poets wrote imitations of the popular

90 F orsythe

ballad 3and persons published ballad collections before that

date,4 1 765 has been chosen as the most convenient and the

most proper point of departure for this study . The publication of Percy ’

s Reliques of Ancient Englis h Poetry in that

year marks the beginning of an interes t in the popular ballad

which has had no need of an apology for its existence, 5 and

which has steadily increased up to the presen t time.

F or the sake of convenience it is necessary to divide thepoems which show evidence of being imitations of the ballad

into certain groups , according to subject matter and treat

ment . In making these distinctions , one is confronted by thesame difficulty as when distinguishing th e poems which are

imitative of the popular ballad from those which are not

that is,the various classes blend into each other to such a de

gree as to make defin ite classification in some cases almost

impossible. In these cases a note suggesting an alternative

clas sification has been appended to the ballad in question .

A . Imitations of the Plots of Specific Ballads .

B . Imitations of the Tone and Temper of the Border Bal

lad .

C . Ballads deal ing with the Supernatural or Weird .

D . Ballads based on History or Tradition .

E . Ballads dealing with Religious Subjects .

F . Humorous Ballads .

G. Ballads Founded on Sentiment .

Certain poems which fall under none of these heads havebeen placed in a

“Miscellaneous ” class (H ) .

Type A—Iniitations of Specific Ballads— includes those

poems which are clearly either imitations or re-workings of

certain popular ballads,or else close imitations of certain

ballad types . Ballads,translated from foreign languages

8 Ii ardyknu te, by L ady Wardlaw, William and Margaret, by DavidMallet, Jemmy Dawson , by William Shenstone, Molly May, by JohnGay, The Thief and Cordelier, by Matthew Prior are imitations of the

popular ballad before 1 765 .

4 F or example , A Collection of Old Ballads , three vols . 1 723-2 5 ,

edited probably by Ambrose Phillips .

6 See the prefaces to the three volumes of the Collection cited in

the preceding note.

Modern Imitations of the Popular Ballad 91

which fulfill the general requirements are cons idered under

this head . The following poems fall in this class1 . Mother and Son (William C . Bennett ) an imitation of

Edward, Cambridge Ballads, 2 . Lady Mary Ann (RobertBurns ) an imitation of a song heard by Burns in the Highlands . Of . 1 5 5 , Cambridge Ballads . 3. L ord Gregory, A

Ballad (Robert Burns ) founded on The Lass of Roch Royal,Child

’s Ballads, 76, B,or I. It is almost a lyric . 4. The Song

of the Western Men (R . S . Hawker ) an imitation of the old

song of the same name. 5 . Jaah Johnstone the Tinkler (JamesHogg ) ; an imitation of Robin Hood and the Tinker, Cambridge Ballads , 1 27 . 6 . S ir David Graeme (James Hogg ) ;an imitation of The Twa Corbies , Cambridge Ballads, p . 45 .

Of . L ord William, ibid , 2 5 4. 7 . The S ea-Wife (Rudyard Kipling ) an imitation of The Wife of Usher

’s Well. Cambridge

Ballads, 79 . 8 . The Last Rhyme of True Thomas (RudyardKipling ) ; an imitation of Thomas the Rhymer, Minstrelsy,Vol. IV , p . See also Child ’

s Ballads, 37 . 9 . The Water

King (M. G. L ewis ) ; an imitation of Lady Isabel and the

E lf-Knight, Cambridge Ballads , 4 B . 10. Courteous KingJamie (M. G. L ewis ) ; an imi tation of King Henry, Child

’s

Ballads , 32 . 1 1 . The F ause L edge (William Motherwell ) ;an imitation of L ady Isabel and the Elf-Knight, CambridgeBallads

,48 . - 1 2 . The Child of Elle (Thomas Percy ) ; an

imitation and conclusion of The Child of E lle, Reliques,Vol . I

,Bk . 1

, See also Earl Brand, Child’s Ballads,

7 . 13. The Marriage of Sir Gawaine (Thomas Percy ) ; a

completion of the ballad of the same name. R eliques , Vol .

II,bk. 7 , 1 . See Child

’s Ballads , 31 . 14. The Duke of A lba

(Edward Quillinan ) ; a trans lation of the Spanish ballad 0Duque D

’Alba, imitating the English popular ballad . 1 5 .

Thomas the Rhymer (Sir Walter Scott ) ; an imi tation and

completion of Thomas the Rhymer, Minstrelsy , Vol . IV . p . 86 .

See also Child ’s Ballads, 37 . 1 6 . A lice Brand (Sir Walter

Scott ) ; an imitation of Tam L in, Cambridge Ballads, 39.

6 lfh tglts'h and S cottish Popu lar Ballads . Edited from the Collection

of F rancis James Child by Helen Child Sargent and George L ymanKittredge . Boston and N ew York, 1 904.

References have been made whenever feasible to this excellentlyselected volume of ballads, because of its being more accessible to some

readers than the monumental collection of Professor Child .

7 Mins trelsy of the S cottish Border . Edited by T. J . Henderson .

Edinburgh. F our vols . Edinburgh, 1 902 .

8 R eliques of Ancien t English Poetry. By Thomas Percy. Editedby J V . Pritchard . Two vols . N ew York, 11 . d .

92 F orsythe

1 7 . Young Lochinvar (Sir Walter Scott ) ; an imitation of

Katherine Jafiray, Child’s Bal lads , 221 , and closest to ver

sions C,D

, and F . 1 8 . Proud Maisie (Sir Walter Scott ) ;an imitation of the ballad in which a lady converses with a

bird, such as Young Hunting, Cambridge Ballads , 68 . 1 9 .

The Bloody Son (A . C. Swinburne) an imitation of Edward,Cambridge Ballads , 1 3. 20. The S ea Swallows (A . C. Swin

burne) ; an imitation of the question and answer type of

ballad . Of. 1,2,4,5,46

, Cambridge Ballads .

Type B—Imitations of the tone and temper of the Border

Ballad— includes certain imi tations of the an cient popular

ballad the s cenes of which are laid in the lowlands of Scot

land, or in the north of England and especially about the

borders of the two countries . Their themes are chiefly love or

war . In this clas s are included .

1 . Earl Walter (James Hogg) . 2 . The Laird of Lain’

ston

(James Hogg ) . 3. Gilmanscleueh (James Hogg ) . 4. The

Tweeddale Ratde (Robert Hogg ) . 5 . Kenneth (Henry Mac

kenzie) . 6 . Duncan (Henry Mackenzie) ; almos t too bookishand modern . 7 . The S layne Meh strel (William Motherwell ) .

8 . Christie’s Will (Sir Walter Scott ) . 9 . The Reiver

’s Wed

ding (Sir Wal ter Scott ) . 10. Elspeth’s Ballad (Sir Walter

Scott ) . 1 1 . Jock of Haseldeam (Sir Walter Scott ) . 1 2 .

Cadyow Castle (Sir Walter Scott ) ; almost too bookish . 1 3.

The Eve of S t. John (Sir Walter Scott ) . 14. The L ord Her

ries, his Complaint (C. K. Sharpe) . 1 5 . The Murder ofCaerlcweroe (C . K. Sharpe) . 1 6 . Lady Jean (Robert White) .

Type C—Ballads dealing with the Supernatural or Weird

includes those imi tations of the ancient ballad which have as

their primary purpose the inspiring of horror, fear , or wonder in the reader through the use of supernatural characters

or gruesome incidents . The following poems fall in this

class1 . The L egend of the Lady of Rookwood (W. H . Ainsworth ) somewhat bookish in diction . 2 . The Old Oak Coffin

(W. H . Ainsworth ) 9somewhat bookish in di ction . 3. The

Elden Tree, cm Ancient Ballad. (Joanna Baillie) . 4. Mel

colm’s Heir, a Tale of Wonder (Joanna Baillie) ; somewhat

literary in language. 5 . L ord ' John of the Eas t, a Ballad

(Joanna Baillie) . 6 . S creaming Tarn (Robert Bridges ) onlya few stanzas show an imitation of the popular ballad . 7 .

1 and 2 occur in Ainsworth’

s R ookwood, pp. 94 and 1 49, respectively.


94 F orsythe

Type D—Imitations bas ed on History or Tradition— includes those imitations of the popular ballad which take theirsubjects from history or from tradition and which are not

treated in other classes . The following poems are groupedunder this head :1 . The Custom of Dunmow (W. H . Ainsworth ) ; not in a

common ballad metre. 2 . The Barber of Ripon and theGhostly Basin (W. H . Ainsworth ) ; 1 2 see 1 . 3. The Heart ofthe Bruce (W. E . Aytoun ) . 4. The L ay of Talbot the Troubador (W. L . Bowles ) . 5 . TheHarp of Heel (W. L . Bowles ) .

6 . The S ong of the 07d (W. L . Bowles ) . 7 . MuehlemouthMeg (Robert Browning ) . 8 . Charlie, he is my Darling (Robert Burns ) . 9 . The Bristowe Tragedy (Thomas Chatterton ) .

10. The Cid’s Departure into E x ile (Felicia Hemans ) . 1 1 .

The Cid’s Deathbed (Felicia Hemans ) ; rhymes a b a b.

1 2 . The F ray of E libamk (James Hogg ) . 13. Hengist and

Meg (W. J Mickle) . 1 4. Rich and Rare were the Gems SheWere (Thomas Moore) . 1 5 . The White Ship (D . G. Rossetti ) ; some stanzas do not suggest the ancient popular ballad .

1 6 . The King’s Tragedy (D . G. Rossetti ) . 1 7 . The Gray

Brother (Sir Walter Scott ) . 1 8 . The Horn of EgremontCastle (William Wordsworth ) contains a considerable amountof the s implicity of. the ballad.

Type E—Ballads dealing with religious subjects— includesthose imitations of the popular ballad which are bas ed on

Biblical episodes,or which have to do with the Church , or

with religion and the religious in general . Under this headfall the following poems1 . The Rising at Aw: (Cecil Frances Alexander ) . 2 . The

Ballad of Mary the Mother (Robert Buchanan ) ; certainstanzas resemble the popular ballad fairly closely. 3. The

Ballad of Judas Iscariot (Robert Buchanan ) ; this poem has

the qualities of Type C to a cons iderable degree. 4. The Bal

lad of Monk Julius (P . B . Mars ton ) . 5 . Queen Ormca and

the F ive Martyrs of Morocco (Robert Southey ) .

Type F—Humorous Ballads—includes ballads which are

humorous either in subject matter or in treatment , or, itmay be, in both . The following poems may be placed in thisclas s .

1 . Old Grinrod’s Ghost (W. H . Ainsworth ) not many ele

1 2 1 and 2 occur in The F litch of Bacon, pp. 67 and 1 5 6, respectively,the N ovels of W. Harrison A insworth, London, 11 . d . On p. 2 5 1 occursThe Ballad of the Beard, mentioned in note 1 .

Modern Imitations of the Popular Ballad 9 5

ments of the popular ballad . 2 . The Knight ofMalta (W. H .

Ainsworth ) ; form not that usually found in the popularballad . 3. Will Davis and Dick Turpin (W. H . Ainsworth ) ;1 3rhymes a a a a. 4. A Lay of S t. N icholas (R . H . Barham ) .

5 . N ell Cook, a L egend of the Dark Entry (R . H . Barham ) .

6 . T0 the Weaver’s Gin Ye Go (Robert Burns ) . 7 . The

Battle of Shermmuir (Robert Burns ) ; this poem may be

placed here or under Type A,as it is an imitation of an old

bal lad of the same name. 8 . The Braes of Killiecmnhte

(Robert Burns ) . 9 . The F ive Carlins , an E lection Ballad

(Robert Burns ) ; allegorical and satirical to some extent .10. Kellyburn Braes (Robert Burns ) The F armer ’

s OldWifeis the source (see. 278

, Cambridge Ballads . ) The poem mightbe placed under Type A . 1 1 . S triking (C . S . Calverley ) .

1 2 . Ballad (The Auld Wife Sat at Her [ vied Door ) (0. S .

Calverley ) . 13. The F reere of Orderys Whyte (Thomas Chatterton ) the title suggests Percy ’

s F riar of Orders Gray, andalthough the resemblance is confined to the titles

,it may be a

parody of Percy ’s sentimental ballad . 14. The Diverti fng

History of John Gilpin (William Cowper ) . 1 5 . The Gude

Grey Katt (James Hogg ) ; the imitation of the traditionalballad is chiefly in the spelling . 1 6 . The Powrfis of Mosehe

(James Hogg ) see 1 5 . 1 7 . T he F all of Joch Gi llespie (Rudyard Kipling ) ; thi s poem parodi es one of the conventionalopen ing paragraphs of the popular ballad , and the use of

ques tion and answer (See 1 61 , 1 78 , Cambridge Ballads forthe first point . Citations are not necessary for the second ) .

1 8 . Archie Armstrong’s Aith (John Marriott ) ; this poem

might be placed under Type C.

Type G —Ballads Founded on the Sentiments— includesthose ballads which gain their effect chiefly through their appeal to love

, p ity, and the like.

1 4 The following poems may belisted under this head :1 . S ir Maurice, a Ballad (Joanna Baillie) . 2 . Bonnie Jean

(Robert Burns ) ; not far from being purely subjective. 3.

The Lament of e y Queen of S cotts (Robert Burns ) ; ismore a lyric than a ballad

,but it has some of the ballad

elements in it. 4. L ord Ullin’s Daughter (Thomas Campbell ) .

5 . Lady Mary , a Ballad (Janet Hamilton ) much that is sub

13 1 is found in The F litch of Bacon, p. 1 5 2, and 2 and 3 in R ookwood,

pp. 1 80 and 274, respectively.

1 ‘ This class in general approaches the purely subjective more closelythan any one of the other classes which have been formed.

96 F orsythe

j ective. 6. 0 F almouth is a F ine Town (W. E . Henley ) .

7 . The L iddel Bower (James Hogg ) . 8 . The Y07mg Knight(Charles Kingsley ) the rhyme-scheme (a a a b ) is unusual .

9 . A N ew F orest Ballad (Charles Kingsley ) this poem mi ghtalmost be placed under Type C . 10. The Song of the Li ttleBaltung (Charles Kings ley ) . 1 1 . The Gift of the S ea, (Rudyard Kipling ) . 1 2. Soldier, Soldier (Rudyard Kipling ) veryclose to Type F . 1 3. The ThreeMaidens (George Meredith )rhymes a b a b . 14. Margaret

’s Bridal Eve (George Mere

dith ) rhymes a b a c. 1 5 . Love’s R eward (William Morris )

some stanzas recall the popular ballad . 1 6 . Welland River

(William Morris ) . 1 7 . The Sailing of the Sword (WilliamMorris ) . 1 8 . The Rose and the F air Li lye (William Motherwell ) . 1 9 . True L ove

’s Dirge (William Motherwell ) . 20.

Love from the N orth (Christina Ro ssetti ) . 21 . S tratton Wa

ter (D . Gr. Rossetti ) . 22 . Ah Old Song Ended (D. G. Rossetti ) . 23. Song in Rokeby—

‘

O,Brignall Banks are Wild and

F atr— (Sir Walter Scott ) . 24. Allan-a-Dale (Sir WalterScott ) rhymes a a b b c c. 25 . The Orphan Maid (Sir WalterScott ) ; rhymes a b a b . 26. The F ire King (Sir WalterScott ) this poem which is close to Type B ,

rhymes a a b b .

27 Albert Graeme (Sir Walter Scott ) . 28 . Glenkind/te (William B. Scott ) ; some slight imitation of Glasgem

'

on, Child

’s

Ballads,67 . 29 . The Ballad of Oriana (Lord Tennyson ) the

structure is unusual , and it is close to the pur ely subjective.

30. Edward Gray (Lord Tennyson ) ; some characteristics of

the popular ballad are discernible. 31 . The S isters (LordTennyson )

Type H—Miscellaneous Ballads— includes those imi tationsof the popular ballad which cannot be placed under any of the

types , owing either to a lack of the elements necessary forclass ification ,

or to such a mixture of elements as to make

classification an altogether too arbitrary matter . The follow

ing poems may be included in this group

1 . John Barleycorn (Robert Burns ) . 2 . Thirlestane

(James Hogg ) . 3. The Boar he would a-wooi fng go (JamesHogg ) . 4. Meg Merri lfles (John Keats ) . 5 . S cotch Song

1" This poem is founded upon S ir John Barleycorn, reprinted in V ol.

II, Early Popu lar Poetry of S cotland and the N orthem Borders , edited

by David L aing, and reedited by W. C . Hazlitt. The version of the

poem here printed is said by the editor to be from a“common stall copy

printed in the year This is probably a reprint or a version of

one of the following : S ir John Barleycorne, entered in the Stationers ’

Register at London, December 1 4, 1 624 ; The L ittle Barleycorn , entered


Kelsey

INDIAN DAN CES IN THE TEMPES’T

The relation of“The Tempest to contemporary interest

in American di scovery and settlement was first suggested by

Malone in his “ Essay on the Chronological Order of Shakespeare ’

s Plays , published in 1790. The surmi se that the play

may have been based upon “some particular and late mis

fortune at sea” Malone later confirmed by a pamphlet

,

“An

Account of The Incidents from which The Title and Part

of The Story of Shakespeare ’s Tempest were derived ; and

its True date Ascertained, ” publi shed in 1 808 . In the adver

tisement the author s tates that he had conceived the di scoveryhis own until the publication of Douce ’

s“Illustrations of

Shakespeare” within these few days , ” in which the edi tor

had pointed out the value of the Jourdan and Strachey pam

phlets not only for determin ing the date of The Tempest ”

but also as having suggested material for the play. Malone

in this las t pamphlet (reprinted in Boswell ’s Malone, 1 821 )names fourteen publications dating from 1 602-1 612, of whichBoswell reprints thirteen , and s tates that he believes the listfar from complete. In his di scussion on the relation of

“The

Tempest” to these accounts of voyages , the author first makes

the details of the famous wreck of the ship of Sir GeorgeSomers and Sir Thomas Gates clear, by quoting freely fromStith

’s

“ History of the first discovery and settlement of

Virginia. Then for particular details to compare with “The

Tempes t he quotes from the“True Declaration ” issued by

the Council, 1 609-10, and from Jourdan ’s pamphlet, 1 610,

pointing out correspondences both in incident and in detailsof the setting. Strangely enough

,he omi ts discuss ion of

Strachey’s

“True Repertory ”

or letter of July 1 5,1 610.

Although he does not quote from the Rosier pamphlet, heemphas izes the interes t of the Earl of Southampton in voy

ages of discovery and settlement, the expedi tion under Captain George Weymouth ,

fitted out by Southampton and Lord

Arundel and the interest of Southampton in the new charterof 1 609

, leading to the expedi tion under Somers and Gates .

Of the pamphlets of 1 61 2, Malone makes no use ; for he had

certain knowledge of the ex istence of“The Tempes t in

Indian Dances ih The Tempest”

99

1 61 1 . Although Malone ’s work has s ince been proved not

wholly accurate, his conclus ions have been on the whole

accepted.

Other early editors ,1 Theobald , Warburton ,Johnson , Ca

pell, Farmer, and Steevens used the pamphlets to explaincertain allus ions in the play, but they did not see that “

The

Tempest” had been bas ed directly on Elizabethan interest in

this voyage, reflected in conversation and printed pamphlets .

Furness in the Variorum edition of“The Tempest ,

”1 892

,

summarized Malone ’s results and quoted freely from the

Jourdan narrative. He suggested that if we could push the

date of “The Tempes t ” on to 1 613, the earliest date for which

we have pos itive evidence, we could include a Stracheypamphlet of 1 61 2

, the identity of which he left confused .

Furnes s then mentioned the poss ible acquaintanceship of

Strachey and Shakespeare, surmised by Meissner from the

fact that Strachey had written some poetry and that his

pamphlet on “The Colony in Virginea Brittania”

was issued

From my lodging in the blacke Friers .

The first real addition to Malone ’

s dis cuss ion of the subjectwas made by Mr . Luce in the appendix to the Arden edition

of“The Tempest 1 906 . Mr . Luce has simplified the matter

by giving a fairly complete list of pamphlets on American

discovery, issued from 1 608-1 613, discussing the mos t signi

ficant at some length . He has also cleared away the confusionin regard to the various Strachey manuscripts and publica

tions . In this summary Mr . Luce notices particularly : The

Despatch sent by De la Warre in charge of Gates July 1 5 ,1 610; Strachey

’s Letter or “

Repertory ” written to some ‘ex

cellent lady ’in England and probably carried by the same

ship ; Jourdan ’s,

“ A Discovery of the Bermudas , otherwise

called the Ile of Devils written soon after the au

thor landed in England ; and A True Declaration of the se

tate of the Colonies in Virginia Published by Advise and di rection of the Councell of Virginia, From

the las t three accounts,Mr . Luce has cited a large number of

parallelisms,both in thought and phras ing , between the pam

phlets and the play, the cumulative evidence of which is rea

1 F urness Variorum Ed. p. 308.

100 Kelsey

sonably convincing that Shakespeare based The Tempest

in part on contemporary accounts of travel .

Mr . Luce,however, in his very thorough summary of the

pamphlets related to“The Tempest ” , does not consider

Shakespeare ’

s poss ible indebtedness to these pamphlets for

descriptions of the Indian dances , which may have furn ishedsuggestive material for portions of the masque element of. the

play . In enumerating the vari ous publications ; Mr . Luce

begins with those of 1 608 , thereby omitting the accoun t of

theWeymouth expedi tion fitted out by the Earl of Southampton and Lord Arundel , published in 1 605 . To this Shakespeare, on account of his friendship for Southampton ,

would

natural ly be attracted and from it the practical craftsmanmay have gleaned a bare suggestion for the strange burden

of Ariel ’s Song,Act I, Sc. 2, which in the 1 623 Folio reads :

Come unto these yellow sands,

and then take handsCurtsied when you have and kist

the Wilde waves whist ;F oote it featly heere, and there, and sweete

sprights beare the burthen. BURTHEN DISPER SEDLYHarke, harke, bowgh wawgh ; the watch-doggesbarke, bowgh-wawgh .

A r. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of

strutting chanticlere cry cockadidle-dowe.

The pamphlet thus describes an Indian dance on the shoreGriffin which lay on Shoare

,reported unto me their

manner, and (as I may tearme them ) the ceremonies of theirIdolatry

,which they perform thus . One among them (the

eldest of the company as he judged ) riseth right up, the rest

s itting still,and so sodatnely cryed, Bowh, waugh ; then the

women fall downe,and lye upon the ground

,and the men al

together answering the same, fall a stamping round about

with both feet as hard as they can,making the ground shake,

with sundry loud outcries and change of voice and sound.

” 2

Indian music and dances are among the features of Indian

life most enthus ias tically described in the accoun ts and

may eas ily have caught Shakespeare ’s attention .

In the Strachey publication of 1 612,

“The Proceedings of

2 Purchas , hi s Pilgrims (Glasgow 1 906 ) V ol. XVI I I, p. 344.


102 Kelsey

sitting upon a mat ; suddenly amongst the woods was heardsuch a hideous noise and shriking that they betooke them to

their armes , supposing Powhatan with all his power cameto surprise them ; but the beholders which were many, men ,

women , and children ,satisfied the captaine there was no such

matter,being presently presented with this anticke, thirty

yong women came naked out of the woods (only covered behinde and before with a few greene leaves ) their bodi es all

painted , some whi te, some red, some blacke, some party

colour, but every one different , their leader had a faire paire

of Stagges hom es on her head and another Skinne at her

girdle, another at her arme, a quiver of Arrowes in her hand ,the next in her hand a Sword, another a Clubbe, another a

Pot-sticke,all horned alike, the rest every one with their

several devices . These fiends with most hellish cries and

shouts rushing from amongst the trees cast themselves in a

ring about the fire,singing and dancing with excellent ill

variety,oft falling into their infernall pass ions and then sol

emnly againe to -

s ing and dance. Having spent neere an

houre in this Maskarodo, as they entred, in like manner they

departed. Having reaccommodated themselves, they solemnly

invited Smith to their lodging, but no sooner was hee

within the house, but these Nimphes more tormented him thanever most tediously crying

,Love you not mee ? This saluta

tion ended, the feast was set, cons is ting of Fruite in Baskets ,Fish and Flesh in woodden Platters , Beans and Peas e therewanted not for twenty Boggss ) nor any savage daintie

which their invention could devise some attending, others

singing and dancing about them; this mirth and banquet

being ended with Firebrands (instead of Torches ) they con

ducted him to his lodging.

”

This strange and grotesque dance, which the author calls‘ this Anticke, ’ ‘ this maskarado ’ would have delighted an

Elizabethan audience and might well have been one of the

features of“The Tempest” which called forth the well

known censure of Ben Jonson in the Induction to Bar

tholomew Fai r,

”1 614. The elements of the mas que (Act III ,

Sc. 3) which makes one suspect a relationship between i tand the pamphlet are : the strange mus icks

, the several

India/n Dances in“ The Tempest

’103

strange shapes, the Banket, the gentle actions of salutation

inviting the King to cats . The fact that the Shapes enter,dance, depart and re-enter as they did in the Indian dancealso seems significant. The conversation following the dumbshow seems further to suggest that Shakespeare thought ofthe masque as a phenomenon of beyond sea.

Give us kind keepers ; what were these ?A living Drolerie ; now I will beleeveThat there are Unicornes ; that in ArabiaThere is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phcenix

At this houre reigning there.

Ant. Ile beleeve bothAnd what do’

s else want credit, come to me

And Ile besworne’tis true : Travelers nere did lye

Though tooles at home condemne ’em.

Gon. If in N aplesI should report this now, would they beleeve me ?

If I should say I '

saw such Islands ;

(F or certes , these are people of the Island)Who though they are of monstrous shape yet note

Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of

Our humaine generation you will find

Many, nay almost any.

The two following masques in Act IV are much more con

ventional, introducing the classic and pas toral elements found

in“ Cymbeline”

and TheWinter ’s Tale.

”This one is quite

difierent and on the whole far more congruous with the wonders of the Inchanted Isle beyond the seas .

RACHEL M. KELSEY .

Milwauhee.

1O4 Graves

THE ORIGIN OF THE CUSTOM OF SITTING ON THE

STAGE

A few years ago Professor 0.W. Wallace advanced the novelstatements that “

the fad of s itting on the stage came intovogue with the Blackfriars in 1 5 97 that it is first alluded

to in 1 5 98, and that it was“a custom in no other theatre in

Elizabeth ’s reign ”

.

1 The assertions were as unfortunate as

they were novel,for in a short while after their appearan ce

Professor 0. R . Baskervill showed conclusively that the cus tommust have originated before 1 5 97 , hence not at the Black

friars,and that it was by no means confined to pri vate

theatres .

2

Very recently, however, Professor F euillerat has founddocuments establishing the existence of a Blackfriars Theatreas early as 1 5 77 .

3 As a result of this important dis covery thequestion may arise whether after all the cus tom of sitting on

the stage did not originate at the Blackfriars . Indeed, W. J

Lawrence has already raised the question . Speaking of the

s ize and structure of this early playhouse, and arguing thatit possessed no galleries for spectators , he writes :4 “

One can

readi ly surmise that when the house was in the meridian of its

prosperity, say in 1 5 82, when Gosson speaks of ‘a great many

comedies ’ being acted there, the supply of pit-seats wouldoften be cons iderably less than the demand . Surely we havein this a clue to the origin of s itting on the stage. It seems

reasonably well assured that that custom began in the privatetheatre, and it has already been demonstrated that it was inexistence before the erection of the second Blackfriars . We

have, therefore, fai r grounds for assuming that it first came

into force at Farrant ’s house. If this assumption could be

taken as a certainty, it would of itself prove the absence of

gall eri es in the earlier Blackfriars , as , mos t indubitably, it canonly have been under the severest pressure that the customwas allowed to spring into existence.

”

1 Children of the Chapel at Blackfriars , p. 1 30.

2Mod. Philology, VIII, 5 81 -86 .

8 S hakespeare Jahrbuch, XLVII I , pp. 81 seq.

The E liz. P layhouse and Other S tudies , p. 234.


1 06 Gra/ves

inence of the chief:° spectator, and the s ize and structure of

the s tages , which at courtly entertainments seem, until rathera late date, to have served for the masque following the playas well as for the play itself .6Whether Henry VIII 7“ ever occupied the stage on such

occas ions,I am unable to say , but one passage perhaps implies

that he di d. Wri ting to his brother in 1 5 27,Spinelli thus

described the play given by Wolsey : “ Supper being ended ,they proceeded to the first hall where a very well de

signed stage had been prepared, on which the Cardinal ’s

gentlemen recited Plautus ’Latin comedy entitled Menaech

mi . On its conclus ion all the actors , one after the other,presented thems elves to the King, and. on their knees recitedto him ,

some more and some less , Latin verses in his praise.

7b

Similarly the epilogues of early court plays must have beenspoken di rectly to royalty very near at hand ; and there isconsiderable evidence to show that the actors , instead of

des cending from the stage and pas sing to the royal state or

canopy at the opposite end of the hall, where it was s ituatedin the later masques , really remained on the stage, and kneel

ing before the state very close at hand addressed the royal

6 Cf. passages below, Reyher, L es Masques Anglais , Machyn, D iary,

p. 27 5 , etc.

7“ In connection with the origin of the custom of sitting on the stage

two or three passages should perhaps be noted . Writing about the

early indoor stage in Paris, S tuart, (S tage Decoration in F rance, p. 1 93)refers to a miniature of Jean F ouquet showing

“a second story of a

stage in which is found Paradise, the emperor, certain devils and some

spectators.

” What are these “spectators”? Elegantes on the stagewere unknown in F rance in the middle of the sixteenth century, says

Bapst (E ssai sur l’

his toire da Theatre, p. Albright in quotingthe stage direction accompanying the stage plan of the Cas tle of Per

severance defines s tytelerys as auditors (The Shakspea/rian S tage, p.

F urnivall, however, in his edition of the Macro Plays gives to the wordthe meaning of orderers , arrangers , managers . There is no evidence,says R ennert (The Spam

‘

s h S tage, p. that spectators occupiedthe stage in Spain in the sixteenth century, although he affirms that one

might infer from a passage (latter halt° of sixteenth century ) thatthey occupied the platform at the presentation of the short au tos or

farces ( Ibid., note ) .

S tate Papers , Venetian, 1 5 27-33, p. 2 .

The Origin of the Custom of S itting on the S tage 107

occupant . That this state was sometimes placed on the stage

there can be no doubt . Such was the case at Cambridge in 1 5 64.

According to F euillerat,9 the “ dais ”of the Queen was on this

occasion contre l ’un des murs laté raux ”

of King ’s College

Chapel . It was situated on the stage, however, as the following passage shows : “

F or the hearing and playing whereof[

‘Aulularia was made, by her Highness surveyor

and at her own cost, in the body of the Church , a great stagecontaining the breadth of the church from one side to the

other,that the chappels might serve for hous es . In the length

it ran two of the lower chappels full , with the pillars on a side.

Upon the south-wal l was hanged a cloth of state, with the

appurtenances and half-path for her Majesty Whenall things were ready for the plays , the Lord Chamberlaynwith Mr. Secretary came in ,

bringing a multitude of the

guard with them, having every man in his hand a torch-staif ,for the lights of the play (for no other lights were occupied )and would not suffer any to stand upon the stage, save a very

few upon the north s ide. And the guard stood upon the

ground by the stage s ide, holding their lights . From the quiredoore unto the stage was made as

’twere a bridge, rayled on

both s ides : for the Queen’s Grace to go to the s tage : which

was straightly kept . 9

Now the significant thing about this arrangement is thatit was designed by “

her Highn es surveyor” and at her own

cost . He was obviously reproducing, so far as possible, the

conditions as he was acquainted with them at court performanecs . The invaders of the stage at Cambridge

,as des cribed

at a later date by Harington,had royal precedent for their

procedure.

The passage above is also significant in that it helps to

clarify matters at Oxford in 1 5 66 . At the disputation there9 Burewu des Mew s Plais irs , p. 74.

9 N ichols, Prog. of E liz., ed. 1 788, I, 1 3-1 4. See also R obinsin’s des

cription ( Ibid. II I, Ou this same stage Dido and Ezechias were also

acted ( Ibid ., I, and while D ido was “a handling, the L O. Robert,

steward to the universitie, and Mr. secretarie Cecil, chancellor, to

signifye their good wille, and that things might be orderlye done,vouchsafed to hold both books on the scafiold themselves” (Ibid .,I I I

,

108 Graves

on the occas ion of the Queen’s vis it

, the state apparently

occupied the speakers ’ platform,

1 0and in view of the passage

above it is Virtually certain that , as F euillerat affirms (L e

Bureau, p . her Majesty occupied the stage when Ed

ward ’

s Palamon and Arcyte was presented on the same oc

cas ion . Durand ’s translation of the part of Bereblock

’

s

description which is of sign ificance in this connection followsIn the first place there was a remarkable proscenium there,with an approach thrown open from the great solid wall ; andfrom it a hanging wooden bridge stretched across tothe great hall of the college Through th is bridge

,with

out commotion and without contact with the press ing crowd ,the Queen might hasten by an easy as cent to the play, when itwas ready On each side of the s tage magnificent

palaces and well equipped houses are built up for the actors

in the comedi es and for the masked persons (commcedis ac

personatis ) . On high a seat had been fix ed, adorned withcushions and tapes tries and covered with a golden canopy ;this was the place made ready for the Queen .

” 1 1

Now if it is established that Queen Elizabeth actually oc

cupied the s tage at an early date, then the passages suggesting

her proximi ty to the actors in later court plays must be

given consideration In The Arraignment of Paris , V ,

“the

state being in place the Fates “lay down their properties

at the Queenes feete while Diana delivereth the ball of

golde to the Queenes owns hands ”. In Trotte ’

s introductionto Misfortunes of Arthur we have the direction :

“Three

Muses come upon the stage apparelled accordingly bringing

five gentlemen s tudents with them attyred in their usuall

garments , whom one of the Muses presented to her Maiestie

as captives .

”

In Lyly’s Sapho and Phao the Prologue kneels before the

Queen and speaks directly to her . In the same manner the

prologue to Gallathea, the prologue and epilogue to Endy

mion, etc . ,would gain in point and effectiveness if they were

spoken to the Queen actually on the stage. Finally , some

light may possibly be thrown on the s ituation of the chief spec1 0 N ichols, Prog . of E liz., I I I , Wood

’

s account, pp. 1 10-1 1 1 .

1 1 P . M. L . A XI I I, p. 5 05 , cf. Plummer, Eliz. Ox ford, pp. 1 23-24.


1 10 Hughes

CHARACTERIZATION IN CLARISSA HARLOWEDuring the hundred and fifty odd years s ince the publication of Richardson ’

s masterp iece Clarissa Harlowe,there

has been an interesting alternation of opinion on the part of

his readers as to the realistic value of the character-drawingof this retiring, sentimental printer . We have before us

interes ting documetary evidence of various consp icuous parties to the discussion ; we may compare the definite pro

nouncement of intention which the author himself makes inhis meticulous preface to the novel, with the Opini ons of

several friends and contemporaries recorded in his corre

spondence—a valuable literary record, edited by Mrs . Bar

bauld and published in 1 804 (but unfortunately never re

printed )—and in the letters and diari es of Dr . Johnson and

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu . And we may also bri ng for

ward for comparison the Opinion of latter-day critics such as

Hazlitt , Sir L eslie Stephen ,Augustine Birrell , and W. D .

Howells . The characters about whom opini on has been most

positive and most diverse are,of course, Clarissa herself,

Lovelace the Villain ,and Miss Howe, the confidante of the

heroine.

R ichardson ,always ready to devote ample time to the

portrayal of his characters , through dialogue, self-analysis , thecomment of other characters

,and footnotes by the author,

surpas ses all his other efiorts in the fulness and exactnessof his delineation of Clarissa ’

s character . In addition to the

solicitous attention given her throughout the course of the

story, the author makes an addi tional efiort in a

“Postscript ”

to jus tify her according to the canons of real life, waiving as

uncomprehending the criticism,which evidently ex is ted even

in hi s own day , that the“ incomparable lady”

was not en

tirely a product of this world . He writes with almost petu

lant insistence : “ Some there are, and ladies too ! who havesupposed that the excellencies of the heroine are carried toan improbable and even an impracticable height in the

History . But the education of Clarissa from early childhood

ought to be considered as one of her very great advantages

Characterization in“Clarissa Harlowe

”1 1 1

and indeed the very foundation of all her excellencies ; andit is hoped for the sake of the doctrine designed to be inculcated by it, that it will It mus t be confessed that we

are not to look for Clarissa ’s among the constant frequenters

of Ranelagh and Vauxhall , nor among those who may be

called daughters of the card table. If we do the characterof the heroine may then indeed be justly thought not only

improbable, but unattainable. But we have neither room in

this place, nor inclination , to pursue a subject so invidious .

We quit it . therefore after we have repeated that we know

there are some, and we hope there are many in the BritishDominion who as far as occasion has called upon themto exert the like humble and modest yet steady and useful Virtues , have reached the perfection of Clarissa.

” 1

Evidently from many devoted readers of his own timeR ichards on secured a satisfactory conformity to his opinions .

The singular unan imity with which several famous literary

personages of the period un ite in affirming that Clarissa is a

natural character” lead one to reflect on the poss ibility of

a higher level of behavior than the middle of the eighteenthcentury is usually credited wi th , or a lower order of dis

cernment.

Foremost and bes t known among these contemporary eriticisme is Boswell ’s record of a conversation with Dr. John sonon the merits of R ichardson and Fielding . Boswell writes“It always appeared to me that he (Johnson ) estimated thecompos itions of Richardson too highly, and that he had an un

reasonable prejudice against Fielding. In compari ng those twowriters , he used this expression :

‘ that there was as great

difference between them as between a man who knew how a

watch was made and aman who could tell the hour by lookingat the dial plate. This was a short and figurative statement of

his distinction between drawing characters of nature and

characters only of manners . But I cannot help being of

Opinion that the real watches of Fielding are as well con

s tructed as the large clocks of R ichardson ,and that his dial

plates are brighter. Fielding ’s characters though they do not

expand themselves so widely in dissertation are just pictures1 C’lam

’

s sa Harlowe. Tauchnitz Edition, IV , 499 .

1 1 2 Hughes

of human nature, and I will venture to say ,have more strik

ing features , and nicer touches of: the pencil . ” 2 Boswell ’s

judgment , indeed, accords with that of many a modern reader,but Dr. Johnson

,in this as in other matters

,voiced the

general Opinion of his own age.

The captious,critical Lady Mary Wortley Montagu ,

far

traveler and writer of letters , a luckless friend of Pope and

avowedly not an admirer of Richardson,writes : “

The two

firs t tomes of Clarissa touched me as being very resemblingto my maiden days .

” 9 Miss Sara Fielding, a loyal admirer andcorrespondent of R ichardson ’

s , though the s ister of his greatand un duly hated rival

,writes to R ichardson of Clarissa :

“When I read of her I am all sensation ; my heart glows ;I am overwhelmed ; my only vent is tears ; and unless tears

could mark my thoughts as legibly as ink,I cannot speak half

I feel . I become like the Barlowe ’

s servant,when he spoke

not ; he could not speak ; he looked, he bowed, and withdrew.

”4

Perhaps this excess ive veneration is hardly such as Miss

Fielding would accord to an individual of her own world ,

yet the unreality of Clarissa ’s character is not so pronounced

in her mind as to destroy the illusion .

Mrs . Barbauld,R ichardson ’

s biographer, herself a prom

inent literary figure of the time,writes : “We regard the

characters as real personages , whom we know and conversewith

, and whose fate remains to be decided in the course of

events .

”Yet she goes on to say of the chief of these “ real

personages ” “The character of Clarissa is all along very

highly wrought ; she has all the grace oi. dign ity and delicacy

of a finished model of female excellence.

” 5 Thus,whoever

may have been the crude and undi scriminating “some” ‘

and

ladies too”for whose benefit R ichardson wrote his defence

in the Postscri pt , the recorded judgment of his peers , withthe exception of the unassuming Boswell , evidently supported

9 Boswell’s L ife of Samuel Johnson, Everyman’s L ibrary. 1 , 343.

9 Letters o f L ady Montagu, Everyman’s L ibrary, p. 461 .

4 Barbauld, Correspondence of Samuel R ichardson (L ondon, 1 804)

II, 60.

“Correspondence, I, Lx x x n.


1 14 Hughes

but she was as much like Clarissa as a ship in dock is like a

ship at sea and on fire.

” 8

But Mr . Howells caps the climax of this seri ous commenda

tion of Clarissa ’s naturalness when he writes in hi s Heroines

in F iction :“ Clarissa Harlowe, in spite of her eighteenth

century costume and keeping, remains a mas terpiece in the

portraiture of that ever-womanly, which is of all times and

places . The form of the novel in which she appears, the

epistolary form ,is of all forms the most averse to the apparent

unconsciousness of so fascinating a heroine, yet the cunning

of R ichardson (it was in some things an unrivalled cunning )triumphs over the form,

and shows us Clarissa with no more

pose than she would confront herself wi th in the glass .

” 9

One wonders whether Mr . Howells,in his preparation of these

volumes for the holiday trade, found time to reread many of

the seven volumes in which Clarissa achi eves her tas k of

self-revelation with such “apparent uncons ciousness .

”Na

tural she may have seemed to contemporary readers , whosecriteria were bas ed upon the lofty ladi es of Romance, thevaguely drawn heroine of the picaresque s tories

,and Field

ing ’

s women objectively portrayed ; but it is hard to believethat a modern critic

,familiar with realistic heroines from

Eli zabeth Bennet , Ethel N ewcome, Maggie Tulliver , to the

American girls of his own creating, could see in Clarissa “no

more pose than she could confront herself with in the glas s .

”

Yet Mr . Howell ’s statement may contain a truth more truethan he intended , for it seems probable that the looking-glas sitself must reflect Clarissa the heroine, in stately pose, poised ,ready for her pedestal !

Such is the consensus of opinion as represented by notable

readers of the History of Clarissa up to the present time.

Before the ris ing generation accepts , however, the testimonyof leisurely critics of the pas t—for it is safe to assume thatbut a small number of presen t-day readers wi ll seek completefirst hand evidence on the character of Clarissa—let us tes t

Richardson ’s heroine by certain poss ible prototypes .

9 Birrill, R es Judicatae (N ew York, 1 892 ) p. 23.

9 Howells, Heroines in F ic tion , (N ew York, 1 901 ) I, 3.


”1 1 5

To my mind, Clarissa is heir to the triumphant grandeurof the heroines of Heroic Tragedy in the seventeenth century,and the noble self-immolation of Sentimental Comedy of the

early eighteenth . The delineation of her character is a p iece ofepic-heighten ing

,achieved in accordance with former models ,

but adapted to an eighteenth century purpose. We can trace

the kinship between Clarissa and the seventeenth century

heroines of Scudery and the French romancers , and the writers of English Heroic Tragedy—notably Dryden . Compare

the raptures over Clarissa ’s beauty, with the minute de

scriptions of the women of Granada”and the

“ Fair Semahris

”in Scudery ’

s Almahida, or the Captive Queen,1 0

and of

Chrysalia and Claricia in Clé lie by the same author . Alma

hida herself embodies many of Clarissa ’s most conspicuous

Virtues,

“a noble pride, ” and a des ire to be at her own

disposal to marry,

”a s trong sens e of paternal authority .

Semahris,another heroine of the same romance

, exhibits a

decorous reserve which is described by her bamed lover muchin the manner of Lovelace : “

She must be very dainty indeed(answered Almador , finding himself nipped to the quick )that can brook nothing but what pleases her fancy ; and

would deprive herself of all things that are delightful to freeherself from those things for which she has no kindness .

This is indeed a mark of niceness of the fair Semahris ’

humour .

”

In Clé lia, another Scudery romance, we have a heroine whois a striking prototype of Clarissa in many points of characterand s ituation . See, for ins tance, the condition resulting fromher reception of a letter from the lover opposed by her father :

‘This letter gave much j oy to Olelia, but wi thal it augumented

her persecution ; for Clelius [the father ] understanding it,told her she was infini tely culpable for receiving it, that therecould no longer be an innocent correspondence between her

and Aronces, s in ce himself prohibited it and that Rome hav

ing daily greater obligations to Horatius , it behoov ’d her to

look upon him as the man that was infallibly to marry her at

the end of the war . Clelia answered to this speech of her

10 Scudé ry, A lmahida , or the Captive Queen, translated by J Phillips, London, 1 677.

1 1 6 Hughes

father with her accustomed constancy ; and though she said

nothing in consistent with the respect she ow’d to such a rela

tion , yet withal she said nothing prejudicial to the fidelity

she promi sed to her lover. ” 1 1 Later she is endangered throughabduction by one Sextus , and immediately she betrays that

decisive preference for death to dishonor , which all heroicladies are given opportunity to display . After parting withher accepted lover, we see her in the attitude of a noble griet

°

characteristic of her kind 1 9 “N ever was seen so sad a person

as she on this occas ion ; but her melancholy was accompaniedwith so much discretion that it caus ed the greater compas sion .

And finally she speaks before the Roman Senate with so

resolute and generous an aspect,that all who beheld her ,

judged she deserved greater honor than the senate had de

creed her .

”Thus the exaltation of Clelia is accomplished by

universal commendation ,much as that of Clarissa is achieved

through universal lamentation .

In the heroines of Dryden ’s heroic tragedies also we find

elements similar to Clarissa ’

s character and situation . A

lofty contempt for unworthy love characterizes all these heroines , and growing out of it, an un tempered scorn for the un

worthy lover, and a glorious willingness to die in self-defense.

Almeyda in Don S ebastian says

My Virtue is a guard beyond my strength

And death,my las t defense, within my call .

I’ll venture landing on that happy shore,With an unsullied body and white mind .

If I have erred , some kind inhabitantWill pity a strayed soul to take me home.

” 1 9

Compare this with Clarissa ’s attitude in the dramatic pen

knife scene, which Lovelace recounts , beginning ‘ Stop

where thou art, 0 vilest and. most abandoned of men ! Stop

where thou art !’

She held forth a pen-kni fe in her

hand , the point to her own bosom, grasping resolutely the

“ S cudé ry, Clé lia. Translated, L ondon, 1 670, page 5 98 .

page 732.

Dryden, Poetic al Works , edited by Scott and Saintsbury, Edinburgh, 1 882 . I II :364.


1 1 8 Hughes

teenth century , and the realistic Laughing Comedy of the

later eighteenth , suggests the relation of R ichardson ’

s work

to the early romancers and to the novels of Fielding,Smollett,

Goldsmith , and the later realis ts . R ichardson, too, set his

scenes in the contemporary life he knew ; the majority of his

characters he chose from the middle class world about him ;but

, like the writers of Sentimental Comedy,his heroine,

Clarissa,he deliberately exalted above the res t . Her character

he drew from nobler models ; her mind and her s ituation

exhibit the Virtues of those older heroines ; her diction is of

the same elevated style ; her appearance and her actions com

mand a similar reverence ; and her death,anticipated with

a similar delight,redounds equally to her glory .

This exaltation of Clarissa ’s character I maintain was pre

meditated, consistent , and sustained to suit the author ’s

purpose. R ichardson himself.° tells us in his preface thatthe principal of these two young ladies is proposed to us as

an exemplar to her sex . In a footnote 1 7 he repeats this statemen t

,and the same idea is conspicuous in his correspondence.

The problem,then

,resolves itself into a question whether a

heroine can be drawn intentionally as a model of Virtue and

an example of supreme excellence, and yet be realistic . In

answer let us see in what manner she is portrayed in the

course of the narration . In her first letter Miss Howe de

scribes Clarissa as“A young lady whose distinguished merits

have made her the public care, as excelling all her sex ,

as one whom every eye is fix ed upon , “ with the expectation

of an example.

” Mrs . Howe is reported as saying ,“Miss

Clarissa Harlowe is an admirable young lady ; wherever she

goes she confers a favor ; whomever she leaves she fills with

regret . ” 1 9 Aunt Hervey addresses her reverently :“R ise, my

noble-minded n iece ! charming creature ! kneel not

to me.

” 1 9

Lovelace himself declares : No age from the first to the

present, ever produced , nor will the future to the end of the

world,I dare aver , ever produce a young blooming lady, tried

as she has been tried , who has stood all the trials as she has

1 7 Claris sa H arlowe IV, 430.

19 C’kzrissa Harlowe I, 44.

1 ° C larissa Harlowe I, 21 7 .


”1 1 9

done—let me tell you ,sir , that you never saw,

never knew,

never heard of such another woman as Miss Harlowe.

” 9 9 And

indeed we are most of us willing to ag ree heart ily with Lovelace, and in this agreement lies our common faith in the in

credibility of such a character. Rare, miraculous , isolatedby her Virtue, as her friends declare her to be ; j ustified inall her actions by her own revelations and the careful notes

of the author ; established as a fountain-head of wi sdom and

excellent discernment by the counsel she gives , the meditations she writes , and the sententious utterances that are

quoted from her ; she is still further exalted by her suffering,

and finally transfigured in the manner of her death . In

his correspondence, in a letter to Miss Highmore, R ichardsonadmits his deliberate intention of enhancing Clarissa ’

s merit

by means of her sufferi ng .

“You will be the less surprised, ma

dam,that these strict notions are mine, when you will recol

lect,that in the poor inefiectual History of Clarissa, the par

ents are made more cruel , more implacable, more punishable

in short,in order to inculcate this very doctrine that the wan t

of duty on one side enhances the merit on the other, when itis performed

,and you see how Clarissa shines in hers ; nor

loses sight of her gratitude and love, cruel as they were in the

nineteenth year of her life,for their kindness and favour to

her in the preceding eighteen ? 9 1 Surely here is no true intention of realistic portraiture. R ichardson is not drawing fromlife but from an ideal

,loath as he is to admit it.

Lovelace is in some respects a more complicated problemfor the author than Clarissa. As Sir L eslie Stephen poin tsout

, the difficulty lies in composing “a Villain who shall be

by nature a Devil and yet capable of imposing upon an

angel . ”R ichardson ’

s solution of this problem brought withit a result he neither expected nor desired . The keynote of

Lovelace ’s character is pride

,with all its ramifications of

vanity, self-love, love of power, disdain of oppos ition and con

trol ; on this fundamental trait is built the motives of his

complicated Villainy . But he is also endowed with a pleasing

person ,an amiable manner

,a specious humility mixed with

20 Clarissa Harlowe I I I , 441 .

91 Correspondence

1 20 Hughes

reckless daring, and an insinuating need of reform which not

only attracted the lady of his choice,but also won the hearts

of many fair readers , to the infinite chagrin of the author.Lady Bradshaigh writes to Richardson ,

“But you mus t know

(though I shall blush again ) that if I was to di e for it, I cannot help being fond of Lovelace. A sad dog ! Why woul d youmake him so wi cked and yet so agreeable ? He says somewhereor other he designs being a good man

,from which words I

have great hope ; and in excus e for my liking him,I must

say , I have made him so,up

-to my own heart ’s wish ; a

faul tless , faultless husband have I made him ,even without

danger of a relapse. A foolish rake may die one ; but a sen

sible rake must reform ,at leas t in the hands of a sensible

author it ought to be so and will, I hOpe.

2 9 To thi s R ichardson replies , “

And di d you not perceive that in the very first

letter of Lovelace, all those seeds of wi cked ness were thicksown which sprouted up into action afterwards in his charac

ter ? Pride, revenge, a love of intrigue, plot, contrivance ;and who is it that asks , Do men gather grapes of thorns or

figs of thistles ? On this consideration it has been a matter

of surprise and indeed of some concern , that this characterhas met with so much favour from the good and Virtuous ,even as it stands from his two or three first letters ; and in

some measure convinced me of the necess ity of such a catastrophe as I have made.

” 2 9

But Richardson need not have felt concern merely for

misplaced admi ration on the part of the good and virtuous , ”for about this time we find Colley Cibber writing to him in

a s imilar strain :“Lovelace ’

s letter, page 5 2, has thrown out

such lively strokes of his uncommon and yet natural charac

ter, such almos t j ustifiable sentiments of his intended treatment of Clarissa, that s carce a libertine reader will forbearto triumph with him over the too charming and provokingdelicacy of his Clarissa. I am in the same rapture with MissHowe ’

s reply to her narrator , page 60. I have not patience

to dwell on its particular parts that have seized upon myapprobation .

9 4

29 Correspondence, IV :1 80.

99 Correspondence, IV :107 .

9‘ Ibid., I I :1 67.


1 22 Hughes

unconcealed . Mrs . Harlowe is a weak, unhappy soul , to tally

subject to the tyranny of her gouty lord . Taine delightsin the brutality of what he cons iders typical Britishers and

writes wi th picturesque gusto of father and son :“Above

the outbursts of his voice we hear the loud wrath of his son,

a sort of plethoric , over-fed bull-dog , and Arabella he de

scribes as endowed with the venomous bitterness of an

offended , ugly woman .

Yet whether we of the present believe or disbelieve in the

naturalness which R ichards on ’s greatest admi rers have

claimed for his principal characters , we cannot but be impressed with the delight with which competent judges haveread this tragedy, seven volumes long in the original editionand even now presented to us in four of goodly s ize. A

writer of R ichardson ’

s own day Edwards by name, the

author of“Can ons of Criticism,

wrote to “the author of

Clarissa, —as R ichardson was generally known “I have

read,and as long as I have eyes will read

,all your three

most excellent pieces at leas t once a year. ”Lady Bradshaigh

made a s imilar promise naively as a bribe to the author to

save his heroine from the doom foretold . After the first four

volumes of the novel had appeared,she opened her corre

spondence with Richardson under an as sumed name, risking the invidious distinction of correspondence with an author

to plead against this tragedy which she felt was imminent ,con cluding with a posts cript : If you should think fit to

alter your scheme, I will promise to read your his tory over atleas t once in two years as long as I live ; and my last wordsare—be merciful . ” 9 7

Thus in its own day the book was popular both because of

its didactic purpose and in spite of it. The plot commanded

absorbing and anxious interest , the characters appealed in

tensely to personal sympathy and enthusiasm ,the incident

was as powerfully affecting as details out of real life. Whyis it that today the book has taken rank among those that

all should know about but few should read “.2 Is it that to

our tas te, the techn ique is too weak , or is its purpose too

strong ? Or is it rather , that the temper of our time prevents97 Corresponden ce, IV :1 77 .


”123

our giving the book that just and leisurely attention for

which it was designed ? If we could but divest ourselves of

our appetite for epitomized pleasure, of our habit of tense,impatien t endeavor

,our crude disdain of ful l

,unhurried

speech , we could perhaps judge with more righteous judgment such products of a more deliberate time, and find in

the elongated novel of the eighteenth century the delightthat Tennyson felt in “ those great, still books , fulfilling

more nearly Dr . John son ’s sanguine prophecy, that Clarissa

is not a performance to be read with eagerness and laid asideforever, but will be occas ionally consul ted by the busy, theaged, and the studious .

9 8

HELEN SARD HUGHES .

Wellesley College.

Correspondence, V :282.

1 24 Price

REVIEWS AND NOTES

J . DRESCH : Le Roman Social en Allemagne. 1 85 0-1900.

Gutzkow, Freytag , Spielhagen , Fontane. (Paris Fé lixAlcan 1 913) 389 pp .

M. Dres ch’

s work is not a series of monographs but a wellorgan ized work of the highest unity. The wri ter addresseshimself primarily to his countrymen

,seeking to make the

four authors better understood by the French public at large.

This is shown by the fact that the numerous and long quotations from the novelists treated invariably appear in the textin Fren ch trans lations .

The critic ’

s impelling interests were social and politicalquite as much as literary . He defines with the utmost precision how Gutzkow,

Freytag, Spielhagen and Fontane lookedupon the revolution of 1 848 and upon the war of 1 870 withthe events that preceded and followed it. He specifies the

Views oi. all four in regard to German unity,Prussian hege

mony , to the“Junker” , the middle class and the fourth

estate, and gives a well-founded estimate of the reliabilityof all as historical witnesses . If followed with due cautionM. Dresch

’s work will prove an invaluable guide to the

novels of Gutzkow,Freytag ,

Spielhagen and Fontane for itinterprets their novels in the light of their entire publishedworks

,their private letters and memoirs

,their critical writ

ings in regard to previous and contemporary literary modelsand regarding each other. The criticisms of the last namedorder are among the mos t instructive.

M. Dresch does not believe that “Tendenz can be ex

cluded from novels or from criticism and makes for himselfno hypocritical claims to impartiality . In order rightly tomake use of this excellent work it is important to as certainjust wherein this self-confessed “

Tendenz ” lies .

M. Breech ’

s personal bias exhibits itself most clearly inhis treatment of Freytag . It must be admitted that inmethod and style his personal portrait of Freytag is a mas ter

piece not inferior to the work of a Thackeray . With ostensible impassionateness , with cool synthes is he combines out of

Freytag ’s own words a startling confess ion of narrowness of

mind,of prejudice and of self-satisfaction . He concedes at the

outset that Freytag has an ideal and a patriotic one. Freytag wrote to Treitschke in 1 863 : “We are of those who livea little for thems elves , a little for their friends and chieflyfor their people.

” 1 It was Freytag ’

s desire to contribute to1 Gus tav F reytag u . H . v. Treits chke im Briefwechsel S . 5 .


1 26 Price

M. Dres ch appraises low the value of Freytag ’

s novels as

historical documents . Freytag does not even present,he says ,

a complete picture of the middle class . The chief j oy of the

middle class , domestic happiness , is absent . Futhermore hi spicture is one-sided in that it concedes none of the foibles of

the middle clas s . Stout citizen though he was , Hans Sachsknew the weaknesses of his class

,its narrowness , self-satis

faction and self-interest . These qualities escaped Freytag ’s

notice completely. M. Dres ch chiefly discredits Freytag ’s

pictures of contemporary society, however, becaus e the la

boring class is omi tted from them . Freytag asserted, it iswell known , that the novel should be without “

Tendenz ”.

His idea of Tendenz ” apparently was dissatisfaction withthe present , ag itation for reforms in the future. To excludefrom his novels the fermentation of unres t he excludedthe laboring class and emphas ized the agreeable side of the

social organization of the recent past , in which the middl eclas s had come to its heritage. M. Dresch asks pointedlywhether this is absence of

“Tendenz .

M. Dresch’

s s trictures upon Freytag are by no means new.

Kummer in his Deutsche Literaturgeschichte d. 1 9 . Jahr

hunderts mentions most of the points referred to by M.

Dresch . The Frenchman ’s characterization is

,however, the

mos t realistic and convincing that has yet appeared and it

will certainly leave its impress upon literary his tory . But

however correct it may be in its essentials it is certainly Opento criticism in some respects .

In the first place it is not correct to assume that Freytagbeli eved that he had attained at least in Soll und Haben his

ideal of freedom from “Tendenz ” . In a letter written to

Geffken on the twenty-third of August 1 85 6 he confesses :“Wenn das Publikum wohlwollend iiber die Unterhaltungsfahigkeit des Buches urteilt , so ist mir das schon recht , aberim Grunde lag mir wahrend der Arbeit am meisten an der

Tendenz und zwar an der politis chen . Das mag fiir dieseund kiinftige Kunstleistungen ein fibelstand sein ,

aber gernwill ich auf den Dichterruhm Verzichten ,

welcher nur durcheine vollstandige Freiheit gegeniiber den Ers cheinungen des

wirklichen Lebens erworben werden kann . fiberall fiihle ichmich in einem stillen Eifer , den ich am liebsten einen preuszischen nennen miichte.

” 4

Then M. Dres ch disregards too much the transitions inFreytag ’

s development . Such a method necessarily leadsto un sympathetic treatment . He minimizes Freytag ’

s Young‘ Z eitschrift fur Vergleichende L iteraturgeschichte. N eue F olge Bd.

1 3 ( 1 889 ) S . 88-91 . 0

Reviews and N otes 1 27

German tendencies before the year 1848 . This paves the wayfor a total disregard of the influence of the Grenzboten on

the new Freytag oi. the post-revolutionary period . Cri ticshave often seen in Fink in S oll und Haben the type of a

Young German becoming “solid” 9

and have found in himmuch of Freytag hims elf. Strange that no critic has yet

seen traits of Julian Schmidt in Fink ’s matter of fact

co-worker, Anton . The two characters mutually influenced

each other in much the same way as the two Grenzboteneditors . The fact that the occupation of the father of bothAnton and Julian Schmidt was s imilar may be more than a

coincidence.

6 By giving more attention to the personal influences upon Freytag M. Dresch might have presented himin a less unfavorable light .In the third place M. Dresch emphasizes too much Frey

tag ’s spirit of social caste as the reason for his exclusion of

the laboring class from his novel . Freytag did not lack sympathy with the laboring class es M. Dresch himself concedesthis at one point though he denies it els ewhere.

7 The realreas on ,

he says , man ifests itself systematically in all his

works .

“ Freytag s’est refusé a introduire la démocratie

dans son roman parcequ’

il trouvait en elle trop de laideurset trop de confus es aspirations ”

.

8 “Il ne veut pas tourner

son attention vers un avenir incertain ; il tient a s’arré ter

au passé immédiat C ’es t une activité ‘ reposé e ’ qu ’il

s’attache aretracer, et non pas les débuts d ’

un industrialisme

qu ’il sent dé jafiévreux .

” 9 On the contrary the real reas onfor Freytag ’

s omi ss ion of the fourth estate is one which M.

Dresch here minimizes . Freytag followed, namely, the safeprinciple of writing from actual experi en ce, not from superficial observation . He had had personal contact with the

9 Robert Prutz first characterized F ink as a solid gewordener Saalfeld

”( see Prutz, Die deutsche L iteratur der Gegewwart, 1 8 5 9 S . 106.

Saalfeld was the hero of F reytag’s early play D ie Valentine. Prutz

was perhaps the first to recognize F reytag’s close afiin ity with theYoung German movement. See an article by him in the Deuts ches

Museum, 1 8 5 8 II, pp. 441 -45 8. In fairness of j udgment and aptnessof characterization this article has not been surpassed by later eriticisms . Gustav F reytag’

s Young German tendencies have recently beensystematically treated by O. Mayrhofer, Gus tav F reytag und das Junge

Deuts chland. Marburger Dissertation 1 907 .

9 Anton’s father (see F reytag’

s Gesammelte Werke IV S . 5 ) waskoniglicher Calculator ”

and Julian S chmidt’s father (see A llgemeine

deu tsche B iographie XXXI p. 7 5 1 ) occupied a similar position. The

relation of Julian Schmidt to Anton is treated at some length in an

investigation of mine soon to be published .

7 Dresch p. 1 10 and p. 1 64.

“Dresch p. 1 1 2 .

9 Dresch p. 108 .

1 28 Price

circles of society represented in Soll und Haben and Dieverlorene Handschrift. He had associated wi th merchants ,aristocrats , peasant proprietors and univers ity professors .

The laboring class , however, he did not thoroughly understand . To draw a picture of the laboring class without intimate knowledge thereof, to emphasize the elements of discontent without having a definite and practical program of

betterment was to Freytag a profitless procedure. Gutzkowhad

, to his mind, already proved this . Such opinions as theseare definitely expressed by Freytag in an article which hecontributed to the Grenzboten in Appearing thus at

the time when Freytag was beginning his Soll und Haben thearticle may be jus tly regarded as the advance program of hisnovel . It was not included in his Vermischte Aufsatze

in his Gesammelte Aufsa'

tze (1888 ) nor in his Ge

sammelte Werke (1 886-1 888 ) and probably for this reasonhas escaped the attention of M. Dresch as well as of Freytag ’

s previous critics and biographers . In this article Freytag declares that not the dilletante hero but the man at workshould be the subject of the German novel ; German lifeas it is is full of interesting and romantic realities . Tradeand indus try he suggests as proper backgrounds for the

German novel . These opportun ities have been neglected bythe novelists hitherto and he asks why.

“Die An twort darauf

ist leider, weil unsere Romans chriftsteller in der Mehrzahlsehr wenig, j a zuweilen so gut wie gar n ichts von dem Treibender Gegenwart verstehen .

” 1 1Freytag commends them to the

course of J. Gotthelf and above all of Walter Scott. Firs tlet them in timately know their social subject matter, then letthem dis cuss it.

There is no better illus tration of Freytag ’s early democrati c

tendencies than his fragment of 1 884, Der Gelehrte.

1 2 In thiswork the title hero , who is in many respects Freytag himself,refuses a political career in the conservative ministryand refus es the editorship of a liberal paper, believing thatneither party has solved the social problem. He determines .

to en ter the ranks of the labori ng class and learn from his

Grenzboten 1 85 3 I, 77-80. It was , however, recognized by F reytagas his own. See Vermis chte Aufsa

'

tze II, S . 432.

Grenzboten 1 8 5 3 I, S . 78 . We hear furthermore in these worksan echo of Julian Schmidt’

s Grenzboten criticism. Through the pagesof this j ournal between the years 1 848 and 1 8 5 3 we find the constantrecommendation that the dilletante hero of the Wilhelm Meister typebe supplante d by the hero of the life-long realistic occupation as in

the English novel. This is what F reytag has attempted in Bell and

Haben and we may say that it is the chief respect in which F reytagis more modern than Gutzkow.

19 G’esa7mnelte Werke Bd. II. S . 1 32.


1 30 Price

was no less pronounced . Freytag put his trus t in the dominance of the mi ddle class . Gutzkow stood for a levelingmovement , which should do away with al l clas s di stin ctions .

The s tate should exis t in order to protect labor. M. Dreschregards Die R itter vom Geist as a social rather than a

political work . In this novel Gutzkow represents the failureof statesmen of diverse parties but finds the hope of the

future in a voluntary association of public-spirited men whoagree to cast as ide social difierences and thus set an exampleof how the citizen may work for the public good .

“Der Zauberer von Rom”

was born out of Gutzkow’s hope

for a Germany united religiously as well as politically, out ofhis hOpe, indeed , for a world-unity of religion . In religiousdogma he found no hindrance to this hope. He believed ifthe papacy could be deprived of its temporal domin ions thisideal could be realized. His tory has proved Gutzkow to be

in the wrong but M. Dres ch says : “La porté e sociale n

’en

est point par la diminué e. Pour etre le romancier de son

temps,il faut en traduire aussi les pensé es chimériques .

” 1 4

One cannot but approve of this tolerant criticism,but why

should not the author have made a similar concession to the

prejudices of Freytag in his Soll und Haben .

M. Dresch accepts Gutzkow ’s novel Die neuen S erapious

brilder (1 877 ) as a true picture of the general feeling of

unrest,insecurity and discontent that prevailed in Germany

after the war of 70-71 with France. In this work Gutzkowman ifests his disgust at the hollow,

materi al istic results ob

tained by the war .

M. Dresch lays emphas is rather upon the differences thanupon the s imi lari ties between Gutzkow and his French models .

If he adopted the intricate mechanism of mystery of EugeneSue, it was in order to carry the interest of the readerthrough long political discuss ions . He believed with Balzacin the important r61e that materialistic considerations play inlife, yet he often attributed benevolent motives to his characters . A higher sense of unity led him to compose a

“Roman

des N ebeneinanders” rather than a

“Come

’

die humai ne.

”

Wilhelm Meister was the novel that Gutzkow real ly took as

his model . The combination of eighteenth century ideal ismwith nineteenth century social interes t in al l classes appealedto him. The slow cumbersome movement, the humanitarianand didactic intent are common to both novels . In bothsymbolic and typical characters exist s ide by s ide with realistic ones . M. Dresch interprets a leading character, Hackert

in the“Ritter vom Geist , ” as a symbol of democracy,1 5 and

Dresch p. 66 .

1 9 Dresch p. 42.


thus takes issue apparently unconsciously with JulianSchmidt , whose matter of fact mind protested against such an

interpretation in a realistic work,1 9 and who declared thatthe moral code of Hackert was in no sense representative of

the time.

1 7

It is to be regretted that M. Dres ch did not join issuedirectly with some of the earlier critics in regard to Gutzkow ’

s historical reliability. He admits that public charactersand events are slightly distorted . This was due to the political condition of the time. Serious treatment of contemporarysocial and political affairs was forbidden ,

hence these sub

terfuges on Gutkow’

s part . Except for this inconsiderablereservation M. Dresch

’s claims in regard to Gutzkow are

extreme. He characterizes Gutzkow as a peintre exact et

fidele des choses de son temps .

” 1 9 A new and more favorableestimate of Gutzkow,

is it is true, gaining ground but evenso generally favorable a critic as R . M. Meyer finds it hardto believe that Gutzkow ’

s novels present a true picture 1 9

while Gutzkow ’s contemporary, Julian Schmidt said :

“Dasz

Gutzkow ein Portrait der Zeit , wie s eine Verehrer behaupten ,

n icht geliefert hat, wird der Unbefangene wohl von selbsterkennen .

” 20 The general tendency on the part of recentcri tics to do jus tice to the lost political cause of Young Germany is to be commended, but it would be disastrous if itshould lead them to overestimate the historical reliability of

the Young German novels .

M. Dresch’s treatment of Freytag and of Gutzkow serves

to show with what reservations his opinions need be accepted .

It should be added that his judgments in regard to Spielhag enand Fontane have been less affected by social bias . It is easyfor M. Dresch to be fair to both

,for both sympathised with

the s trivings of the fourth estate, and both were aristocraticin their tastes , even though Spielhagen often attacked the

nobility bitterly. M. Dresch finds a high merit in Spielhagen ’

s attempt to reconcile naturalism and class icism, theo

retically in his N eue Beitr '

a'

ge zur Theonrie und Technik derEpik und Dramatik”

and practically in his las t novels . He

rejoices that Spielhagen ’s novels are regaining some of the

popularity lost in the las t decade of the nineteen th century .

19 J . Schmidt Ges chichte der deuts chen L iteratur 2te Auflage Bd.

I, S . 91 .

” J. Schmidt Ges chichte der deutschen L iteratur 2te Auflage Bd .

I I I S . 301 .

Dresch p. 20.

Meyer Deuts che L item tur ion 1 9 . Jht. III Aufl . S . 227.

90 Schmidt Geschichte der deutschen L iteratur. 2te. Aufl. Bd . I I I .S . 31 1 .

1 32 Price

He regards Spielhagen’

s novels as valuable contributions toour knowledge of the times des cribed, but agrees withSeb ian 9 1

and with Bleibtreu 2 2 that Gutzkow described moreexactly the conditions and events of his period .

Fontane wins the favor of M. Dres ch completely by the

novels of his las t years , wherein he holds up to View the nar

rowness of mind, the coldness , the purely formal morality of

the self-satisfied mi ddle class , thus emphas izing the' featuresthat Freytag had neglected in his picture and performing thefun ction of a German Flaubert or Balzac . Fontane began

'

to

form his impress ions of the Berlin middl e-class citizen in

1 866,while serving as an apprentice to a pharmacist . He

was able to declare in 1 898 that the average present day citizen poss essed less false virtue and more real virtue than the

citizen oi. s ixty years ago .

2 3

Perhaps it is due to a sympathy born of the kinship of racethat M. Dresch

’

s accoun t of Fontane is the product of moreenthus iasm and more industry than his account of Spielhagen .

To reconcile Spielhagen’s novelistic theory with his practice

is not a task demanding originality. Spielhagen himself hasdone that thoroughly and will long remain the chief of

Spielhag en authorities . Fon tane ’

s theory must,however, be

carefully collated out of personal correspondence, daily dramatic criticism, reported conversations and memoirs . F or

performing this task M. Dresch will deserve the gratitude of

later critics of Fontane. He has also accounted for the literary developmen t of Fontane

,explaining his trans itions from

revolutionary lyrics to old Pruss ian ballads,from travel

correspondence to history, from the historical novel to the

con temporary social novel in such a way as to make F ontane ’

s literary career seem logical and consistent .In some ins tances M. Dresch

’

s judgments in regard to F ontane reveal his partiality a little too strongly. He cannotavoid the question ,

why Fontane with all his interest in the

fourth es tate never caused it to play a part in his novels .

The answer he gives is :“Son age avancé ne lui permettait

guere d ’

aller é tudier de pres la vie de l’ouvrier .

” 9 4 In otherwords Fon tane did not describe the fourth estate because hedid not know it intimately. The explanation is s imple and

fair, but why could not it have been made in behalf of Freytagas well ?M. Dresch

’s nationalistic bias appears most s trikingly in

91 Schian Der Deuts che R oman seit Goethe. S . 86 .

Bleibtreu R evolu tion der L iteratu r. (Leipzig 1 886 ) S . 28.

23 Von Zwanzig bis Dreiszig, S . 1 2.

9‘ Dresch p. 360.


134 Obernitz

bourgeois et protestant . Spielhagen la marque plus largement , mais d

’

une facon abs traite. Fontane la voit psychologiquement, intimement, mais fragmentairement. ” 99 It

would have required a Shakespeare to represent this era in

its totali ty,M. Dres ch says , and Germany has had no such

Shakespeare. None of the four novelists could even be compared with Balzac or with Tolstoi . 2 9M. Dresch

’

s work is full of such enlightening comparisonsas those just quoted . It presents in a systematic form a

modern and thoroughly independent es timate of the authors .

His judgments in regard to Spielhagen and Fontane are as

securely grounded and as nearly non-partisan as any thathad hitherto appeared .

29 All four portions are based on the

intens ity of study required for a monograph , but monographic partiality is noticeable only in the case of (lutzkow,

90

and if the critic ’s judgment of Freytag is too severe to be

final it is too well supported to be disregarded .

L . M. PRICE .

Uni versity of Missouri .

GUNTHER JACOBY : HERDER ALS FAUST—FelixMeiner . Leipzig

“ Herder als Faust . Es liegt ein zum Widerspruchs auf

reizendes Moment in diesem Titel . Man hat das Gefiihl,als

gelte es ein Attentat aui°

Goethes Gen ius . Ich gestehe,das

Buch zur Hand genommen zu haben, erfullt von solchem

Geis te des Widerspruchs . Allein ich gestehe auch,es aus

der Hand gelegt zu haben im Gefiihle, dass es mir moglichgewesen ist, den Verfas ser auf jedem seiner Schritte ver

standnissvoll zu begleiten , wenn ich mich auch nicht in der

Lage finde,von ihm hins ichtlich des wesentlichsten Punktes

rii ckhal ts los iiberzeugt worden zu sein . Dieser wesentlichstePunkt ist die Behauptung, das s die Faus tges talt vom AJ1

fange des ersten Teils der Trag iidie bis zur Schwelle von

Auerbachs Keller die Gestalt Herders ist, wie sic sich in

Goethes Phantas ie projizierte. Ist diese Behauptung tatsach28 Dresch p. 387 .

99 Almost simultaneously with M. Dresch’s work appeared the mono

graph of Dr. Victor Klemperer D ie Z eitromane F riedrich Spielhagensund ihre Wurzeln 1 79 Seiten (Weimar 1 91 3) in F orschungen z/ur neueren

L iteraturgeschiehte, no . XL I I I . This will supplement the F rench workwith its different points of view and difi'

erent comparisons . The workis as scholarly and perhaps more unbias ed than M. Dresch

’s work but

its intricate style will cause it to be less used.

9°M. Dresch is also the author of a monograph Gu tzkow et la j euneA llemagne Paris Cornely et Cie .


lich so ungeheuerlich,wie sie im ers ten Augenblicke ers cheint ?

Man vergegenwartige sich die Lage. Als Goethe den Keimzur Faustdichtung empfing , ist ihm, wie wir annehmen diirfen

,unzweifelhaft gewesen ,

dass es sich bei seinen Gestaltennicht um den Faust des 1 6ten Jahrhunderts , sondern um cinelibertrag ung di es er Pers iinlichkeit in die Ideenkreise des

1 8ten S iikulums handelte, um einen Mann,der alles Wissen

seiner Zeit in s ich aufgenommen hatte und , iiberzeugt von

der Eitelkeit solchen Wissens , mit gliihender Seele thachBetatigung im praktischen Leben s ich sehnte, der hi naus

strebte aus der driickenden Enge der Gelehrtenstube in den

wogenden Strom der Welt . Konnte der Jiingling Goethe, obauch ausgeriistet mit hiichster Genialitat der Intuition ,

in

sich die Erfahrungen gesammelt haben ,welche ihn zur Ge

staltung einer solchen Perstinlichkeit befahigten ? Wir werden diese Frags getrost mit “

nein ” beantworten konnen . Ge

rade aber im Augenblicke, da er seiner am dringendsten bedurfte

,fiihrte ihm das Schicksal einen Mann zu,

der in wun

dersamster Weise die Bedingungen in s ich verein igte,deren

Kenntniss allein Goethe zur Schtipfung seiner Faustges taltin den Stand setzte. In klarer Weise hat es Jacoby, s ichstets an Aus serungen Herders haltend , vers tanden ,

des

Mannes Seelenzustand in der Zeit unmittelbar vor seinerBeriihrung mit Goethe und wahrend der Dauer ihres innigsten Freundschaftsbundes zu zeichnen . Ebenso erschiipfend

sind des Verfassers Darlegungen tiber Herder in GoethesUrteil . Es ist riihrend zu beobachten

,mit welcher hinge

benden Verehrung der in Wahrheit so viel Grtissere emporblickt zu einer Persiinlichkeit, welche er als eine sein eigenesSelbst gegenwartig weit iiberragende zu erkennen meint , undwelche dereinst zu erreichen ,

ihm als hiichstes Ziel seinesLebens vorschwebt .Das sind die grundlegenden Tatsachen , auf welchen der

Verfass er das Gebaude seiner Beweisfiihrung errichtet. Sowarm Jacoby auch fiir seine These eintritt

,dass s ich in Fausts

Sehnen und Erleben das Sehnen und Erleben Herders,des

Mannes ganzes Sein und Wesen,wenn auch in erhiihter ver

klarter Form, wiederspiegle : so hat er es doch bei di eser Beweisfiihrung nirgends an dem fiir jede wissenschaftliche Ar

beit notwendi gen Mas s e yon Obj ektivitat fehlen lassen . Freilich s ind wir n icht in der Lage, alle seine Arguments Widerspruchslos hinzunehmen . Er sucht bei jedem Satze, j amitunterbei jedem Worte der in Frags stehenden Szenen (Prolog imHimmel , Anfang des ersten Teiles bis einschlies slich der Schiilerszene und Glaubensbekenntniss ) di e unmittelbar bildendenEinfliisse des Herderschen Geistes nachzuweisen und geht hier

1 36 Obernitz

bei wie alle jene, welche ein neue Idee vertreten , zu weit, indemsr im Bes treben alles zu geben , mehr gibt als al les . Hier wirddie Kritik im einzelnen sichtend eingreifen miissen

, ohne indessen , wie ich meine, den Gesammteindruck wesentlich ver

wandeln zu kiinnen ,den E indru ck namlich

,dass di e in Frage

s tehenden Abschnitte von Goethes Dichtung n icht nur erfiillt

und durchtrankt s ind mit Herderschem Geiste, sondern dasss ich di eser Geist in fes tumrissener Form in Einzelziigen der

Faus tgestalt n iedergeschlagen hat. Was Jacobys Darlegungen eine solche Beweiskraft verleiht

,ist der Umstand

,dass sie

fast aus schliesslich in pers6nlichen Ausserun gen Herders bestehen . Es ist selbstverstandlich , das s sich ’

s bei diesen Ausserungen Herders nur um solche handeln darf

,welche der

Zeit des innigen F reundschaftsverkehrs mit Goethe oder derkurz vorangegangenen Epoche im L eben des grossen Ost

preussen angehtiren . Dieser notwendigerweise zu forderndenBeschrankung in der Auswahl seines Beweisstoftes hat s ichder Verfas ser willig unterworfen . Beruft sr sich dennocheinmal auf ein Wort aus spateren Tagen , so sucht sr gewissenhaft nachzuweisen , das s es im Keime auf friihere Zeiten zu

rii ckweist. E inzelheiten der ungemein eingehenden Beweisfiihrung mussen hier uneriirtert bleiben . Es sei aber gestattet, auf einige Punkte hinzuweisen ,

welche,ob auch iiber das

im Titel angegebene Thema des Werkes hinausreichend , meinesErachtens mindestens eine gleich hohe Bedeutung beanspruchen diirfen ,

denn Jacobys Buch gehtirt zu jenen seltenenGaben

,welche mehr bieten als sie verheissen . Der Titel

lautet nur “ Herder als Faust” . Wir empfangen aber ein

geschlossenes Gesammtbild von Herders Pers iinlichkeit wahrend des uns hier interessierenden L ebenabschnittes , ein Bild ,das wir—darin beruht sein bedeutender Wert und sein hoherReiz—als Selbstbildni s des so ungewiihnlich vielseitigen ,

wundersam anregenden und in weiteren Kreisen immer nochunterschatzten , j a nahezu unbekannten Ostpreussen be

trachten diirfen . Denn was wir von ihm erfahren ,erfahren wir

in seinen eigenen Worten . Wir lernen ihn kennen in seinemganzen F iihlen ,

Sinnen und Sehnen ,in dem oft rhapsodischen

Schwange seiner Prosa und der mi tunter stammelnden Hilflosigkeit seiner Verse.

Noch mehr aber bietet Jacobys Buch . Wenn uns die

breiten Kanale gezeigt werden ,durch welche Gedanken Herd

ers in das Gebiet des Faust heriibergeleitet wurden ,so sr

kennen wir pliitzlich in diesem Gebiete Briicken und Zu

sammenhange an Stellen ,die uns sonst abgeriss en und rat

selhaft erschienen s ind . So bietet Jacobys Argumentationselbs t fiir denjenigen

, der nicht gewillt ist,alle ihr entnom


1 38 Obernitz

allen beigebrachten Beweistofi als stichhaltig anerkennenkann . Ich erwahnte auch das Gefiihl der Opposition

,welches

der Verfass er durch seinen Titel in des Lesers Gemiite ent

fesselt . Beim ers ten Punkte handelt s ich ’s um ein blosses

Zuviel , hinsichtlich des zweiten meine ich , das s Jacoby nichtin geniigender Weise fiir die Zers treuung dieses Widerspruchsgesorgt hat, indem er es verabsaumte

,seine Stellung zum

Problem des kiinstlerischen insonderheit des di chterischenSchaffens darzulegen . Er hielt dies wohl fiir iiberfliissig ,weil im Grunde n icht zur Sache gehiirig . Denn es ist ihmnatiirlich wie jedem ,

der s ich mi t den Gesetzen des mens chlichen Schaffens beschaftigt hat, hinlanglich bekannt, dassse bei unserer Sch iipfertatigkeit weniger auf die Gewinnungneuer Gedanken als aut

°

die N euges taltung vorhandenenMateri als ankommt . E ine Dichtung wie Goethes Faust kannfiir uns nicht das Mindeste von ihrem Werte einbiissen

,wenn

wir auch erkannt haben sollten,dass ihrer Hauptgestalt ein

bestimmtes Vorbild zu Grunde liegt und das s die Mehrzahlder in ihr enthal tenen Gedanken aus fremder Quelle in sie

geflossen ist ; dagegen diirfen wi r es als wirklichen Gewinnan Erkenntnis betrachten

,wenn wir diese Quellen kenn en

lernen . Das Streben nach Erfors chung solcher Quellen kannsehr wohl verbunden sein mit dem Gefiihle tiefer Ehrfurchtvor dem schaflfenden Gen ius . Dass dem Verfas ser letzterenicht fremd ist, beweisen mir die warm empfundenen Schlussworte seines Buches . Ja

,ich meine sogar

,die ganze Unter

suchung war geeignet , diese Ehrfurcht nur um so tiefer indas Herz des Forschenden zu pfianzen . Denn wenn sr auf

Schritt und Tri'

tt erkannte, wie ein Gedanke, bei Herderoft in unklare Form und unbeholfenen Ausdruck gepr '

eigt, in

Goethes Dichtung durch Hoheit und Sch iinheit Ewigkeitswertgewinn t , so musste er von aufrichtigster Bewunderung fiirdas Mysterium des dichterischen Schaffens erfiillt werden . Ob

diese Umpragung Herders cher Gedanken in Goethes Seelesich bewusst oder unbewusst vollzogen hat, ob der j iingereFreund dem

°

alteren Genossen mit voller Abs ichtlichkeit inseinem Werke ein Denkmal errichtet habe ; diese Frage lasstder Verfasser in der Schwebe. Ich selbst mochte nach meinerKenntniss der kiinstlerischen Psyche mit griisster Ent

schiedenheit behaupten ,ein solcher Vorgang kanne nur un

bewuss t erfolgt sein . Wie man aber dieser Frag s gegenubers ich stellen mag , man darf Jacobys Buch wenn man es in

diesem Sinne liest , als wertvollen Beitrag zur Psychologie desDichters betrachten .

Natiirlich liegt dem Verfasser die Annahme fern ,als hand

le sich ’s bei dem von Herder auf Goethe iibertragenen. Ge

Reviews and N otes 139

dankenmaterial um des ers teren Originalbesitz. An vielenStellen sucht sr selbs t die Quellen fes tzustellen ,

aus denenbestimmte Ideen zu Herder geflossen sind . Er meint alsonur

,dass gewisse Gedankenkomplexe, die an sich schon Erb

gut der Menscheit waren ,auf Goethe in spezifisch Herder

scher Formung iibertragen worden sind . Diese Meinun g desAutors erhellt daraus , dass er auch ausserhalb der Faustgestalt in der Faustdichtung allerorten Herders ches Gut

wahrzunehmen meint . So erkennt er in Mephisto, namentli ch in der Schiilerszene Herders che Ziige. Das beweisst,dass der Titel nicht in dem engen mathematis chen Sinneeiner Gleichung aufzufass en ist. Denn mag Jacoby in der

Gestalt Faust so viele Elements Herders chenWesens erblicken ,

dass er die Behauptung aufstellt : Herder ist Faus t , so hater doch niemal s seinen Satz umgekehrt in dem Sinne : Faustist Herder d .h . nur Herder . Er hat vielmehr, wie ich aus

einer Reihe von Ausserungen schliessen darf , niemals ver

gessen ,dass Faust auch Goethe und dass Faust auch Faust

ist. Es hat ihm sicher ni chts ferner gelegen als ein Attentatauf Goethes Gen ius . Freilich hatte das alles zur Vermeidungvon Missverstandnissen in Jacobys Buch breiter aus gefiihrt

werden sollen .

Solche Auss tellungen konnen aber die Bedeutung des

Werkes nicht beeintrachtigen . Die Dars tellung,mag sie auch .

noch so s ehr ins Kleine gehen,versinkt niemals in Klein

lichkeit. Sie ist getragen von wiss enschaftlichem Erns te und

dabei erfiillt von warmer Hingebung an die Sache. Man

fiihlt, das Buch wurde n icht nur mit dem Vers tande sondernauch mit dem Herzen geschrieben . Mag man sich des Verfas sers Behauptungen und Beweisen gegeniiberstellen wie

immer man wolle,man wird seine Arbeit als erwiinschte

Bereicherung unserer Goethe-und Herder L iteratur ansehenWILHELM V. OBERNITZ .

Berlin, Germany .

ELISE DOSENHEIMER,Friedri ch Hebbels Auffassung vom

Staat . H . Haessel Verlag , Leipzig, 1 912 .

Hebbel ’s con ception of the state is in essence Hegelian .

Unlike his great prototype, however, Hebbel does not pretendto give a systematic s tudy of the nature of the state and its

functions . He limits hims elf° to a purely metaphysical contemplation of the abs tract principles which

,he believes , under

lie state existence. To these he gives utterance in his dramas .

Nor are Hebbel ’s views the result pf a thorough study of gov

1 40 Goebel

ernment and history or even of a long and varied politicalexperience ; they represent merely an a priori conception , thehighest expression of his Weltans chauung. To a certain ex

tent,his motive is s imi lar to that of Hegel , who, in his phil

osophy of the state, attempted to solve what he conceived tobe a purely metaphys ical problem and to apply his resultsto actual conditions . In so far as Hebbel conceives of the

problem as a philos0phic one we shall endeavor to follow himinto the nebulous realms of abstraction where he cons tructedhis phantom. But when the application of his resul ts to

concrete phenomena comes into conflict with the actualitiesof political existence, we shall feel obliged to apply the morerigid tests of scientific political discussion .

Although the author of the present book acknowledges thatthe bas is of Hebbel ’s conception of the state represents nothingoriginal

,she believes that he has made a contribution by the

fact that he has applied to the idea of the s tate his metaphys ical Weltaufiassung , effecting thereby,

“a transposition

from the realm of the absolute to the limited,from the in

finite to the finite. Hebbel ’s metaphys ics rested upon a

pecul iar duality of individual and All,a relation which the

author regards as felicitously expressed in the relation of the

individual to the s tate, the state symbolically representingthe Weltall, the Weltgesetz, which is , of course, to mean the

ethical law. The state, therefore, as the representative of the

ethical law stands above both good and evil , for from its

very nature it must servethe highes t good . From this it follows that from the ethical point of view, the individual maynot attack the state without dissolving all the conditions of

his existence.

It seems strange that in spite of this theory of state-originthat Hebbel should conceive of the state as exis ting only con

temporaneous ly with man and as a res triction upon his in

dividuality . The state,accordingly , is an unfortunate neces

sity which suppresses all spontaneity and destroys the selfreliance of the individual . In fact Hebbel seems to look forward to a condition of society where the state will be totallynon-existent . But until the individual comes to a realizationof his relation to the universe and thereby ceas es to be an in

dividual , there can be no change in the status quo ; he mustbow to the universal— the Idea, as represented in the state.

This,the author maintains , is the fundamental thought of

Agnes Bernauer .

Agnes Bernauer is the tragedy of the conflict of the individual human right with the universal right of the state. The

former is typified by Agnes who, by the mere fact of her ex


1 42 Goebel

his parent state, but he has acquired a new relation to the

s tate of residence whi ch is purely objective. At the same timehe has absolutely no subjective rights . As cas es of this sortare rare exceptions

,one is j ustified in regarding Hebbel ’s

concept as fundamentally wrong both in principle and in

actuality.

An in teresting point in connection with the Hebbelian con

ception is the question of where the sovereignty in his statewould lie. On the bas is of his metaphysical ideas , Hebbelmanifes tly could not take adequate cons ideration of this mostimportan t element of state existence, but as far as one is ableto judge, he believed it to be vested in the highest executive,to wit , the king . Thus , Hebbel attributes to the ruler superhuman qualities and says that the ruler has les s right to bean individual than any other man . This View is an echo of

Hegel ’s glorification of the princely power which in turnsmacks somewhat of oriental despotism ,

or at best of the earlyn ineteenth century Prussian regime, where the king was re

garded as the fin al and absolute depository of the sovereignty .

This conception of the identity of king and sovereignty is thenatural result of any View which attempts to inject into the

theory of state-origins , the idea of a divine or superhuman interposition . To a certain degree this idea formed the bas isof the arguments in favor of the divine right of kings whichone is almost tempted to accuse Hebbel of favoring . Hopeless ly archaic , however , is the View which seeks to place thesovereign ty, both legal and political , in a single individual .Certainly Hebbel did not get this idea from Hegel , for evenhe was inclined to as cribe the ultimate sovereignty to the profanum vulgus .

This analys is of Hebbel ’s borrowed conception of the stateas the mani festation of the Idea, and the cons equent and necessary relation of pure objectivity of the individual to the s tate,will explain in some measure the other as pect of his conception

,namely, the position of dominance whi ch he accords the

state over the individual . In terms of his metaphysics , thesubjection of the individual to the Idea. As a general preposition

,no one would deny that within the generally accepted

meanings of the terms state and s tate-will , the individual musteventually bow to the more puissant will of the s tate, unlessfor some reason he is able to identify it wi th his own . The

his tory of the identification of s tate with individual humanwill is the history of the great progress ive movements of the

world. Hebbel , however, has no idea of the clearly definedconception of political science, and his “

system”defies analy

s is by scientific terminology .

R eviews and N otes 1 43

It has been indicated that Hebbel regarded the ruler as

vested with the ultimate sovereign ty of the state, and as suchas the most essential factor in state life. Just as the s tate

per se is the symbolic representation of the Idea, so ,in turn ,

the ruler is the symbolic manifestation of the highes t characteristics of the state. When Hebbel , therefore, speaks of statewill and the right of the state, he means the right and the wi llwhich emanate from the ruler himself , and not from the col

lectivity of human wills as one might infer. Ii, with Hegel,

the state-will was after all merely a man ifestation of the uni

versal will,which it postulated

,with Hebbel this View has been

necessarily perverted to the extent that it is the will of a

single individual , the will of the ruler. This will , says Heb

bel, is supreme, for it is the expression of state-will . The two

are identical . In so far as this View is expres sed in Agnes

Bernauer, it resolves itself into the ruthless owners hip of sub

j ects which prospered under Darius and the Great Khan a

great many years ago. It is not surpris ing to find this doctrine revived during the reactionary regime of a Metternich ,but to as sert that the individual who has the temerity to defythis will mus t inevitably go down in defeat before it, is an

absurdity which even the most submiss ive political philosopherwill hesitate to accept .The result of this combat of individual wills , Hebbel ’s protests to the contrary, must depend upon the dispos ition of the

collectivity of human wills in whom the ultimate sovereigntyreally lies . Is the ruler in a position to depend on this wi ll ,then th e individual will go down in defeat , not before his will ,to be sure

,but before the real will of the state. But to the

individual is reserved the same privilege of winning the support of the general will . In such a contingency, it is he whois triumphant .It is apparent from this discuss ion of Hebbel ’s conception

of the state, that whatever bas is Agnes Bernauer had in political philosophy existed only in the imagination of the authoror at bes t upon a mis taken conception of individual and of

state. The real dramati c significance of these metaphysicalabstractions is not difficult to find. True, the drama has

turned out to be nothing more than a combat of individualwills , but the ethical law which still is undisposed of, strippedof its symbolic express ion , looms up as a nineteenth centuryvarian t of the old Greek fatum

,complete in its inexorable

force like an all-consuming leviathan . And this was the

character which Hebbel wished to as cribe to the s tate,not the

fourteenth century creation of the drama, but the nineteenthcentury state which it was supposed to typify ! L ittle wonder

44 Goebel

that this magnum opus was so coldly repudiated by the German people. If Hebbel in truth believed that he was reflect

ing in this drama the political tendencies of his time he wasgreatly deluding himself , showing at the same time a totalmisunderstanding of and lack of sympathy for the existingconditions . It is , however, possible that Hebbel may havebeen impelled to some extent by the change in his politicalafliliations which took place about this time. This leads us

to the discussion of Hebbel ’s practical political activity ,

The efforts of the author to find for Hebbel a n iche in the

political Hall of Fame are unfortunately misdirected. Heb

bel ’s position in the political life of his time was an insignificant as his position in the realm of political philosophy .

Granted that his poetics were “eminently political ”

,they

were scarcely of any great influence in shaping public opinion .

As ide from this modest contribution to the struggles of the

later forties and early fifties , Hebbel’

s share in the

revolutionary movement seems to have been confined to

reading the newspapers and being defeated for electionto the Frankfort Parliament , a participation which was

hardly of any great national significance. In fact,Heb

bel ’s whole attitude toward both the great national politicaland social movemen ts of the time were characterized by a fainthearted opportunism which contras ted greatly with his earlierpopulistic views . And so

,it is difficult to find much to say in

defense or even by way of comment on Hebbel ’s transfer ofallegiance from Austria to Prus s ia. In the words of Treit

schke it was “ indicative of his political helplessness ”. Heb

bel ’s tortuous and wavering course was certainly influencedby something more than the mere pleasure of exercising histalent as a political prOphetas ter . It will be remembered thatabout the time of his change in political afiection , Hebbel

’s

literary star was on the wane in Austria, and he had everything to gain by turning to Germany and to Pruss ia in par

ticular . To us it is merely anoth er instan ce of the poet ’s lack

of political feeling which the author ins ists he possessed ingreat measure. This she tries to prove at the expense of

the great Schiller . The superficial and patronizing way inwhich she remarks on Schiller ’

s political thinking makes one

wonder to what extent the author is acquainted with this illustrious predecessor of Hebbel . F or every one familiar withthe Aesthetisehe Briefe of Schiller would take issue with theauthor when she characterizes this poet as “

skeptic and pusillanimous

”in his political attitude. The s ingularly lucid and

enthus iastic expos ition in these letters of the functions of the

state and its relation to the individual are not soon to be for


146 Lawrence

eur and sonority,particularly in the speeches of the fal len

angel . One who wishes to get an idea of the so-called Caedmonic poetry at its best can hardly do better than to readthis portion of Genesis, comparing it with the paraphras eof E x odus, stiff with gorgeous and artificial adornment .The little volume edited by Professor Klaeber presents ,

in convenien t and inexpensive form , the whole of Genesis B ,

with the Old Saxon fragments by way of comparison,in the

appropri ate place, and 85 2-964 of Genesis A . There are als o

short extracts from the Heliand (1030-1049 ; 35 88

from Christ and Satan (410-421 ; 470 from Guthlac

(791 -843 ; 949 from Phwuix (393-423 ; 437 fromChrist (1379-141 8 ) and Juliana (494 The most signifi

cant passages relating to the Fall of Man are thus brought together within small compass . Variant readings and othertextual information may be found at the foot of the page

,

and there are also brief annotations at the back of the book .

The glossary covers only the Anglo-Saxon selections , and

does not register,except in a few cases , the line-numbers of

the words . There is a brief but well-selected bibliography,embodying the latest researches . As the edi tor says in his

prefatory note“the apparatus has purposely been kept

within narrow limits . The general treatment is much the

same as in Morsbach and Holthausen’s Alt und Mittel

englische Tex te, with the brief but useful editions of Beowulf,Elene, Emore, etc . The present volume might apparentlyhave appeared in that series with equal propriety.

It is hardly necessary to say that the editorial work hasbeen done with care and judgment . Professor Klaeber ’

s wideknowledge of Anglo-Saxon idiom and soun d critical sense

give the brief annotations much value. Here and there one

might wish some dis cussion of a difii cult pas sage, as Phoenix407b to

'

pas idge, in which the meaning of idge is merelyqueried in the glossary, and tapas does not appear to be

registered at all. This is the more regrettable as there is no

detai led edition of Phoenix , as there is of Chri st, for example.

It would be un fair,however, to censure a text for brevity

which aims chiefly at compactness , especially when the editorhas contrived to sugges t so much in small compass .

There is a very real need for such texts as this , as anyonewho has guided a class through the minor specimens of AngloSaxon poetry can tes tify. And although designed primari lyfor students , such texts are of much use to the investigator .

The smaller tools of scholarship are occas ionally surprisinglyconvenient in hewing a way through the thickets of research .

WILLIAM WITHERLE LAWRENCE .

Columbia University .


THE THAT-C’LAUSE IN THE AUTHORIZED VERSION

OF THE BIBLE—By Hubert G. Shearin ,Transylvan ia

Univers ity Studies in English ,1 . Lexington ,

Ky .

,1 910.

IV+85 pp .

In this monograph the author treats the subject underthree main heads—the Substantive Clause, the AdjectiveClause , and the Adverbial Clause. In his introduction he

says ,“The introductory conjunctional formulae of the various

that-clauses have for practical reasons been made the basis of

the sub-divisions,so as to group like with like. However,

any di screpancy between the form of the clause and its

meaning is mitigated by the cross referen ces .

”The follow

ing notices of the separate topics show that the formal classification has obscured the syntax in numerous cas es wherethere are no cross references , and that certain apparentlys imilar formulae are really of difierent origin and function .

The practical reasons for such a purely formalf

arrangement

do not appear : convenience of reference could have beenprovided for by an index to the formulae. The sub-divisionswill here be considered separately. Those under the Subs tantive Clause are : Subject Clause, Object Clause, Clauseof Specification ,

Predicate Clause, Appositive Claus e, Absolute Claus e, Omission of That in the Substantive Clause, How

That-Clauses .

The s tatement (p . 4 ) that certain that-claus es , thoughgrammatically adjectival , may perhaps be considered as logical subjects— as in Gen . So now it was not you that sentme hither—appears to involve a logical fallacy

, as comparisonwith the original indicates .

1 It is not the that-clause thatis logical subject , but the word that it limits , which is made thepredi cate for emphas is . The corresponding word in the original is grammatically the subject.

The observation (p . 5 ) that clauses like Gen . Howis it that thou hast found it so quickly “

I and

Acts so i t was that he was borne of the souldiers , vergeupon the cons ecutive, is not subs tantiated . In the originalof the first type no trace of result is visible

, and none,so far

as I can see, in the English . It refers,not to anything that

produces a resul t, but to the succeeding that-clause as a fact .In the examples of the second type with so the English isequally free from idea of result : so is the very commonElizabethan adverb of pure manner,

‘ thus ’

,not the derived

“Th e original will not always determine the syntax o f the transla

tion, but it often serves in doubtful cases to show the thought of the

translators, and thus to help determine the syntax.

148 Kch you

correlative so, and it as above refers to the subs tantive claus e.

The meaning is not“something [ it] was such that [as a

result ] but it was thus , namely,that etc . The

Vulgate, Contigit ut portaretur , which is cited, lends onlyspecious color to the cons ecutive theory . Even in old Latinthe ut-claus e of result had long become purely substantiveafter contigit and the like.

2

The clauses after than (pp . 5 it. ) are likewise without consecutive relation ,

but are purely substantive. The occurrenceof the substantivized infin itive in the originals quoted and

in the English (EX . it had bene better for -

vs to serue

the Egyptians , then that wee should die) points to the purelysubstantive cons truction . The Latin ut with the subjunctive(as in I. Sam. melius est ut fugiam ) lends no aid to the

consecutive interpretation ,for that probably never was con

secutive.

3

The two instances of that-clauses after than, Gen .

Isa. which are described as adverbial , may possiblybe constructed on the analogy of clauses like so great (etc. )that, and may therefore contain some consecutive force. The

remaining examples of than-clauses with that omitted (likePs . are, however, probably not all that-clauses , but are

of varying elliptical structure. Cf . Ox f. Dic . s . v . than .

Under Object Clause (p . 7 ) L ev . if the Pries t see, thatbehold, the s cab spreadeth in the skin

, is mentioned as noteworthy without ass ign ed reason . It is noteworthy

,it seems

to me, as an interesting modern method of conceiving the

object clause that points to the development of the conj unction that out of the demonstrative. Here the exclamatorydemonstrative behold points vividly to the following fact inthe that-clause just as the demonstrative that once did , andstill may in such a sentence as

“See that ! the scab spreadeth

in the skinSentences like Gen . And God saw the light , that it wasgood , are explained as a species of proleps is ” by which “

the

logical subject of the object clause is for emphas is broughtforward into the main clause as object of the leading verb .

The theory of proleps is is here, I believe, only due to our

modern grammatical conceptions by which we rationalize an

older style of thought characteristic of English , especially of

the popular idiom. It also occurs in the popular Hebrew and

Greek originals , but less frequently . It illus trates the principle which Professor 0. A . Smith calls “

the short reach inEnglish syntax”

. The sentence, God saw the light, that it

9 See Bennett, Syntax of Early L atin (Boston, p. 299, b .

9 See Bennett, p. 238 . o


1 5 0 Kenyon

is not subordi nate to cause, but is final after bow etc. Again,

among the examples with show (etc. ) sign that is placedJudges therewas an appointed s igne thatthey should make a great flame with smoke rise vp out of

the citie. The author has apparently mi sunderstood the pas sage. After several repulses from Gibeah by the Benjamites

,

the Israelites manage to get liers in wait between thems elvesand the besieged city. They then feign another retreat

,thus

drawing the Benjamites off till the liers in wait,as agreed

upon ,fire the city . On seeing the smoke—the appointed

sign—the Israelites turn and confound their enemies . The

that-claus e does not specify the application of sign or dependon it, but it is the sign , the clause being appositive.

I Kings thou diddest well that it was in thine heart ,belongs in a special category . See the Ox f . Dic . s . v . that

conj . 1b,where this pas sag e is quoted . The examples in the

Ox f. Dic . point to the developmen t of this construction byanalogy from that-clauses in appos ition to a single word , as,in the example, Helmstan 5 a undaede gedyde east he ZEheredesbelt forstael . The second example quoted would eas ily be

transitional to the present construction .

Shearin ’s example from Ps . what has t thou to doe

,to

declare my Statutes , or that thou shouldest take my Couenantin thy mouth ? belongs with the group discussed by him on

pp . 5 0-5 2 (See below, p . The same is true of Ezek .

placed here by the author,though he places the parallel

Isa. in the other category .

The category of Specification is likewise inadequate to

account for the clauses after in terjections (pp . 25 The

that-clause after words like woe and alas is probably differenthistori cally from that after Optative interjections . The Ox f.

Dic . assigns the former, in part at least , to the causal that.

The Oxford offers no explanation of the second group , thoughit can hardly be doubted that they are extensions of the objectclaus e after verbs of optative meaning .

The explanation of the development of would God that in

the order I would—I would to God—would to God—wouldGod (in which the suppress ion of to renders God an apparent subject of is directly opposed to the facts . The

expression would God that appears to be equally old withI would that, and moreover in the former God is the realsubject . Cf. Chaucer

,Book of the Duchess 665 : But god

wolde I had ones or twyes etc .,and D 1 103 So wolde god

myne herte wolde breste,“might God grant The same

construction is found in Old High German and is preservedin modern German with Gott still subject of the preterite

Reviews and N otes 1 5 1

subjunctive. I suggest that would to God is a cross betweenwould God and I would, with to later inserted to rationalizethe expression I would God. However this may be, it isof interest that in the Bible there is still a difference betweenwould God and I would. In all the s ix cases of would God

cited the thing wished for is conceived of as directly in the

hands of God,death being usually referred to. On the other

hand in the nine or ten instances of I would some ordinarywish is expressed without reference to divine intervention .

In one case of would to God the wish refers to death , and inthe others is general , as with I would.

In connection with the that-clause as Predicate, a dis tinotion might appropriately have been made between such purepredi cates as Eccl . the ex cellencie of knowledge is , thatwisedome giueth life, and those bas ed on the analogy of the

object clause, the subject being a noun implying action ,

as

in Job My desire is that Iob may bee tried vnto the

end.

Among appositive that-clauses are included first some ex

amples that the author regards as belonging equally well tothe group of clauses of specification . Among them is E ccl .

What is the cause that the former dayes were better ?This is certainly not appositive at all ; it belongs rather tothe group (see above, p . 149 ) analogically related to the objectclause. The older construction , cause of that clause,indicates the objective relation ,

as does the analogy wi thverbs of caus ing. Again

,John icy that a man is borne,

is probably not appositive, but the that-clause is a causalclause depending on ioy .

6

Under what the author calls true appos itives is quotedGen . in this will we consent vnto you : If ye wi ll be as webe, that euery male of you be circumcised, with the implication that the that-clause is appositive to this . But it is theconditional clause

,If be, that is in appos ition

with this , and the that-clause is in apposition with as we be.

John included here, is an ordinary final clause. Johngaue counsell that

,Rom. the promise that

,II Cor .

testimony that , Phil . expectation and h0pe that,all belong to the group mentioned above (p . 1 49 ) as analogousto object clauses . Acts is an object clause after hadshewed . In II Cor . the that-clause is object of besought,and this thing refers to the thorn in the flesh , so that theclause is not appositive.

Under the Clause Absolute are mentioned clauses that the9 F or further discussion of the treatment of that causal see below,

p. 1 64.

1 5 2 Kch you

author calls grammatically absolute approaching the causal ,such as John Not that any man hath scene the Father .These clauses are

,however, not absolute

,but elliptical

,and

they are of at leas t two kinds his torically (cf. Ox f. Dic . s . v .

that conj . 2b ) , some of them going back to the causal that,and others to the object clause after omitted verbs of sayingand the like. The distinction can be seen in the examplesquoted . In the first place, John This he said, not thathe cared for the poore ; but because hee was a thiefe, showsthe original of the first type in its unelliptical form

, the thatclause being causal and depending on this he said; this ex

ample belongs,therefore, not in this category , but among the

other causal clauses .

9 From this caus al clause we may pas seas ily to those in which the causal relation is dependent moreon what is implied than expressed

,as in Acts I was con

strained to appeale vnto Cesar , not that I had ought toaccuse my nation of. The remaining examples that belonghere are of the second type—“

I do not say that ”—as in John6 .45 f. Euery man therefore that hath heard , and hath learnedof the Father, commeth vnto me, not that any man hath scene

the father ; so II C‘or . Phil . Wrongly included here

are II Cor . in which the that-clause is final ; and Ezek .

which the author says is absolute with merely additivefunction .

”The that-clause is one of the accusations of

Aholah and Aholibah , being in apposition with abominations

in V . 36, and parallel with the other appositives in VV . 37 , 38 .

To the list of substantive claus es with omitted that (pp .

31 -34,49 ) should be added Num. (quoted on p . 67 , 4)

Gen . Ex . Gal . I John Rev .

which I have noted in cidentally.

Shearin explains the how that-claus e as a coalescence of

object how-clauses of manner with simple that-clauses . He

quotes four examples to show their s imi larity that could bringabout such a coalescen ce. Only one, however, is a combinationof a true clause of manner and a s imple object that-clause,as is clear from the Greek original and the Vulgate—Acts

.

7 In two of the other three examples , Josh . and II

Kings how has already lost its force of manner, and theclause is equivalent to a that-clause. I Cor .-5 how that

—that — that— that,is an example of the result of the “

co

alescence not of its cause, which it is cited to illus trate.

The colorless use of how that is , however, probably not the

result of a coalescence of how-clauses and that-clauses , but9 F or further discussion of the treatment of that causal see below,

p. 1 64.

7 Shearin entirely obscures the force of this pas sage and its originalsby misquotation. See below, where it is correctly quoted .


1 5 4 Keuyou

relative is omitted, the connection is closer still . Compare thefollowing : “ Here is a good book , which I brought with meto read “

This is the book that I want “This is the book

I want .Stress and closeness of. connection explain at leas t some of

Smi th ’s examples .

1 0 And (or but) in such cases always follows a logical pause, and in such a position the combinationand that

,both low-stressed

,is difficult, the natural tendency

being to give un due s tress to and; while and which al lowsthe normal stress relation . Besides this

,in the majority of

Smith ’s examples the firs t relative clause has a distinctly

closer logical connection to its antecedent than has the second .

Toller ’s sentence quoted

,

“There are other works than these

just mentioned that have been connected with Alfred ’s name,

but which for different reasons can hardly be considered tobe of equal importance with them,

”is essentially equivalent

to“There are other works connected with Alfred ’

s name,but they can hardly etc.

”Of course it is natural that the

relative most closely connected with its antecedent shouldusually come first

,with the less restrictive one following .

When we come to the Bible instances , the closer connectionof that to its antecedent accounts not only for most of the

cases where that precedes which, but also where it follows .

No absolute uniformity can of course be expected , as Graingerand Shearin emphas ize ; yet a comparison with the Hebrewand Greek originals makes it evident that in the great majority of instances a relative pronoun of the original is repre

sented in English by which, while adjective clause relations ofa more restrictive nature

, such as the article+participle, theconstruct or the genitive relation ,

descriptive nouns , and the

like,are usually represented in English by that, especially

when it is desired to differentiate between the two relations .

In the Greek of the N ew Testament a frequent constructionfor the looser relative connection is the noun or pronoun withpost-positive article+participle (sometimes an appos itive participle or noun ) , adding some characterization with more or

less closeness of connection . This is regularly rendered bywhich . I have compared with the original all the that

’s ,

who’s , and which

’s of the book of Revelation ,

and have foundthat of about 100 relative that

’s, 8 5 translate the article+

participle, as 6 he that holdeth ; 4 (restrictive)translate a relative pronoun ; 1 2 (restrictive) translate the

post—positive article+participle (or analogous construction ) ;1 (non-restrictive) a relative pronoun .

10 I recognize the value of Smith’s principle in certain cases ; but I

believe it is not the only one affecting the use of the two relatives.


It is sometimes difficult to distinguish between restrictiveand non-restrictive which, but as nearly as I can determine,of about 130 who ’

s and which’s 34 restrictive and 24 non

restrictive represent relative pronouns ; 30 restrictive and

23 non-restrictive represent the Greek post-positive article+participle (or analogous cons truction ) . Of about 20 ex ceptions several are the phrases they which, them which, those

which, those things which, of more or less stereotypednature

,in many of which

,however, which has the force

of qualis . Many of the exceptions in the use of which

and that can be accounted for by circumstances peculiarto each context

,

1 1 but these figures establish the generalru le that the us e of that or which depends largelyon the form of expression in the original . N ote the followingcharacteristic examplesRom. It is Christ that died , yea rather that is risen

againe, who is cuen at the right hand of God, who also maketh

intercess ion for vs Greek participle—participle —relative— relative ; Rev . he that holdeth the seuen starres in his

right hand,who walketh in the midst participle—post

positive participle ; them that holde the doctrine of

Balaam,who taught Balac participle— relative ; the

houre of temptation ,which shall come Vpon all the world,

to try them that dwell vpon the earth = post-positive participle—participle ; deceiueth them that dwel on the earth ,

by themeanes of thosemiracles which he had power to dosaying to them that dwell on the earth

,that they should make

an Image to the beast,which had the wound participle

relative—participle— relative ; Mark there was one

named Barabbas , which lay"

bound with them that had madeinsurrection with him

,who had committed murder ap

positive participle—participle— relative. Josh . he it

is that brought vs Vp and our fathers out of the land of

Egypt , from the house of bondage, which did those greatsignes Hebrew participle—relative ; Judges Iabin kingof Canaan : that reigned in Hazor, the captaine of whosehost was Sisera

,which dwelt in Harosheth . Here that in

troduces the closer connection , which the looser, pres ervingthe difference of the Hebrew ,

which reads literally, “who

reigned in Hazor ; and the captaine of his host was Sisera,11 N ote, for example, L uke And blessed is she that beleeued ,

for there shalbe a performance of those things . Here the margin has ,or which beleeued, that there. Here the change to which is obviously toavoid the repetition of that in different senses . In Rev. strengthenthe things which remaine, that are ready to die 2 adjective—relative,the use of which in the first clause throws the emphasis on the importantpart.

1 5 6 Kch you

and he dwelt etc . Judg . all which fell that day of

Ben iamin were twentie and fine thousand men that drewthe sword article+participle—participle, the first relativeidea receiving in Hebrew more emphasis than the second

,as

it does in English . Though both clauses are restrictive inEnglish the high-stressed relative con tains the importantidea . all those who fell were twenty-five thousand sol

diers .

The two examples quoted by Grainger of which restrictive(p . Gen . and both have relative pronouns inthe Hebrew.

1 2 Among the examples that Shearin gives to

illustrate the greater carrying power of which, that repre

sents in the Hebrew and the Greek a closer connection thanwhich in the following cas es : Deut . on them that hatethee, which persecuted thee Eccles . it shall be well withthem that feare God ,

which feare before him ; II Cor .

not he that commendeth himselfs is approued, but whom the

Lord commendeth—all these translating the original con

struction participle—relative.

1 3 In Josh . all the peoplethat were men of warre which came out of Egypt wereconsumed

, the translation represents noun of agent— participle (Vulgate : bellatores Viri—qui egressus est) , the same

differentiation being preserved between the relative ideas ;Josh . a hill that pertained to Phinehas his son , whichwas giuen him

,possessive genitive— relative ; L ev .

(misprinted and Josh . quoted by Shearin to showthe greater carrying power of which, are irrelevant , for theantecedent is repeated before the s econd relative.

“

12 In Gen . they took them wiues , of all which they chose, whichshows some of its earlier force of qualis . This doubtless had some in

fluence on the use of which in instances where we might expect that.

This use of which is still current. In a recent mathematical work Inoted a number of restrictive which’

s like the following : “Draw a linewhich shall pass through A and B .

1 9 It is of interest to note that the glossarist of the L indisfarneGospels has taken a similar means of representing the close connectionindicated by the L atin present participle ; namely, the use of the

asyndetic relative clause. S ee the article by Professor George 0 . Curmein this Journal for April, 1 91 2 , p. 1 81 .

1“Grainger’s view that which is used in L eviticus because of its

separation [by the word toucheth ] from its antecedent he can hardly bemaintained in view of the following passages from the immediate con

text : v. 4 whereon he lieth that hath the issue ; what saddle so

euer he rideth vpon, that hath the issue ; 1 1 whomsoeuer hee toucheththat hath the issue. More important here is the fact that every that

clause is restrictive , as also in verses 7 , 8, 1 0, and 1 3. In 1 2 the relativeof the Hebrew is rendered by that introducing a restrictive clause.

The use of which as the second relative in this verse may be due to

considerations of variety ; at any rate it appears to be exceptional inthis context.


1 5 8 Kenyon

dreams which I haue dr eamed, the relative clause is an em

phas ized separate statement “I have had a dream : hear

it.

”In v . 10What is this dréame that thou hast dr eamed ?

the relative claus e is more closely attached to the main,and

so receives les s separate emphas is : “What is thi s dream of

yours 1 7

In the classification of that as an adverbial accusative, itseems rather mean ingless to classify according to the grammetical construction of the antecedent of that e. g .

,nothing

is contributed to the elucidation of the syntax of the that

clause by placing Deut . thy dayes approach that thoumus t die

,under day as subject

,and teach the day

that thou stoods t before the LORD, under day as object . The

syn tax and meaning of the claus e is the same in both cas es .

A more significant arrangement would be to place togetherthe examples showing the same relation of that to its anteceden t ; as

,point of time or duration of. time. Mark

And when a conuenient day was come,that Herod on his

birth day made a supper, may be cons ecutive ; on the otherhand

,I doubt whether John The houre is come, that

the Sonne of man should be glorified, is cons ecutive, as

Shearin believes . The original poin ts to a final clause as the

bas is of the construction ,according to the Hebrew concep

tion .

1 9 In the English,however, the clause has probably

merely the force of an adjective clause limiting hour : “the

hour is come in which the son of man was to be (should be)glorified.

” Whatever final idea there is resides not in the

adverbial nature of the that-claus e,but in the force of

should .

1 9

I do not attempt to say to what extent the nice distinctions between that and which

,

are due to the translators o f the AuthorizedVersion and what to their predecessors . An exhaustive study o f theuse of the two relatives in connection With the originals would doubtlessyield interesting results .

19 See Winer’s N ew Testament Grammar, and Burton’s Moods and

Tenses of N ew Testament Greek, on the passage.

19 Cf. heading to John 1 3 discouereth to Iohn by a token thatIudas should betray him. S o and in which shall shows theforce of destiny and fairly represents the final force of the original.The that-clause as an adjective (not adverbial) element with final forceis to be explained as denoting, not the purpose of the verb , but th eend or application of the noun. This construction is related to the

similar construction of the infinitive as an adjective modifier depending on the noun . That-clauses and infinitive phrases are interchangeable in this use. Cf. Time to go, with Time that he should go. See

also E x . Ps . L ikewise in N . T. Greek the constructionsare interchangeable. The three passages referred to above all haveiva-clauses . In Lk . and I Peter the Greek has dependentinfini tive, with genitive inflection showing its immediate dependence

R eviews and N otes 1 5 9

Why Shearin places here John From that hour that ,it is hard to see. The pas sage reads , from that houre thatdisciple tooke her vnto his owns home.

Under the heading That as a Compound Relative Shearinexplains that as a contraction of that that. The pres ent tendency with some scholars is to regard the single that as the

original constru ction . The subject needs a larger collectionof material and a fuller treatment than it has yet received .

The Oxford Dictionary (s . V . That demonstrative and relative) appears to regard that relative with omitted antecedentas an earlier construction than that demonstrative with as yn

detie relative clause, the earliest citation for the formerbeing 888 where that refers to things and 1320 where thatrefers to persons ; and for the latter 1 5 23. Professor Gurme,however

,quotes Hwa is past he slog ? from Rushworth Matt .where poet refers to a person . The Oxford editors

admit that distinction between demonstrative and relativeis difficult to make, as stress is uncertain

,and in the earlier

stages there was probably less variation betweeh demons trative and relative (s . V . That, demonstrative, introductorynote) . Moreover, there must be considered not only the

earlier forms oi. that,but other inflected forms of the same

pronoun . When these are al l placed together the early oc

currence of the demonstrative followed by asyndetic claus eis much more eviden t. Professor Curme cites among othersfrom O. E . the following examples

Beow. 1397 gode bancode bees se man gespraec ;Gen . 1 7 5 7 L isse selle 19am be wirtSiatS;Rushworth Mark alle maehtiga 5 28m gelefes .

on the noun. Similar is R ev . All three are rendered in Englishby that-clauses , as in the other cases . N ote Tyndale

’s rendering of

John that the sonne of man must be glorified .

99 Journal of English and Germanic Philology , Jan . 1 91 2, p. 26 .

See Professor Ourme’s articles in the Journal of Jan. and April, 1 91 2 .

91 See many other examples in Professor Ourme’s articles in the

Journal, vols . X , p. 339 ; XI , pp. 26, 1 80. Surely he is right in re

j ecting the theory of attraction to explain the cases of these old

demonstratives . I would suggest, however, that Professor Curme goes

too far in interpreting most of these examples and many othersthroughout hi s articles as if the writers had no feeling of the relativeforce '

of these demonstrative forms . Many of them were doubtless

felt as relative as early as the Beowulf, for changes of syntactical con

ceptions always long precede the corresponding formal changes, or,

indeed , the form never changes but receives a new syntactical function .

But the examples are equally significant as formal survivals of an

earlier syntax. Moreover, the early conception of a relative force is

not inconsistent with the survival of the demonstrative force in manylater cases having the same origin. Among students of syntax the

principle is even yet too little recognized that old constructions do

1 60 Keuyou

I incline to the view that the so-cal led compound relative thatis a survival of the demonstrative that with following asyn

detic relative clause (“omitted It is noteworthy

that in Shearin ’s first group that is always neuter, and tre

quently still has cons iderable stress ; e. g ., Gen . and

sent ouer that hee had. Compare Gen . And he left allthat he had, in Ioseph

’

s hand : and he knew not ought hehad

,saue the bread which he did eate

,where ought occupies

the same syn tactical position as that in the previous ex

ample.

2 2 Compare also Gen . What is this that thou has tdone vnto me ? with Gen . What is this thou has t donevnto vs ? Also note the present-day

“What ’s that you have in

your hand ?” The demonstrative construction with asyndeti crelative clause is still alive.

The nearness to the demonstrative construction is shownespecially when a preposition precedes that, as in I Kings

Besides that he had of the merchant men ; I Sam.

the LORD reward thee good , for that thou hast done vnto methis day ; II Sam. I haue sinned greatly in that I hauedone ; I Cor . tempted aboue that you are able ; John

enquire of that I saide. It seems most natural toregard the demonstrative as the earlier construction in suchcases and still formally surviving, in ag reement wi th the

history of that in other constructions,rather than to consider

it a late development from a restressing of relative that.

2 3

The examples treated on p . 49 under The Omission of That

probably therefore belong to this category . When , as in the

example from Ex . in that day thou seest my face, the

not usual ly die after giving birth to new ones . All chronological treatment of syntactical phenomena must take that into account. A tenthcentury example may be more modern than a twentieth century one .

99 This passage is an excellent example of difi'

erentation in the ren

dering of the Hebrew relative clauses. The Hebrew is, somewhat literally,

“And he left all which [was ] to him in Joseph’

s hand ; and heknew not anything with him except the bread which he ate.

” The first

of the Hebrew relatives is the most restrictive, the second relative ideahas no relative, and the third is least closely connected with the

antecedent. With this the Engli sh corresponds exactly : that—no rela

tive—which.

29 Our modern feeling in this construction by which we rationalizethat as a compound relative, is probably influenced by the use of

relative wha t in sentences like He found what he wanted,” where whatis felt as equal to that which, but probably originated in the indirectquestion, and the general relative what. The origin of that in an ap

parently similar use is probably different, and our assimilation of it to

the what-construction obscures to our feeling in all but the most

obvious cases the fact that that is at bottom demonstrative and followedby the asyndetic relative clause. I note that Schmidt in his ShakespeareLexicon regards that in such cases as the demonstrative.


1 62 Kenyon

be classed in similarity of relation to the protas is,those, re

corded elsewhere by Shearin ,in which the interrogative gov

ern ing clause is replaced by a negative s tatement,and the

that-clause is thought of as a consequence attributed hypothetically to the thing that is denied in the protasis ; as Deut .

It is not in Heauen,that thou shouldes t say ; Judg .

yee did not giue vnto them at this time, that you shouldbe guiltie ; Isa. there is no beautie that we should desirehim ; so Gen . L ev .

These idiomatic consecutive clauses which are explained bythe fact implied in the govern ing clause are different in sense

from other ordinary result clauses, even when the latter are

hypothetical and depend on interrogative s tatements ; e. g .,

Num. wherefore hath the LORD brought VS vnto thisland, to fal l by the sword, that our wiues , and our childrenshould be a pray ? So Num. Isa. II Sam.

Among these interrogative sentences Shearin includes sev

eral that do not belong here two have only an external s imilarity

— Gen . What has t thou done, that thou has tstollen away vnawares to me ? Here the that-clause is not

consecutive but appos itional with what hast thou done, the

mean ing being,What did you mean by stealing away thus ?”

The meaning is apparent if this is contras ted with I Sam.

What haue I done that he seeketh my life ? Parallelis Judg. Why has t thou serued vs thus

,that thou calledst

vs not when thou wentest to fight ? Job is erroneouslyclassed among the interrogative clauses .

Several examples classed as consecutive clauses do not be

long here ; e. g .,Ruth so shee came

,and hath continued

euen from the morning vntill now,that she taried a little

in the house. That in this cas e means‘when ’

; see the Ox f.

Dic . s . V . That, p . 25 4,6b

,where several examples are given ,

among them two that closely parallel this : 1 648 Until justthat we came 1 780 till about half a year ago, that my illstars directed me. I have noted ins tances of this meaningof that in Chaucer

,Leg . Prol . A 5 4 Til on the morwe, that

hit is dayes light ; and Milton , Comus 642 but little reckon ingmade

,Till now that this extremity compelled .

2 5 II Thess .

9“It may be doubted whether the use of now that in the sense of‘since’

,

‘seeing that’

,referred to in the Ox f. Dic. (Cf. N ow, 1 2 b ) isparallel to this example . Here that carries the essential meaning,while in now that 2

‘since’

that is unnecessary, now formerly, and

sometimes even yet, being used alone, at first doubtless as a simpleadverb of time in a paratactic construction with the causal relation onlyimplied, as in “

N ow you are here : let us begin.

” That was apparentlyadded as it was in when that, if tha t, and the like. Cf. W. S . St. John

N u bu cart hal geworden ; ne syuga bu.


And now yee know what withholdeth , that hee mightbee reuealed in his time, is not consecutive but final

,as the

Greek shows and according to the idea suggested by the

phras e in his time, which Sheari n omits . The man of sin is

withh eld in order that he may not appear before his ap

pointed time. II Peter they make you that yee shallneither be barren ,

nor vnfruitful, is classed as consecutive,and this agrees with the class ification of the Ox f. Dic . I

believe,however

,that this is wrong . It would give an un

paralleled meaning to make, much more probably the thatclause is used after make just as the infini tive would be z“make you to be etc .

” Such interchange of the infinitive and

that-clause is very common .

2 9 Of. Job suffer me that Imay speake

,with Gen . God suffered him not to hurt me.

That the clause is naturally a substantive clause in Englishis indicated by the omission of that, as in Chaucer, D 61 7

That made me I coude noght withdrawe.

After class ing Gen . F or their ri ches were more thanthat they might dwell together and similarly

J

Isa. as

consecutive,the author adds

,Usually that is omitted in

such sentences ,”

and quotes a number of clauses with thanthat clearly are not consecutive at all, as can readily be seen

by supplying the supposedly omitted that as in Dan .

they should heat the furnace one s suen times more'

then

[ that ] it was wont to be heat . In fact,the examples with

than represent elliptical clauses of several syntactical varictiss , depending on the nature of the protas is , as can be seen

by a glance at the quotations in the Ox f . Dic . under than .

The clauses classed under but that in troducing “a nega

tive consecutive clause”nee

‘

d reclassification,for not al l

here included are of a cons ecutive nature. An examinationof the Ox f. Dic . examples of but (that) clauses revealsthe fact, not specifically stated , that but governs that-clauses

(probably originally substantive clauses after the prepos itionbut) of vari ous sorts

,in which but has the general sens e of

except or without , and the that-clause denotes result , ac

companying circums tance,

a contrary reason , etc .,being

sometimes negative and sometimes afifirmative. F or example,while Exodus he hath not kept him in ,

but that he hathkilled a man

,clearly denotes negative result,

“so that he

hath not”, the idea is different in Josh . 1 8 Is the in

iquitie of Peor too little for vs,from which we are not

cleansed Vntil this day But that ye must turne away this2" The two constructions are sometimes mixed ; see the two examplesfrom Chaucer, in the Chauc. Soc . Pub . 2d Series , 44, 1 909 , p. 1 40.

See Matt. Mark Ex . Ps .

1 64 Kenyon

day from following the Lord ? Here but has the sense of‘without ’ before a substantive clause “ without your turning away which is not consecutive. Prov. A foole hathno delight in vnderstanding , but that his heart may dis

coner itselfe,is neither consecutive nor negative. But is here

the ctiordinate conjunction ,and the that-clause is analogous

to the object clause after delight and syntactically paral lelwith in understanding, L iterally, the Hebrew reads , no

delight in understanding, but in his heart ’

s revealing itself” .

The same idea and syntax are found in Ezek . In

Luke but that means‘ that not ’

,but the claus e is not

consecutive. Shearin is right in saying that Eph . is“ probably substantive”

,but it clearly is not consecutive.

The classification of such different examples together merelybecause they contain a common phrase (formally ) , contributes nothing to

‘

the subject of syntax,and is hardly excused

in this cas e by the “assumption that the clause is absolute in

origin,but (be+utan ) that being the syntactical equivalent

of ex cepto eo, quod,”for but that is by no means of the

same origin in all the cases cited . F or Josh . cf. Num.

Under the Causal Clause Shearin says Etymologicallycons idered, the that-clause is perhaps appositional to the

second (substantive) element in the compound be cause;

historical ly,however, it is merely a survival of the added

relative common after all adverbial conjunctions etc .

” Herethere appears to be logical confusion ; for what is the difierence between etymologically and historically ? An etymologythat does not reproduce the history of a syntactical phraseis scarcely to be trusted . That introducing a clause in

appos ition with cause in be-cause (as in Kn ight’s Tale 2488

by the cause that they sholde ry se) is altogether di fferentin syntax from that added after conjunctions . Oi courseafter the appositional use had become stereotyped into the

express ion because that, this phrase naturally came by analogy to be clas sed with after that, before that, etc.

, of differentorigin . Indeed, this very phrase because that, may havecontributed to the development of if that, when that, etc.

,

though the main source of these be the use of the prepos itionslike after, before, etc. ,

with that as pronominal object .Under the introductory formula seeing that, indi cating

the ground of thought or action,is wrongly recorded Gen .

9 And Esau seeing that the daughters of Canaan pleasednot Isaac his father. Then went Esau vnto Ishmael . Seeingthat here is not the stereotyped formula meaning ‘

since ’

,

‘ becaus e ’

,but the ordinary present participle of see. The


1 66 Kenyon

for his pietie o’

mb 7 5 g sbkafis iag) . The term specificationis inadequate to des cribe the latter sort ; they should have beenincluded among causal claus es , or at leas t have had a crossreference to that category .

In the same category of Specification , under the formulanow that are classed examples that belong in different categorice. In II Sam. Now (vfiv, nun c ) therefore that Iam come it is because the people haue made meafraid, now has its ful l force as a temporal adverb and is

syntactically s eparate from that, which introduces a sub

stantive clause in apposition with it. The that-clause has thesame constru ction in Eph . Now (82s , autem) that heas cended, what is it but that hee also descended, being in apposition with it, and now being merely the logical particleintroducing a new point in argument (see Ox f . Dic . s . V

N ow, Only one example quoted

,Ps . and now that

he lyeth ,he shall rise Vp no more

,properly belongs here

,but

in this the formula now that does not denote specification but

cause, and should accordingly have been classed with the restof the causal clauses .

Under That as a Pro-conjunction the first example is verydoubtful Jsr . 1 7 let that man be as the cities which theLORD ouerthrew Because he slew me not fromthe wombe : or that my mother might haue beene my graue.

Here the substitution of because for the second that does not

give the right sense. Whatever may be the sense of the original (ci . Rev . Vere ) , the translators of the A . V . apparentlyregarded or graue as alternatively parallelwith let wombe, so that the that clause i s a

claus e of wish,

9 9 like Wint. Tale I. ii . 1 2 that may blow N osneaping winds at home.

9 9

Appendix IV contains the full list of references for con

secutive that-clauses . In some cases i t is difficult to distinguish between purpose claus es and clauses of conceived result.

A large number of Shearin ’s examples , however , can hardly

” See also Ox f. D ic. s . v . That, conj . 2c .

29 Shearin’s explanation of the use of that as a pro

-conj unction,which is far older than Elizabethan English, as due to a desire to avoidrepetition, is hardly adequate, in View of the repetition of that itself.S everal causes may have j ointly contributed to its spread. In addition to those that have been suggested, one of the most natural is con

nected with that added to conj unctions . In such expressions as beforethat clause, even after before became felt as a conj unction the that

clause would be felt as the unit depending on it. When several suchunits occurred in a series after one conj unction , they also would natural ly be that clauses introduced in succession by that.

The Ox f. D ic . gives no examples of this use of that betw n 1 1 7 5

and 1 489 , though it occurs in Chaucer (e. g. B 4 5 5 5 , Troil. I .


be anything but final clauses , as the sense of the English and

the originals show . E . g . I Cor . 29 And base thingshath God chosen , yea and things which are not

,

to bring to nought things that are,30 That no flesh should

glory in his presence ( = 6’

mog uh let himcats at home

,that ye come not together vnto condemnation

( = i'

va uh cuvépx sctls ) ; so Ex . 35,43 ; 23 ; L ev .

Num. Deut . Judg .

I Kings Isa. Lk.

Rom. (cf . I Cor . Gal .

II Thess . Tit. 14 ; Heb . I Pet. Rev .

If the thought in these examples be com

pared with that in the so that—clauses (App . V ) , the differencewill be obvious . II Chron . is marked doubtful . It

contains two that-clauses , one final and one consecutive. Ezek .

is identical , but is cited without question as consecutive.

Job . and John belong to the group di scussedby Shearin on pp . 5 0- 5 2 (see p . 1 61 of this paper ) . Ezek .

is probably an appositive or a relative clause.

Among the references (App . V ) for so that consecutiveclauses are included three that are conditional , so that havingthe sense of

‘ provided that ’

: I Kings There shall notfaile thee a man in my s ight to sit on the Throne of Israel ;so that thy children take heede ; (margin “Heb. onely

the corresponding passage in II Chron . ThereIsrael : yet so, that thy children take heede ;

and ActsJOHN S . KENYON .

Butler College.

ESSAYS ON QUESTION S CONNECTED WITH THEOLD ENGLISH POEM OF BEOWULF .

—By KnutStj erna, Ph .

_

D ., sometime Reader in Archaeology in the

Univers ity of Upsala; Translated and edited by John R .

Clark Hal l , M. A .,Ph . D . (Viking Club Extra Series , Vol.

III. ) 1 912 . 4to. XXXV 284 pp .

This is a novel kind of book . Countless treatises,great

and small , in which the various Beowulf problems are at

tacked from the philological side, have been showered uponthe world of scholars . There have also appeared a few minorstudies of certain archeological features of the poem ,

not

90 Observe in thi s passage the nice use o f which and that, where theoriginal makes no distinction . Which has more emphasis as a characterizing relative (qualis ) , the phrase being a striking statement, while inthe following the stress drops in accord with the more normal con

ception. N ote, too, that the alterations of word stress are natural .

1 68 Klaeber

to mention the cursory references scattered through somewell-known handbooks . But here we find for the first timean exhaus tive study of the complete Scandinavian archeological material combined with a systematic application of

the knowledge thus gained to the elucidation of the Beowulfand its genesis . And it is a recognized specialist in Northernarcheology that speaks to us in these pages . A brilliantscholar

,in whom Montelius took an especial interest , for

some time reader in archeology at the Univers ity of Upsala,

Dr. Stj erna was prematurely called from his promising laborsin the year 1 909 . But he left a notable record in the annals

of a science in which Scandinavian scholars have gained an

enviable reputation . During his short professional careerhe showed himself a wonderfully productive writer , a stu

dent of rare indus try , learning, and a power of combination ,

which led him beyond the mere statement of facts to the

working out of definite,fruitful conclus ions . Those of his

papers which relate to the Beowulf have now been broughttogether in this admirable English vers ion ,

and it is safe tosay that most of them have thus become really access iblefor the first time, s ince previous ly they were more or lesshidden away in a number of Swedish journals and two specialpublications dedicated to Montelius and Schiick.

The s cope of the investigations contained in this statelyvolume will appear from the titles of the individual essays .

I. Helmets and Swords in Beowulf . II. ArchaeologicalNotes on Beowulf . III. Vendel and the Vendel Crow . IV .

Swedes and Greats during the Migration Period . V . Scyld ’

s

Funeral Obsequies . VI. The Dragon ’s Hoard in Beowulf .

VII. The Double Burial in Beowulf. VIII. Beowul f ’s

Funeral Obsequies . Three of the papers , it will be seen ,

include studies of burial customs , two are concerned withimportant phas es of early Scandinavian history, and the re

maining three contain ,generally speaking, a comparison of

certain groups of archeological finds with their literary counterparts in the Old English poem. One hundred and twentyseven excellent illustrations and two maps accompany the

text .In the first (and earlies t ) of the papers Stj erna examines

carefully all the allusions to swords occurring in the Beowulfand then enumerates the archeological parallels

,i . e. the

remains or reproductions (on bronze plates ) of some twentyhelmets found in the N orth . Two of: them,

by the way ,

belong to England, viz . the well-known Ben ty Grange helmetand another one from Cheltenham. Some of the helmets are

surmounted by complete boar images , others show only the


1 70 Klaeber

name‘Vendel Crow ’ given to the dead king (who was likened

to a crow torn to pieces by eagles ) cannot be a late literaryinvention

,but must have originated immediately after the

battle. As the king fell in his own land, the Vendel in ques

tion cannot be the large Jutish dis trict of that name, butmust be the place called Vendel in Swedi sh Uppland . Vendelis at present an insignificant church-village, some twentyEnglish miles north of Upsala, but being favorably locatedfor commercial traffic, it enjoyed a considerable importancein the Middle Ages . There are exceptionally numerous an

cient cemeteries near Vendel , the principal one of which datesin its oldest parts from about A . D . 600 and was evidently theburial place of a great chieftain ’

s family . It may safely beconcluded that about the year 5 00 there existed a royal fortress at Vendel , and that a noble family resided there.

A more comprehens ive s tudy of the relation between the

Greats and Swedes is contained in the illuminating chapteron

‘ Swedes and Geats during the Migration Period ’

. The

migrations from Scandinavia to the South (of Europe) tookplace between A . D . 300 and 5 5 0 (to give exact dates ) , andresulted in a decided thinning of the population in southernScandinavia, as is proved by the remarkable decrease in the

number of graves . On the other hand,the southern European

kinsmen of the Scandinavians sent , in exchange for reinforcements , large quantities of gold northwards . This importationis traceable from about 400A . D . and continued for a centuryand a half. During that period there was a sharp contrastbetween the Northern (Swedish ) and the Southern (Geatish )part . South of the great lakes there lived a relatively small,wealthy, civilized population ,

whereas north of that boundaryline we find a people undiminished in numbers

,much less

cultured , but energetic and aggress ive. The natural resultwas that the N orthern people moved southwards and by dintof superior force and numbers made themselves mas ters of

the land .

“The attack upon the South compelled them to

concentrate in Uppland,and from the s ixth century inclus ive

up to the end of the prehistori c period the dearth of finds

which had previously existed is followed by an over-abundantwealth of them. The prototypes of the objects whose formsnow become the ruling ones in eastern and southern Scandinavia are however not found in Uppland only, but also inNorrland . The lines of commun ication going through Uppland from north to south

,along the rivers Temnare, Vendel

and F yris , with the easternmost limits of the Malar, becomethenceforward the most important, and here—at Vendel , Upsala

,Ultuna, Haga, Tuna and Haggeby (Bjork6 )—the great

Reviews and Notes 1 71

est and most striking finds have been made, and the religiousand political headquarters grew up . This sudden increase inwealth was the result of the Victorious extension of the powerof the Swedes over the more southerly and richer borderlands ,and their great influence was gained at the expense of the

downfall of the independence of the Gauts . The overthrow of

the latter was thus the great event in which the movements of

the Migration period resulted in Scandinavia.

”(p. 72 f. )

To judge from the Beowulf and, indi rectly, from the Ynglingasaga, the wars between the two tribes extended over a

considerable period and were evidently called forth by natural causes of a serious nature. Of the identity oi. the Beo

wulfian Geatas and the Gantar Dr . Stj erna is fully convinced .

“It is difficult to conceive why the Swedes and (say ) theJutes should attack each other time after time on lands so

widely separated . On .the other hand it is quite natural thatthe Swedes should attack and subjugate the rich and com

paratively weakly-defended territory of the Gauts .

”(p .

Of the Geatish distri cts the island of Gland is consideredto have played an especially prominent part . It moreoverexhibits according to Stj erna the geographical features whichanswer to the descriptions in the Beowulf . Thus the sea

mentioned in connection with the wars (11. 2380, 2473) isthe Baltic , and even a direct allusion to the island is supposedto be contained in the express ion e

'

aland,2334. That the en

counters themselves happened “on the water (p . is

,

of course, an entirely unwarranted inference.

It s tands to reason that the Beowu lf version is nearest tohistorical truth . In course

‘

ot°

time, the traditions becameconfused

,in particular ‘

Danified’

,and the place of the Geats

was taken by the Danes and Jutes , as may be seen from the

Ynglingasaga and—we may add— from the often quoted no

tice of Gregory of Tours,who represents

as a king of the Danes .

One of the most admirable essays of the entire volume isthe one on

‘ Scyld ’s Funeral Obsequies ’

(‘

Sk6ld’s Hadan

which dis cusses the archeological and,incidentally ,

the literary evidence bearing on the famous story of the

passing of Scyld . About the beginning of the third centuryA. D . there was introduced (again ) into the N orthern countries the belief that the soul was released by death from the

body and lived a life free from martial or other activi ty,

together with other souls,in some distan t place

,a kingdom

of the dead . With this view was associated the idea (found inmany different countries ) of a long journey by ship , boat,horse

,or sledge, according to

“

the varying physical surround

1 72 Klaeber

ings of the people. This idea of death , which was imported fromthe south , conflicted with the old view of warfare in the life tocome. A compromise between the two conceptions appears inthe great moor-finds of this time, which show the dead gathered into one heap in conformity with the Southern view

,

but at the same time provided with weapons in anticipationof continued fighting . The evolution of the sea-voyage ideais then traced through three successive stages evincing a

progressive spiritualization .

‘ Scyld ’s Passing ’

is a purespecimen of the ship burial customs of the earliest type

,

which Stj erna ventures to assign to a period beginning aboutthe close of the fourth and ending about the middle of the

sixth century . Ar chaeology can of course produce no realparal lel . But the remains of the Vendel boat-graves (representing the second stage) remind us in several details of

the Beowulf account . That the incident of Scyld ’s sea burial

is an original and significant element of the story and not

merely an addition made for the sake of digni fying and embellishing the narrative, is rightly insisted upon by the

author .

An examination of the last three papers—highly stimulating as they are— would unduly prolong this review .

Suffice it to mention an interesting result reached in the

chapter on ‘Beowulf ’

s Funeral Obsequies ’. The combination

of corpse-burning and grave-mounds , as it appears in the

Beowulf, is paralleled by the finds in the eas tern part of

South Scandinavia only, i . e. in Gland . An exact counter

part of the Beowulfian mound (Biowulfes biorh ) is the royalbarrow at Gamla Upsala

,called Odinshog ; the two must have

been contemporary . In this paper,by the way ,

and likewisein the one on

‘

The Dragon ’s Hoard ’

Stj erna goes too far indwelling on (real or apparent ) inconsistencies of the narrative and accounting for them by the as sumption of an incom

plete blending of duplicate lays .

The net result of Stj erna’s inves tigations thus only briefly

analyzed may be described as an emphatic confirmation of

the Scandinavian character of our Beowu lf. It is generallyadmitted today that the story material is largely derived fromthe North . But

,if Stj erna be right in his interpretations

and conclusions , much of the original “setting”

also is re

tained in the Old English poem , or, in other words , theScandinavian bas ic lays have left many more traces in the

text of the Beowulf than conservative s tudents hitherto daredto assume. With his characteristic precision the author occas ionally draws a line of divis ion between the original Scandinavian and the later English elements .

“The Anglo-Sax on


1 74 Ourme

not only traces the history of form and mean ing but also thehi story of the various theories that have been offered to ex

plain these forms and their meaning . This treatise has a

marked pecul iarity . It does not put the author ’

s own con

tributions in the foreground so that undue attention is at

tracted to them to the detriment of the general outline. The

author modestly inserts the results of his own investigationsat the proper place in the general development so that theorderly historical narrative is never interrupted and the Viewis never obscured .

This work is much more than it profes ses to be. The authormodestly represents his treatise as a history of the Dutchforms . In fact it is a history of the Germanic development ofactive and pas s ive tense forms . N ot only the Scandinavian ,

German,English , Dutch , and Frisian forms have been treated ,

but the Dutch and Low German dialects have received carefulattention ,

and the Romance languages , Russ ian ,Sanskrit , La

tin ,and Greek have been skilfully introduced into the discus

sion . Professor Kern ’

s ofi cial activity in Groningen in

teaching English , Russ ian and Sanskrit has enlarged his Vi

sion and brought the breadth of view into this study that isusually so sadly lacking in treatises of this kind . This patientand valuable study of the different Dutch and Low Germandialects has strengthened the present writer ’

s faith in the valueof di alect study in general and brought home to him in a ratherpainful way the fact that his own Grammar of the GermanLanguage would be a better book if he had paid a little moreattention to the closely related Dutch dialects

,which in a

number of places throw bright light upon the German develOpment. On the other hand, the writer feels that ProfessorKern might possibly have profited a little if he had read theGrammar of the German Language, which in a place or two

throws a little light upon the general question under cons ideration . Professor Kern has ,

like European scholars in general ,not thought it worth while to read American publications ,but he is thoroughly posted on everything that has appeared inEurope. It is interesting to note how even after his manus cript was closed he has worked into his treatise as best hecould the fruits of the latest research . At the close amongh is corrections ”

he comments favorably upon the recentvaluable contribution of Professor Kurrelmeyer in

“ Zeitschri ft fii r Deutsche Wortfors chung 1 2

,1 5 7 and thus

thru the instrumentality of a German periodical an Americanscholar comes to his own .

This treatise, one of themost valuablemonographs the writerhas ever read, ought to be in the possess ion of every Germamc


scholar . Its 31 9 closely printed large pages are too crowdedwith facts to be reproduced briefly here. A few of

the principal results are given here in the hope that they maystimulate to the reading of the original work or at leas t beof some ass istance to the student of Germanic syntax .

In Germanic there were only two distinct tense forms , thepresent and the past . The former was used for both the present and the future. The first attempts to form compoundtenses were made by as sociating the auxiliaries werden and

sein with the pas t participles of transitives and mutativeintrans itives , i . e. intransitives that indicate a change of

place or condition . Originally in all such compound tensesthe pas t participle was merely a predicate adjective withoutthe slightest temporal force : “

das Dorf ist am Wal de gelegen

’ “das Dorf war amWalde gelegen

”. The time was that

indicated by the verb . Thus in the oldest period the tensewas either present or past

,for there were only two tenses .

This is the s ituation after both wairpan and wosan in Gothic ,the oldest German ic language. This oldes t condi tion is stilloccasionally preserved in modern German , as seen by thesetwo examples .

The participle a little later acquired temporal force, as this

new mean ing was often naturally suggested by the situation :

“sr ist gefallen”

;“er war gestorben

, ehe ich ankam”. The

time is here no longer that indicated by the verb . We havehere two new tenses— perfect and pluperfect . This was a

very natural development , for it took place in a number of

languages : “ lapsus sum” “ ich bin ausgelitten ” “ik ben

uitgegleden etc. In the course of the Old High Germanperiod these compound forms acquired the following meanings . The past participle in connection with sein formed theperfect and pluperfect tenses

,pass ive in force Where the verb

was transitive and active where it was intrans itive : “er ist

gesehen”(old perfect pass ive, which is still in use in North

Germany and Holland ) ,“sr war gesehen (old pluperfect

passive) ;“er ist gekommen

”(perfect active) , sr war ge

kommen”(pluperfect active) . The pas t participle in con

nection with werden formed the present and past tenses , passive in force where the verb was transitive and active wherethe verb was intrans itive “

sr wird geschlagen”(present

passive) , “er ward qeschlagen

”(past passive) : weortSeiS

cumen (old active present ) (Gen . 21 96 )“ will

come , literally becomes come. At first the passive presentwith werden could only be formed where the participle hadperfective force, i . e. represented the action as completed :Das Haus wird jedes Jahr angestrichenx

’” “The house is

1 76 Gurme

painted every year In the course of the O. H . G. period thisform

,which at first was only used to denote an act as a whole,

as completed,and is called the actional pas sive

,acquired in

addition imperfect , progressive force : Das Haus wird jetztangestrichen

’ “The house is now being painted.

”

Of these forms the one made with werden and the participleof an intransitive verb , as in the example from Gen . 21 96

given above, disappeared in the different languages . In

0. H . G. and in O. E . alongs ide of the present and pas t pass iveforms with werdau there were also forms with wesan and

beon in English and forms with wesan in German . Thusthe participle with wesan was used to denote the present andpast tenses and also the perfect and pluperfect . In the following centuries the German and English peoples tried to ex tri

cate thems elves from this tangle and find a clearer expressionfor their thought . In German the forms with wesan graduallydisappeared in the present and pas t wherever the referencewas to an act, but remained where the idea of state was present :

“Das Haus wird jedes Jahr angestrichen

”(actional ) and

“Das Haus wird jetzt angestrichen

”(progressive) , but Das

Haus ist angestrichen”(perfective form denoting a state) .

In accordance with the older usage,however, sein is still reg

ularly used with actional force in the imperative and oftenalso in the infinitive :

“ Kusse L ieschen und die Kinder undsei gehii sst von Deinem Theodor” (F ontane an seine F rau,

March 10,

“Br wollte nicht daran erinnert sein

”

(Wildenbruch’

s Die Alten und die Jungen ) . The writer hasgiven many ex amples in his Grammar”

, (pp . 300 In

general,however

,the differentiation at this point in German

became quite clear .

There remained , however, one difficulty—the perfectivepresen t and past had the same form as the actional perfectand pluperfect . In the thirteen th century the ambiguous istand war of the old actional perfect and pluperfect were re

placed by the perfect and pluperfect forms of werden, whichwas already in use as the auxiliary of the present and pasttense, so that the same auxiliary might be used thruout thepas s ive sys tem :

“Das Haus ist angestrichen worden

’

(actionalperfect pass ive) , etc . A corresponding perfective perfect andpluperfect were formed by the use of the perfect and pluperfect tenses of sein :

“Das Haus ist angestrichen gewesen .

”The

old obscure actional forms still linger on in the colloquiallanguag e of N orth Germany and Holland . Es wird bestritten ,

dass ein japanis cher Kreuzer gesehen ist (Hamburger Nach

richten, Jan . 14, Professor Kern on p . 38 warmlydefends the older perfect and pluperfect forms here


1 78 Curme

became established with un inflected participle. This usagegradually spread to transitives without an object and to verbsthat governed a geni tive or dative, as there was in all thesecases a close similarity oi. construction to that found in transitives .

The last step in the development was the extension of the

use of haben to non-mutative intrans itives,i e. such as do

not indicate a change of place or condition “sr hat gear

beitet”,

“sr hat lange geirrt ” . Thus two groups of intransi

tiy es stood over against each other, the non-mutatives withhaben, the mutatives with sein : Der Schiffer hat (to denotean act) or ist (to denote a change of place) abgestossen ”

.

The non -mutatives assumed haben as they approached in

meaning the trans itives without an object , which had stillearlier under the influence of transitives become associatedwith haben . Professor Hermann Paul ’s investigations led

him to the conclus ion that haben has imperfective or durativeforce

,while sein has perfective meaning : “

er hat lange gelitten

”, but

“er ist in der Stadt angekommen,

” “er ist nach

Hause gefahren”,

“er ist erkrankt

”,

“er ist gestorben

”. Per

fectives call attention ,not to an act as a whole

,but only to a

point in the activity, the end, which may be either the final

goal, as in“Er ist in der Stadt angekommen

”— the effectiveperfective—or the beginn ing of something new, as in

“Er

ist eingeschlafen, abgereist” “He has fallen as leep , has de

parted”,literally “

He has gotten into sleeping, departingthe ingressive perfective. Profes sor Kern has called attentionto a serious error in P rofessor Paul ’s rule. We often use

haben with intransitive perfectives , as in “Er hat laut auf

gelacht” “He broke out into a loud laugh His rule mus t be

amended to : Sein is used with mutative intransitive perfectives .

Wherever there is a doubleness of conception South Germansare man ifes ting a growing fondness for sein to call attention .to

the mutative idea. Thus haben in“ durch welche schulde

di e helde her gevarn han”(N ibelungenlied, Aventiure VI)

“for what purpose the heroes have come here”

has beenreplaced by sein . The M. H . G. poet calls attention to the

linear perfective idea, i . e. the idea of a continuous movementuntil the goal is reached, while the modern South German feelsthe mutative idea as the more important . South German hashad a marked influence upon the literary language at this

poin t . Thus we now find quite commonly in the best authorssuch sentences as

“Wir sind den ganzen Tag mars chiert ” ,

altho the durative idea is prominent . The mutative idea hasbecome associated with such verbs and sein is used even where


there is no goal expres sed . Hollanders here regularly give ex

press ion to the durative idea Where it is prominent : “De

soldaten hebben drie uur gemarzj eerd”,but

“Het leger is

in een dag van A . naar B . gemars j eerd”

. Also North Germansoccas ionally employ haben for the durative idea in accordancewith the tendency in N orth German dialects : “

So hat er langeJahre neben seinem Hundefuhrwerk durch die Dbrfer ge

trabt ” (F rennsen’

s Jbrn Uhl, chap . XI ) . N orth Germansgenerally res ist South German usage in case of beharren ,

be

ruhen, bestehen, hangen, hochen,liegen, schweben ,

sitzen, stech

en, stehen, etc. :

“ Viele Monate hatte sr im Spital gelegenwhere a South German regularly uses war as he does not

think so much of the continuation in the lying position as of

the ingress ive linear idea of getting into a long-continuingprostration . The literary language of the North , however, follows this us age here in the case of bleiben and sein .

The latter verb did not originally belong here, and hencewas once conjugated with haben in the N orth , but it has longbeen intimately associated with the mutative werden and in

the South was influenced by it. Also in Dutch the auxiliaryhebben, once almost exclusively in use here, has graduallyyielded to eij u as auxiliary with eij u . Professor Kern doesnot . pos itively state whether he regards this outcome as

autochthonic development or the result of German influence.

The writer thinks the latter probable,as this new usage

,as

far as he can see, developed, not in colloquial speech , but inthe literary language, which has been subject to the influenceof literary German . Of course the analogy of worden

( = werden ) facilitated the development. In both German and

Dutch the verb sein“to be

” has gradually been approachingthe meaning of werden, differing however in that its meaningis ingressive linear, i . e. to get into a long-continuing state”

,

while werden indicates mere entran ce into a state. When wetranslate : “

Er ist lange im Gefangnis gewesen” by “

He was

in prison for a long time”we look at the thought from the

English point of View . The German actually says : “He gotinto prison for a long period .

”

In contrast to their usual fondness for haben Hollandersand North Germans at one point use sein where South Germans employ haben, namely in case of anfangen and in Dutchalso in cas e of afnemen, toenemen, beginnen :

“Zijn krachten

zij n weer toegenomen” “

seine Krafte haben wieder zu

genommen”

. Professor Kern does not call attention to thisdevelopment in literary German . The writer gives two ex

amples of this usag e with anfangen in his“Grammar”

, p .

296. He has since found another : “Wie ich schon sagte,

1 80 Gam e

ist man erst in den letzten Jahren angefangen, von dem Kloster das zu retten und zu erhalten , was noch zu erreten und

zu erhalten ist”(O. E . Kiesel in Hamburger Nachrichten,

F eb . 1 3,

This common Dutch and Low German con

s truction is beginning to affect literary North German . Thisuse of sein in a section of the country partial to haben is

explained by the s imple fact that these forms were originallypassive : Du hast natiirlich nicht daran gedacht , dass gestern die Pfingstferein angefangen sind

”(F rennsen

’s

“Die

drei Getreuen,” chap . II ) . Here angefangen sind is probably

the perfect tens e of a mutative intransitive,but it is also the

common North German perfect passive and may possiblyperform this function here as the subject of the verb is a

thing,but such forms can only be in terpreted as mutative

intransitive perfects where the subject of the verb is a per

son ,as in the sentence quoted above from the North German

writer O. E . Kiesel . Thus both North and South Germanyare contributing to the spread of sein and the mutative idea.

The English mind, on the other hand , began in the MiddleEnglish period to manifest a disregard for the mutative idea.

Professor Kern gives no reas on for this development . The

present writer explains it by a desire for a clearer express ionof the idea of tense. The colorless has was a more appropriateform for this purpos e than is , which is too closely associatedwith present time to denote past time clearly : “

he has oftencome too late”

,

“he has fallen more than once”

,

“he has often

gone to town on stormy days ”. Thus English has developed

more sharply than German and Dutch the idea of tense.

Every verb in the language assumes the same form to denotethe same tense.

GEORGE O. CURME .

Northwestern University .


1 82 Goebel

Gedichte Walthers im 39 . Bande der Z eits chrift fur deuts ches A ltertumkennt, der muss beklagen, das s es ihm iiber der aufreibenden Arbeitan Grimms Wtirterbuch nicht vergbnnt war, selbst eine Ausgabe des

Dichters zu bieten, der ihm neben der Gudrun und dem Volkslied der

t epunkt unserer alten nationalen Poesie erschien. In HildebrandsBibliothek, die ich vor Jahren fiir die Stanford U nivers itat erwerbenhalf, befindet sich ein Exemplar von Pfeifl

’ers erster Waltheraus gabe,

iibe rsat mit Bemerkungen von Hildebrands Hand . Auf dem Vorsatzblatt hat er wehmutig eingetragen :

“Dies Exemplar ist, aus dem Bande

geris sen, in Wien gewesen um Pfeifi‘

ern zur 2. Ausgabe zu dienen . Ich

schickte j e 5 Bogen, die ich zu dem Zwecke friih vor der Schule [H .

war damals noch Gymnasiallehrer] durchging, alle Wochen eine Sendunghin . N ach Pfeifi’

ers Tode hab ich mirs von der Wittwe zuruckerbeten

und neu binden lassen. Viel Miihe mit wenig Erfolg wieder einmal.Pfeiffer hatte sich auf der Heidelberger Philologenversammlung 1 86 5

meine Bemerkungen zu seinem Wal ther erbeten.

”

Auch Hildebrands Handexemplar von Wilmanns erster Ausgabe, dasmir die F amilie giitigst zur V erfiigung stellte, enthalt eine F iille feinsinniger Bemerkungen, von denen ich gelegentlich Einiges mitzuteilenhofl

‘

e .

J . G .

ZU WALTHER VON DER VOGELWEIDEUnsere genauere Kunde des lyrischen Dichtens , des Ge

sanges von L iedern ,beginnt nicht vor der Mitte des 12 . Jahr

hunderts , um die Zeit als die Wirkung der Kreuzziige nachDeutschland heruberreichrte. Manche nehmen schon da fran

ziisischen Einflus s an,wie auch Wilmanns in der E inleitung

zu seiner Ausgabe von Walther von der Vogelweide (1 869S . 1 ) zu tun scheint, oder doch Einfluss des neumodischen

R ittertums . Aber der Kiirenberger, die°

altesten L ieder Dietmars von Eis t und der Spervogel zeigen noch nichts franzosisches

,das s ind rein deutsche Bluten ,

die einen glanzendenAnfang machen zu einer Entwickelung

,die eben abgeri ssen

oder doch abgelenkt wird durch den fremden Einfius s .

1

Der trat ein vom Westen her um 1 1 70 am N iederrhein mitHeinrich von Veldeke

,der doch mehr als Epiker wirkte, und

gleichzeitig am Mittelrhein oder sudlicher mi t Friedrich von

Hausen,der den h5 chsten politischen Kreisen angehiirte, ein

1 Dieser fremde E influs s wird nun von W. Scherer einzig als unserHeil gepriesen und Wilmanns in seinem Buche “

L eben und DichtenWalthers” tritt ihm nach ! Man vergleiche was er auf S . 28 uber Kiirnbergers Kunst zu sagen hat, neben dem, was er auf S . 26 behauptet.

Z u Walther Von Der Vogelweide 183

Begleiter Heinrichs VI. in Italien . Er fiel 1 190 im Morgen

lande.

Weiter Reinmar der Alte,wahrscheinlich aus Hagenau ,

der

uns zuerst die Ueberwindung des fremden Einfiusses zeigt , diedoch sehr rasch eingetreten ist. Er ist der unmittelbare Vorganger Walthers und ohne Zweifel in persohnlicher Beriihrungmit ihm gewesen . Auch er ist 1 1 94 in Oestreich nachzuweisen

(Klagelied auf den Tod Leopolds VI . , MP 1 67,31 fl ) .

Aber erst bei Walther von der Vogelweide ist die Ueberwindung des fremden Anstoss es vollzogen ,

die neue oder junge

vollendete Form mit dem Inhalt einer bedeutenden N atur aus

gefiillt. Er zuers t ist vbllig Herr geworden iiber Vorbild undNachahmung

,bei ihm steht Vollendetes vor uns

,als ware es

selbwahsen (auroaué g) . Natii rlich in den Bedingungen seiner

Zeit, aber doch noch dariiber hinaus .

Der Inhalt ist freilich anders als wir ihn «fiir uns be

friedigend, erfii llend finden wiirden,das Seelenleben gerade

im L iebesleben war damals ein anderes , als es wesentlich seit

Klopstock und Goethes Werther in uns eren Bildungskreisen

ist : auf einer Seite kindlicher, einfacher, anspruchsloser, aufder anderen unkindlich

,iibercultivirt, anspruchsvoller (bi

ligen ) , einer Mode unterworfen 9 die mit ganzer Gewalt dieSeelen der Gebildeten beherrs chte, wie es im 1 8 . Jahrhundert

z. B . auch die Empfindsamkeit tat. Aber bei Walther geradeers cheint di ese Mode durch den

‘

weitgreifenden Gedanken ver

arbeitet und zurecht gelegt , der das Gauze ins Auge fass t .

9 U nd doch bei Walther auch tiefste Innigkeit, wie z. B . im F olgen

den ( 5 2, 35 )mochte ich ir die stemen gar,

manen uncle sunnen,

zeigene han gewunnen,

daz waer ir, so ich iemer wol gevar.kindlichste Empfanglichkeit, wie z. B . 1 1 5 , 22

Als ich under wilen zir gesitze,

86 S i mich mit ir reden lat,

$6 benimt si mir 5 6 gar die witze,daz mir der lip alumne gat.

Swenne ich iezuo wunder rede kan,sihet si mi ch einest an,

36 han ichs vergezzen,

was wolde ich dar gesezzen ?

1 84 Goebel

Es ist eine Theorie darauf gebaut , die in der Minne,wie s ie

nun einmal war , den Grundstein oder Schlussstein zu einemGebaude der Gesellschaft sucht und erkennt.

3 Was daneben

das Volk 4sang

,das ahnen wir nur aus Spuren

,wie Walthers

Lindenlied ,es war wol den L iedern des Kii rnbergers ahn

licher als denen Reinmars oder Walthers .

Aber in der Form offenbarte s ich damals eine Vollendung,wie nie wieder und wie heute nicht mehr moglich , j a uns

eigentlich unvors tellbar. Die deuts che Sprache ers cheint hierin ihrem F estkleide wie as ihre N atur nur immer mbglichmacht oder mit s ich bringt . Dieser kunstvolle Aufbau der

Strophen ,deren letzter Kunstwert ohne die Weise nicht zu

ermessen ist,die Bildung der Gesatze nach verschiedener

Lange der Zeilen ,nach manigfachster Stellung und Beziehung

der Reime aufeinander,diese Reinheit der Reime, dieser Auf

bau von 3 oder 5 Strophen zu einem Ganzen—und das alles

nur vom Ohr zu fassen,nicht vom Auge wie wir es tun—das

alles setzt einen Kuns ts inn bei den Sangern wie bei den

Hbrern voraus , der fiir uns ein hoch uber uns stehendes Ideal

ist.

Denn gesungen , gehort nur ward diese L iederdichtung ,

noch nicht gelesen—auch das ein Zustand , den wir uns fiir

Kunstdichtung kaum vorstellen kiinnen . Und doch gibt es

auch fiir un s Ahnliches , dass wir einmal , zumal in den Jiinglingsj ahren ,

ein L ied nur hiirend, nur gesungen kennen

lernen , das s Wort und Weise so zu einem verwachsen an uns

und in uns kommen ,das s es uns fast unmoglich ist s ie aus

einander zu reissen . Das Wort bringt uns von selbst die

Weise mit , dieWeis e das Wort, sobald wir an eins von beiden

nur denken . Waren das nur immer bessere L ieder als s ie ge

wohnlich sind !So war denn auch Dichter

,Sanger und Tonsetzer damals

‘ Wurde doch in Griechenland die Paderastie so philosophisch ethischzurechtgelegt.

‘ N eque enim secundum vestrates (die Deutschen ) habet canticapopulus romanae linguae dabat pro cantu lacrymas plebsignara canendi. Bericht von der R eise des heil. Bernhard, Januar 1 1 47bei Hofi

‘

mann, K . L . S . 40. Gerhoh von Re ichersperg 1 1 69 ) im

Commentar zu den Psalmen freut sich des geistlichen Gesanges , maxime

in Teutonieis, quorum lingua mag is apta es t conciwnis can ticis .


1 86 Collings

THE LANGUAGE OF FREYTAG ’S “DIE AHNEN .

”

In the study of modern literature a great deal has been

done during the past few years in presenting to us a clearer

and more comprehens ive View of literature as a whole,and

in giving a more accurate and detailed description of a certainperiod and its characteristics . Much has been done too in

the history of literature by the many excellent biographiesof individual writers , as these often contain new and valuable

criticisms of the best known works of the various authors .

There seems , however, to be a large field for investigation into the peculiarities of an author ’

s language and style, as they

appear growing and developing through all his works , or as

these peculiarities appear at some particular period of his

life, or in some particular work . Such a s tudy is to literature

what a study of technique is to painting .

Heinrich von Kleist wrote on April 25,1 81 1

, to Fouque

Die Ers cheinung, die em meisten bei der Be

trachtung eines Kunstwerks riihrt,dunkt mich

, ist nicht das

Werk selbst , sondern di e Eigentiimlichkeiten des Geistes , deres hervorbrachte, und der sich in unbewusster Freiheit undL ieblichkeit , darin entfaltet . ” However interesting or valu

able a work may be to the general reading public , to the historian of literature and the literary critic the “

Eigentiiml ich

keiten des Geis tes ”as they appear in the work, are of more

importance than the finished product . 1 The peculiar characteristics of an author as they appear in his works differentiate

him from the great mass of writers . As Button has said :“Le s tyle

,c ’est l ’homme.

”

We know that a certain writer created certain new express

ions , or used them for the first time in literature. But how

many did he so use, and how often ? Are these expressions whichhave become permanent in literature ? Are the peculiarities

of an author those of his age, or did he employ certain pe

cul iarities of language and style for a specific purpose ? If

so, with what success ? Such a detailed s tudy of the language

and style of various authors should be of great value in giving‘ Cf. Saintsbury—Essays in English L iterature, 1 780-1 860. Intro

The Language of F reytag’s

“Die Ahnen”

1 87

the necessary. information for making comparison of vari ous

s tyles , of outlining definitely an author ’s original ity in vocab

ulary and s tyle, and in analyzing his qualities as pioneer or

imitator. The following paper is a study of the peculiaritiesin the language of Gustav Freytag ’

s Die Ahnen .

Gustav Freytag (1 81 6-1895 ) wrote his series of historicalnovels , Die Ahnen ,

during the years 1 872-1 880. (Vol . I

Ingo und Ingraban ,1 872 ; Vol . II Das N est der Zaunkiinige,

1 874 ; Vol. III Die Briider vom deutschen Hause, 1 87 5 ; Vol .IV Marcus K6nig, 1876 ; Vol. V Die Geschwister, 1 878 : Vol.VI Aus einer kleinen Stadt, Externally the work is a

series of historical novels , each having a separate plot and

each plot dealing with a separate period. (Vol. I Part I

35 7 A . D . ; Part 2—724 ; Vol. II 1003 ; Vol . III 1 226 ; Vol.

IV 1 5 1 9 ; Vol . V 1 647 and 1 721 ; Vol . VI According

to Freytag ’s idea, however, the work is a history of the Ger

man people and their civilization ,written in a series of chap

ters . L ike Willibald Alexis , and especially like Scott,whom

our author looked upon as his master, Freytag thought of thehistory of his people as a un it , and. the various historical movements as manifes tations of different characteristics of thisunified people. The idea of unity and continuity in the his

tory of his people led him to write Die Ahnen .

9 The work

essays to portray the history of a single fami ly, the variousmembers of which are bound together during succeeding generations by constan tly recurring similarities in physiognomy,character and fate.

In speaking of Die Ahnen in an explanatory note appended

to the final volume of the series , Freytag calls the series “a

symphony in whose eight parts , (Vol . I and Vol. V each con

tain two parts ) a melodic theme is varied, carried on,and

interwoven with others , in such a manner that the several

“The editions of Die Ahnen from which quotations are made in thisstudy, are as follows : V ol. I. 38. Aufl. 1 908 ; V ol. II. 31 . 1 907 ; V ol.

III. 26. 1 908 ; V ol. IV . 21 . 1 906 ; V ol. V . 21 . 1 907 ; V 0] . V I. 1 9 .

1 908. Published by Hirzel, Leipzig. A careful comparison of thisthirty—eighth edition of V ol. I. with a copy of the first edition showsthat absolutely no changes have been made.

“Cf. Meyer—Deutsche L iteratur des 1 9 . Jahrhunderts . S . 403.

1 88 Collings

parts un ited cons titute a whole. This melodi c thememeans to Freytag continuity of life and its various interests .

This continuity of life and its interests had been impressedupon Freytag whi le he was preparing the material for his“Bilder aus der deuts chen Vergangenheit, ” which he used as

bas ic studies for Die Ahnen .

The fact that Freytag portrays in this work German life

of certain centuries or periods - many of which were far re

mote from his own—naturally led him to peculiarities of

language and style which often become very marked. These

peculiarities in language and style are often the local coloringby which the author portrays the age which he treats . Whetherthese are always used successfully and with the best taste willbe cons idered later .

FOREIGN WORDS

The first topic treated in the study of Die Ahnen is the au

thor ’s use of foreign words . This is not by any means the

only work of Freytag where the attention of the reader is

at once called to the use of foreign words . Hager in the

Introduction to his edition of Aus dem Staat Friedrichs des

Grossen 4says : “

As regards Dr. Freytag ’s style

there is only one feature in it to which exception might betaken ,

via, to the frequent use of foreign words . There is no

objection to words of foreign origin which pas sed at an early

stage into the language of the people and thus shared in the

changes by which Teutonic words have been affected

There are,however, in the essay many words of for

eign origin for which German has equivalen ts still in ordinary

use, and for which there is therefore no necessity, even though

long use may have made us familiar with many of them.

”In

compiling a lis t of foreign words used by an author one must

naturally ask,

“What constitutes a foreign word in German “3”

A great many words now existing in the German language,and in current use, were once thoroughly foreign but have be

come so completely Germanized that they betray no trace of

the foreign in accent,inflection or spelling . In making a list

of the foreign words in Die Ahnen , the question as to whether

‘ D . C . Heath Co . 1 908 .


90 Collings

occurs ) no attempt was made to show how many times a par

ticular word occurs . Many of these words occur a number of

times, especially in Vol . V,but only the first instance is

counted .

The complete list of foreign words contains 1344 words,

with the largest number coming from the French, the next

largest from the Latin . Words are also found from Greek,Italian ,

Arabic , Polish and Russ ian . The complete lis t contains ninety-seven verbs in Freytag seems particu

larly fond of such verbs in Vol . V,dealing with the seven

teenth and eighteen th centuries—a period in which one woul d

natural ly expect to see strong French influence. As ide fromthese verbs in -i (s )ren the words used are principally nouns ,

abstract nouns in -tion being common .

Freytag has des ignedly omi tted or used foreign words inthe vari ous volumes to portray faithfully the lingu istic characteri stics of the period with which the volume deals . In

Vol . I which deals with the fourth century, there occur inthe first part “

Ingo”only 10 foreign words , in the second

part “Ingraban

”26

,making a total of only 36 in 5 14 pp . In

Vol . V which deals , as stated above, with the seventeenth

and eighteenth centuries , there occur 5 00 foreign words

mostly from the French—in 436 pp . This reckoning— takingaccount as it does of only the first occurrence of a foreignword—hardly presents in its full mean ing the great differ

ence between Vol. I and Vol . V in this respect . An actual

count of every occurrence of a foreign word in Vol. V would

raise the number here given by some hundreds . Thus Frey

tag succeeded in giving to V0] . V the foreign French flavor

which so pervaded the literature of that age. In the matter

of his characters too, Freytag has taken care that foreign

words should be used principally by only such characters as

would naturally us e them . Henner and the s cholars e. g .

in Vol. 1 11 (Cf. p . 70) with their Latin training use many

of them,while in that same volume they are much more rare

in the speech of the common people.

Regarding the general use of foreign words in Die Ahnenone may say positively that Freytag was not careful to avoid


“Die Ahnen”1 91

the use of them . His use of words in hi s writings is carefuland exact so that he is often quoted by lexicographers , buthe many times uses a foreign word when a German word

would have expressed the same idea. Many of the foreignwords found here were not current in the decade duringwhich Freytag wrote these novels . Two importan t reasonsmay be advanced for the use of many foreign words . Firs t ,Freytag was a trained student of Latin . He had studied theearly history of the drama 9

and its development throughthe Middl e Ages ; he had given much time during his lifeto the study of historical records and chronicles .

7 In suchdocuments he mus t natural ly have become acquainted witha large number of foreign words of Latin origin . Secondly,the scenes described often cal l for foreign words . The au

thor had lived a large part of his life near the Polish borderand many of the scenes of the novels presented life as the

writer had seen it in his youth . Such des criptions makemany words , more or less foreign ,

not only natural but nec

essary. The Crus ades , life in the East , descriptions of East

ern civilization called for a vocabulary that must needs becomposed of words not of Teuton ic origin .

Freytag is usual ly regarded as a purist in s tyle. Hé sel

dom wrote without giving careful attention to the words

which he employed . His style con tains few’

mannerisms .

Clearness is certainly one of i ts characteristics . If clearness

could best be attained by the use of a foreign word , Freytag

seldom hes itated to employ it. He uses foreign words in

Die Ahnen with di scrimination , as shown above, and often

obtains through them a local coloring,a milieu

,which no

other expedient in the use of language could have producedfor him . His use of foreign words in Die Ahnen is j ustifiable.

In order to give some idea of the kind of foreign wordsused here by Freytag a specimen lis t of ten words from Vol .

II-V~I is presented. As Vol . I,Part I contains only 10

di fferent foreign words the complete list is g iven .

‘ Cf. F reytag’s thesis : De initiis scenicae poesis apud Geramos . Ber

lin, 1 838 .

7 F reytag’s Bilder aus der deutschen Vergangenheit were written

( 1 8 5 9-1 867) j ust before Die Ahnen.

1 92 Collings

Vol . I. Bronze I, 249 ; Bussard 1 7 5 ; Metall 38 ; Nos ter

pater 1 66 ; Protector 247 ; purpurrot 5 0, (two other com

pounds of purpur, Purpurzeichen 5 9,Purpurbild Tra

bant 81 ; Vers 81 . Except in the case of Protector p . 247

no German word could exactly replace the ideas expressed

in these words . In the case of sixteen at leas t of the 26 different foreign words found in Vol . I, Part 2 , no thoroughly Ger

man word could well be used .

Vol . II. Ambrosianum II,1 14 ; Convent 48 ; Dekan 4 ;

Dialecktik 48 ; Dispens 1 97 Ductus 1 1 ; Gallerie 1 6 ; Grammatik 48 ; Hora 2 5 ; Kapsel 370.

Vol . III. Alarm III,232 ; Asylrecht 218 ; Ceder 290;

Chevalier 1 96 ; Collier 1 96 ; Devoir 89 ; Elephant 263 ; Kathedrale 349 .

Vol . IV . Kreatur IV ,288 ; Mandat 1 5 1 ; memoriren 78 ;

Musikant 74 ; Obscurant 1 76 ; Pré dicant 1 8 5 ; Procent 5 1 ;

protestiren 1 89 ; Recept 1 2 ; Scriptor 5 6 .

Vol . V . AdOptiren V ,406 ; Affection 379 Alteration 425 ;

arrogant 25 6 ; Censur 25 8 ; Commandeur 41 8 ; Commilito 25 ;Communication 323 ; dispensiren 384 ; Domes tik 295 ; Gony erneur 387 . As will be readily seen any one of these words

from Vol. V could be replaced by a thoroughly German wordwith no loss of exactness in meaning . Of the 5 00 foreign

words in this volume less than one-fifth are words withoutexact German equivalents .

Vol. VI. Francaise V ,1 69 ; illuminiren 5 ; Invalide 306 ;

Jubilaum 35 0; Kanoe 1 89 ; konservieren 361 ; konfiideriren

292 ; Material 41 ; Modell 1 83 ; parliren 75 .

The foreign phrases used throughout the volumes are not

numerous and show no particular tendency on the part of

the writer. The following table shows the number of such

phras es used in Die Ahnen,and the language from which

they come '

I II 1 11 IV v VI Total

6 1 2 4 1 5 6 1 44

1 1

2

1


1 94 Collings

-A cons ideration and comparison of the proper names whichFreytag gives to the characters of the first seventy pages of

Volumes I and VI will give an excellent idea of the di stinctatmosphere which Freytag would create for his novels by

means of proper names . That the events of Vol . I are sup

posed by the writer to have occurred in the year 35 7 A . D. ,

and those of Vol . VI in 1 805 is very clearly indicated in a

general way by the names of the characters .

Vol. I. Answald p . 7,Irmfried 7 , Bisino 7 , Frida 1 1 , Irm

gard 1 1,Hildebrand 1 8 , Hnodomar 1 9, Athanarich 1 9 , Gun

drun 21,Ingo 21

,Ingbert 21

,Siegfried 24

,Theodulf 28, Isan

bart 36,A imo 5 0

,Arnfried 5 0

,Archimbald 5 1

,Eggo 5 1

,

Bero 65,Albwin 66, Turibert 68 .

Vol . VI. Baron Hille p . 10,Kapitan von Buskow 12

,Hen

riette 28 , Kathe 29, Barbel 31 , L iesel 31 , (Mamsell ) Jettchen35

,Katharine 39

, (Herr ) Beblow 45, Christian 5 0, Hans 5 4,

(Herr ) Hutzel 5 7 , Kapit'

an Dessale 61 , Meister Schilling 63,Steinmetz 64.

In using such names as those given from Vol. I,Freytag is

always careful to give to a character a name which befitshis office, or part in the plot . Many even of the minor characters bear names which well suit their words and actions . In

Vol . I Answald is equivalent to Grod-prince,

1 0 Hildebrand,Battle sword, Gundrun ,

Battle enchantress,Ingbert , Noble

divine,Siegfried , Bringer of peace through Victory, Theo

dulf,Folk-wolf—all of which represent quite exactly quali

ties of character,or the office of the individual in the plot .

Sometimes a name has both a Germanized and a Latin form,

as Pancraz IV,63

,Pancratius IV ,

31 5 ; Gregor V ,391

,Gre

gorius IV ,1 6 . The double name

,i . e. Christian name and

surname, occurs for the first time in Bertram Schultheiss III,88 .

ARCHAISMS

In a series of novels like these, which portray the life of

the people of earlier centuries one would naturally expect tofind archaic language. It is one of the most effective means of

1 °Deriva‘tions and meanings here given are taken from Heintze, Al

bert—Die deutsche F amiliennamen. 3. Aufl. Halle, 1 908 ; and L etzner

N amenbuch. 2 Aufl. Leipzig, 1 894.


“Die Ahnen”

195

putting the reader into the atmosphere of that earlier time.

Archaic language is distinctly characteristic of these volumes ,especially the first two.

On the question of Freytag ’

s success in the use of archaicfeatures in Die Ahnen critics have difiered widely . Adolf

Stern 1 1 writes regarding this work : “Ohne allzustarke Ar

chaismen klingen die Geschichten aus der Zeit der V iilkerwanderung und der ers ten Verkiindi gung der christlichenLehre auf deuts chem Boden ,

der Empfindung und dem Ton

unserer alten Dichtung nach . It seems much better, however, to agree with those who believe that Freytag has failedof the highest success in the use of archaic features here.

Meyer 1 2 writes besonders die Anfangsbande

von Freytags Ahnen haben durch ihr (d . h . der Archaismen”

)Ubermas s sogar den Spott heraus gefordert

Grottschall 1 3 believes : “Ingo (Vol. I ) ist leider durch Archais

men entstellt . ” He calls the style “undeutsch”

(p.

Such criticisms are too severe, though the archaic features inthe earliest volumes attract the reader ’

s attention to such an

extent as to make the style appear labored, especially in the

word order and the use of archaic words . Cf.

“Ich trage

Kunde, die das Herz der Manner bewegt, nicht weiss ich ,oh sie Freude bereitet oder Trauer (I, and

“ Spende

wegemiidem Mann den Trunk aus deinem Born (I,Freytag himself , in his Erinnerungen

,

1 4 discusses carefully

this use of archaic words and word order,stating that this

style came to him naturally in the description of the life of

the earlier periods .

The archaic features are here presented under four cap

tions— (1 )Archaic forms , (2 )Archaic meanings , (3) Archaicconstructions , (4) Obsolete or obsolescent words .

(1 ) ARCHAIC FORMS1 5

Verbs z—Many times the older forms of verbs occur whereN . H . G. would use a more modern form, as bedr

'

aut I, 1 1 3,n Stern, A .

—Die deutsche N ationalliteratur S . 1 1 4. 5 . Aufl. 1 905 .

1”Meyer, R . M.—Deutsche Stylistik . S . 8 .

1”Gottschal l—Deutsche N ationalliteratur des 1 9 . Jhts . II, 432 .

“ G . F reytag—Erinnerungen. L eipzig, 1 887 . S . 363 if.1“The list below quotes only a single example in most cases, though

1 96 Collings

beut I,1 5 6

,gebeut VI

,265

,brimmend for brummend

, ein

brimmender Bar I, 5 2 . Of. M. H . G. and M. E . brimmen .

daucht I,71 . Verb forms like lud, ward , frug etc

,are not

regarded as distinctly archaic features in Die Ahnen, as such

forms are common in literature.

Nouns z—Vor Abends I, 10 for Vor Abend . Fels as dative

in, auf steilem Fels III, 335 . Rare as dative. Cf . Ourme,

Grammar p . 74 . Gemahl for Gemahlin III, 60; das Ehegemahlfor die Gemahlin III, 64. Gurt for later Giirtel I

,86 ; Leib

gurt I,337 . Der Quell for later die Quelle I, 1 36 . Wittfrau

forWittwe V ,25 7 . The archaic Wittib does not occur. Plural

of Jahr in same form as singular II, 30.

Adjectives z—Occasional weak endings where we should ex

pact strong. Dies Wenige I,332 . Mehre always for mehrere.

Cf. I,1 99 et al. Peinvoll I, 25 6 for modern peinlich .

Adverbs z—Abseit I, 5 7 for abseits (Abseit a seventeenthcentury form according to Grimm) . Allerdinge II, 406 for

allerdings . N iemalen IV,284. Strack (biblical word ) IV ,

100 rare as adverb .

Numerals z— The numerals zwei , drei , and Vier are fre

quently inflected throughout the plural . Cf. zweier Stiere

III,1 24 ; dreien Kiinigen II

,361 .

ARCHAIC MEANINGS 1“

Verbs :—Bessern for verbessern ,ausbess ern I 1 1 7

,460, 5 04

et al ; denken for zudenken ,Wenn du mir Ubles

gedacht has t I, 188 . einen feindselig denken for gegen einenfeindselig ges innt sein II, 26 . fahren used to express variousmotions and modes of travel whether by vehicle or other

wis e und doch fuhr die Keule zuruck

wenn dein Zorn feindlich hinter mir fahrt II 1 92 ,obgleich du

many times a great many might be quoted . N or does this list giveone example of every archaic peculiarity noted . Of the completelist collected the following show the character of the archaisms.

11“In connection with the discussion of the archaic meanings of

words and the choice of special words, a very careful and painstakinglist for V ol. I I is given by Ro edder and Handschin in their recentedition of

“Das N est der Zaunkb

’

nige”pp. 235 -242 . D . C . Heath Co .

1 9 1 2.


198 Collings

AR CHAIC CONSTRUCTIONS

Freytag shows a tendency to use verbs with a case whichthey formerly governed (especially the genitive) instead of

the modern accusative. The following are regularly found

with the genitive : achten , begehren ,denken

,erinnern

,freu

en,geniessen ,

s ich gewé hnen ,harren

,lachen

, schonen ,vergess

en, walten , warten . Hangen and the preposition an With the

dative for abh'

angen von occur in,So weit es an dem Willen

der N achbarn h'

angt I, 223. bitten with a direct object instead

of um,Wer gewiihnt ist, fremdes Gewand zu bitten I

,28 9 .

s ich neigen with dative for sich vor jemand verneigen I,1 2 .

wehren for usual s ich wehren I,5 1 .

OBSOLETE OR OBSOLESCENT WORDSThere occur here many obsolete or obsolescent words whichgive to the narrative an archaic tinge. Bandigen for hin

dern,fesseln II

,384 ; blinzen for blinzeln I

,1 90; ehelichen

for heiraten V,25 7 ; Born I

,1 8 ; Brautlauf for Hochzeit I,

1 69 ; E idam for Schwiegersohn I,1 68 ; Elend in its original

mean ing of foreign land ”I,1 7 ; Gerstange, Cf . M. H . G.

ger ; Met I,26 ; Minne III, 1 5 ; Unhold for Teufel I

,425 ;

Walstatt for Schlachtfeld I, 10 et al. ; reisemude I, 1 5 3 ; wege

miide I, 1 2 ; traun I, 76 ; weiland IV ,335 dreissig und ein I,

342 . One might mention here the use of such epithets as

langhaarig I,314

,pfeilschnell III, 1 90. Langhaarig is well

applied to the early Germans but its us e as a descriptive epi

thet may eas ily have been in imitation of Homer. Cf . Odyssey

II,7 et al. Pfeilschnell is also an Homeric epithet .

As ide from these specific archaic features there are more

general ones which tend to give both style and content an

archaic tone. These are most common in the earliest volumes .

In some cases they seem artificial 1 7 though literary criticshave recognized such means as legitimate when used with

discretion .

1 8 The following list includes some of the most im

portan t : Description of customs characteristic of early Ger

man life,more or less definite reference to early German

mythology,des cription of early German weapons (Cf. Keule,

1" L indau, H . Gustav F reytag. Leipzig, 1 907. S . 1 94.

18 Seiler, F r. Gustav F reytag. L eipzig, 1 898 . S . 1 79 if .


“ Die Ahnen”

1 99

Gé r ) ; the names of animals common to the period . Such

features transplant the reader directly into the time of the

narrative and are more effective than even archaic words or

word order.

One might naturally conclude these observations on archa

isms by s tating that there are certain rather common archaicwords and forms which do not appear at all in Die Ahnen .

So is neither found as a relative, nor used for the con j unc

tion wenn ; denn is not used for als after comparatives , nor

do da or its compoun ds occur with relative force. Obsolete

preterit forms like sahe in the third singular are not found,and the un infiected neuter adjective is rare. Forms likejetzo, Wittib , dieweil , empfahen ,

jedwede,schier, do not occur .

L IEBL IN GSWORTER

Though Freytag ’s style is characterized by

'

few manner

isms, yet he does show in the work under discuss ion a marked

fondness for particular words and particular kinds of words .

These favorites appear so frequently that they become quitemonotonous , as when versetzen is used in the sense of

“ah

swer,”or

“ reply”two or three times on a s ingle page. Cf.

I. 125,1 32

,1 33

,134

,139

,1 5 3

,1 5 4

,1 5 5

,1 5 8

,1 62

,1 65

,1 66 ,

1 67,1 68

,17 1

,178

,1 80

,1 84

,1 86

,1 88

,1 92

,1 94

,1 95

,1 96 .

This is true of such verbs as kranken and dr'

angen . The

verb bergen occurs in Die Ahn en with great frequency and

has a variety of meanings . Besides its use to convey the ideaof concealing, hiding or covering

,it is used in the sense of

ubertragen ,unterbringen

,einstecken ,

verbergen,verheimlich

en etc.

The following list (without citing references or number of

instances , or any details ) gives some of the more strikingof the favorite words and phrases .

Verbs z—Behaupten ,bergen

,drangen

,kranken

,spenden

(used often where we might expect only geben ,used also for

schenken , erteilen , vers chaffen ) , verderben ,versetzen . Frey

tag often uses here a simple verb where we should most cer

tainly expect a compound one,as e. g . (ab ) fangen , (auf)

fordern , (er )greifen ,(ver )handeln , (ein ) laden ,

Collings

(ver )mindern , (ver )wehren , (zuruck )werfen where the prefix is regularly omitted in Die Ahnen .

Nouns z—Certain compound nouns are of remarkable fre

queney of occurrence. Compounds With Herr (en ) are nu

merous . Cf. Herrenax t,-bank

,-feind, -grund

,-metall , -wunde,

-zins etc. in Which the element Herr (en ) seems to have little

specific force ; numerous compounds with Himmel with HofWith Holz Compounds with Mann (es ) Mens chen Mann

er are especially s triking . In Vol I for example, Manner

erde occurs twenty-nine times for world,

” Menschenerde

three times , while the word Welt occurs but seven times inthe Whole volume. These compounds of Manner and Mens chen were Without doubt used that the language might appearmore like that used by the early Germans . Of. 0. H . G.

mank (ch )unni for Mens chengeschlecht ; Gothic manaséps ,Welt . Cf . also the Icelandic compounds in matSrAmong the L ieblingsworter one may well mention certain

adjectives . In this work the author shows great fondnessfor the power of the adjective.

1 9 Many adjectives (the formbeing compounded by the author in some cas es ) bear thebrunt of the meaning of their phrases . Cf . aalgleich III, 17

esslustig III, 1 63, fadenscheinig I, 425 , flachskiipfig I, 144,

gliickverheissend III,207

, gramdurchtfurcht III, 90 hemdsarmelig I, 1 44. The adjectives ansehnlich

,vierschriitig and

compounds in ~selig are conspicuous because of their frequentuse. F or the same reason the following phrases (or slightvari ations of them) are noticeable : aufs neue, ins Freie, ingestrecktem Laufe, mit gefiiigelten Schritten ,

mit gefalteten

Handen .

PHRASESFrom early German times down to the present , combina

tions of two nouns (or sometimes other parts of speech ) , connected by und, have been common to the language. In many

of these combinations the meaning of the individual wordshas been merged into the meaning of the phrase. Cf . German ,

Mann und Maus ; English , Chick and child . Such phrases”Cf. Meyer—Deutsche Stylistik S . 5 0.

“F reytags Verwendung der

Bildung neuer Beiwiirter. Cf. also, Schonbach, A . S .—Gesammelte

Aufs'

zitze. S . 6 5 .


202 Bmun

MARGARET FULLER ’S TRAN SLATION AND CRITI

CISM OF GOETHE ’S TASSO.

F ew persons in America knew much of Goethe during the

third and fourth decades of the las t century, and a part of

these—among them some of our mos t prominent writerswere awhile bitterly opposed to him. Goethe was accused of

being irreligious and rather loose in his morals . N one of

the French writers , though introduced much earlier into this

country, when the religious rigor was even stronger, ever

sufiered to such an extent from being mi sunderstood and

misinterpreted . It is an interesting study to observe how

Goethe gradually grew in the estimation of our best thinkers

during this period , un til they accorded him the place he now

occupies among the world ’s greatest poets .

One of the first advocates of Goethe,and doubtless the

strongest and most influential among them during this time,was Margaret Fuller . F ew had ever understood Goethe as

well or profited so much by a thorough and sympatheticstudy of his works as she. As a prominent member in a lit

erary circle of young men and women with open minds, as

editor of the Dial and leader in the“Conversations ” which

she held in Boston for five years she had ample opportunityto impress her thoughts of Goethe upon those who, along

with her,were then the

“

leaders of thought in N ew England .

Her articles on Goethe and his works in the Dial (Boston ,

though tinged here and there by the rigorous spiritof the time and place, are certainly among the most carefully

studied and appreciative criticisms written of him .

Only two years after Margaret Full er commenced the

study of German she began to translate for her friends and

for publication ,certain works from the original . From Goethe

she trans lated Tasso, the first two volumes of Eckermann ’s

Conversations with Goethe and a number of short poems,

besides a cons iderable number of. pages of quotations from

other works,which she used in her criticisms .

1L The most im

portan t of these is her translation of Tasso. According to1 F or a di scussion of a number of the translations mentioned above,

see Braun, Margaret F u ller and Goethe , N ew York, 1 910, pp. 21 6-241 .

Margaret F uller’s Trans lation of Goethe

’s

“Tasso 203

a letter written to F . H . Hedge in November 1 834, in whichshe expres sed the hope that Hedge and Emerson would look

over and help correct her manus cript , she must have translated this work .the same year. (Higginson ,

Margaret F uller

Ossoli, Boston ,1 884, p. 63) She failed , however, to find a pub

lisher and it did not appear in print until 1 860,when her

brother Arthur E . Fuller included it, after her death , in a vol

ume of her works entitled Art,L iterature and the Drama, with

a number of other papers by Margaret Ful ler previously published (1 846 ) under the title Papers on Literature and Art.

With what feelings Margaret Fuller translated this work isshown by a passage from her Memoirs (Vol . II, p. 105 )“ Beethoven ! Tasso ! It is well to think of you ! What sufferings from baseness , from coldness ! How rare and momentary

were the flashes of j oy ,of confidence and tenderness in these

noblest livesThat Margaret Ful ler understood the deep s ignificance of

the play in relation to Goethe ’s life is certain . It is a por

trayal of Goethe ’

s own moods and innermost feelings ,“for the poet is the only priest in the secrets of the

heart (Dial, Jan . 1 842 ) To me give a God to tell what I

suffer applies , she believed, as truly to Goethe’

s sufferings

as to Tasso’

s into whose mouth he put these words .

“You

say there is no likeness between Goethe and Tas so. N ever

believe it ; such pictures are not painted from observation

merely . That deep coloring which fills them with light and

life is given by dipping the brush in one’s own life-blood .

“The best criticism for the hearing of those that will hear is

one of those matchless scenes in which Goethe represents thesudden breezes of eloquence, the fitful shadings of mood

,and

the exquisite sensitiveness to all influences that made the

weakness and power of Tasso.

”(Dial, Boston ,

Jan . 1 842,and

L ife Without and Life Within, Boston ,1 85 9

, pp . 28 f . )

The central s ituation of Tasso, she notes in the intro

duction to her translation,

“the manner in which hi s com

pan ions draw him out, and are in turn drawn out by him,

the mingled generos ity and worldliness of the realist An tonio ,the mixture of taste

,feeling, and unconscious selfishness in

204 Braun

Alphonso, the more delicate but not less decided paintingof. the two Leonoras , the gradual but irresistible force bywhich the catas trophe is drawn down upon us concur to make

this drama a model of art, that art which Goethe worshippedever after he had exhaled his mental boyhood in Werther

It is , I believe, a novelty to see the mind of a

poet analyzed and portrayed by another,who however, shared

the inspiration only of his subject , saved from his weakness

by that superb balance of character in which Goethe sur

passes even Milton .

”(Art, Literature and the Drama—Bos

ton 1 860, p.

Goethe has described the position of the poetical mindin its prose relations We see what he felt must

be the result of entire abandonment to the highest nature.

We see why he valued himself on being able to understand theAl phonsos , and meet as an equal the Antonios of everyday

life Goethe had not from nature that character of self-reliance and self-control in which he so long ap

peared to the world . It was wholly acquired and so highlyvalued because he was conscious of the opposite tendency . He

was by nature as impetuous,though not as tender as Tasso

,

and the di sadvantage at whi ch this constantly placed him waskeenly felt by a mind made to appreciate the subtlest harmonies in all relations . Therefore was it that when he at las t castanchor

,he was so reluctan t again to trust himself to wave

and breeze.

”(Life Without and L ife Within,

Boston ,1 85 9

,

pp. 28 f . )

In presenting her translation of this very celebrated pro

duction of the first German writer, ” Margaret Ful ler di scuss

es and compares the two languages in ques tion . With a fin e

perception and feeling for the di stin ction between them she

writes of the high degree of perfection and the condensed

power of expression attained by the German language, dueto

“the rapid growth of German literature and the concurr

ence of so many mas ter spirits , all at once fashioning the

language into a medium for the communication of their

thoughts .

”

In the same connection she frankly calls attention to


206 Braun

Must give me claim to confidence—they shall.0 how did I deserve that she should choose me !

What shall I do to j ustify her choice ?Yet that cho ice speaks my worth. Yes, I am worthy,Since she could think me so . My soul is consecrate,

My princess, to thy words, thy looks . Whate’er

Thou wilt, ask of thy slave . In distant landsI

’ll seek renown with peril of my life,Or chant in every grove, thy charms and virtues .

Wholly possess the creature thou hast formed ;Each treasure of my soul is thine . I ne’

er can

Express my vast devotion with the penIn written words . Oh, could I but as sistThe poet’

s by the painter’s art ! Did honeyF all from my lips ! N ow never more shall IBe lonely, sad, or weak . Thou Wilt be with me.

Had I a squadron of the noblest men

To help me do thy bidding, some great deedShould j ustify the boldness of a tongue

Which dared to ask her grace ! I meant it not

I meant not to speak now. But it is well ;I take as a free gift what I could neverHave claimed . This glorious future ! This new youth !R ise heart ! 0, tree of love ! may genial showersCall out a thousand branches towards heaven !Unfold thy blossoms, swell thy golden fruitUntil the loved one

’s hand be stretched to cull it.

(A rt, L iterature and the Drama, pp.

If judged alone by Margaret Fuller ’

s standard we must ad

mit that the spirit is indeed well rendered . If judged , how

ever,as a faithful rendition of the letter and meter

,as well as

of the spirit— the cri terion by which any translation is sure

to be judged finally—Margaret Fuller ’

s exercise of too much

freedom,or of her limitations , are at once evident . To arrive

at a fair estimate of her translation in this stricter sense two

representative pas sages have been chosen for comparison ,

the one subdued and des criptive,the other impass ioned . Both

are from the dialogue between Tas so and the princess in scene

4,Act V .

TASSO

Du warnest recht, ich hab’es schon bedacht.

Verkleidet geh’ich b in ,

den armen R ock

Ma/rgaret F uller’s Translation of Goethe

’s

“Tasso 207

Des Pilgers oder Schafers zieh’ ich an.

Ich schleiche durch die Stadt, wo die BewegungDer Tausende den einen leicht verbirgt .

Ich eile nach dem Ufer, finde dort

Gleich einen Kahn mit willig guten Lenten,

Mit Bauern, die zum Markte kamen , nun

N ach Hause kehren, Leute von Sorrent ;

Denn ich muss nach Sort ent hiniiber eilen .

Dort wohnet meine Schwester, die mit mirD ie S chmerzensfreude meiner E ltern war.

Im S chifi'

e bin ich still, und trete dann

Auch schweigend an das L and, ich gehe sachtDen Pfad hinauf, und an dem Thore frag

’ich

Wo wohnt Cornelia ? Zeigt mir es ah !

Cornelia Sersale ? F reundlich deutetMir eine Spinnerin die S trasse, sie

Bezeichnet mir das Haus , So steig ich weiter. "

D ie Kinder laufen nebenher und schauenDas wilde Haar, den diistern F remdling an .

S0 komm’ich an die Schwelle. Ofl’

en stehtD ie Thure schon, so tret’

ich in das Haus

I go disguised .

In the poor garb of shepherd or of pilgrim,

I easily shall thread the crowded streetsOf N aples unobserved . I seek the shore ;Then find a boat, manned by good, honest peasants ,Re turning from the market to Sorrentium,

Where dwells my sister, who with me formed once

The painful j oy o f our lost parents . I speak not

While in the skifi‘

, nor yet at disembarkingI softly climb the path, and at the gate

I ask , Where dwells Cornelia ?” and a woman,

Spinning before her door. shows me her house.

The children flock to look upon the stranger,With the disheveled locks and gloomy looks .

A t last I reach the threshold—open stands

The door—I enter.

PRIN CESS

Gar wenig ist’s was wir von dir verlangen

U nd dennoch scheint es allzu viel zu sein .

Du sollst dich selbst uns freundlich uberlas sen .

Wir wollen nichts von dir, was du nicht bist,Wenn du nur erst dir mit dir selbst gefallst.

Du machst uns F reude, wenn du F reude has t,U nd du betriibst uns nur, wenn du sie

.flieh st ;

(31 4 5 )

(31 5 0)

(31 60)

(3235 )

(3240)

208

Und wenn dv uns auch ungeduldig machst,So ist es nur, dass wir dir helfen miichtenUnd, leider ! sehn, dass nicht zu helfen ist,

Wenn du nicht selbst des F reundes Hand ergreifst,Die, sehnlich ausgestreckt, dich nicht erreicht. (3245 )

We ask but little from thee ; yet that littleHas ever been too much : that thou wouldst trustAnd to thyself be true ! Couldst thou do thisThou woulds t be happy, and we be happy in thee.

We must be gloomy when we see thee so ;

Impatient when so oft we see thee need

The help we cannot give ; when thou refusest

To seize the hand stretched out to thee in love.

TASSO

Du bist es selbst, wie du zum erstenmal,Ein heil

’

ger Enge] , mir entgegen kamst !Verzeih’ dem triiben Blick des Sterblichen,

Wenn er auf Augenblicke dich verkannt.

Er kennt dich wieder ! Ganz ertifi’net sich (325 0)

Die Seele, nur dich ewig zu verehren,E8 fiillt sich ganz das Herz von Z

'

artlichkeit

S ie ist’s , sie steht vor mir. Welch ein Gefiihl !

Ist es Verwirrung, was mich nach dir zieht?Ist

’s Raserei ? Ist

’s ein erhtihter S inn, (32 5 5 )

Der erst die hochste, reinste Wahrheit fasst ?

Ja, es ist das Gefiih l, das mich alleinAuf dieser Erde gliicklich machen kann,

Das mich allein so elend werden liess ,Wenn ich ihm widerstand und aus dem Herzen (3260)E s bannen wollte . Diese L eidenschaftGedacht’ ich zu bek

'

ampfen, stritt und strittMit meinem tiefsten Sein, zerstiirte frechMein eignes Selbst, dem du so ganz geh

'

orst

Thou art the same who came to meet me first !

Angel of pity and of love , forgiveThat my eye, clouded bv the mists of earth,Mistook thee for a moment. N ow I know thee,

And open all my soul to adoration,My heart to tenderness beyond all words .

Ah , what a feeling ! What a strange confusion !Is

’t madness which draws me

“thus towards thee ?

Or is’t an elevated sense of truth,

In its most lovely, earth-born form ? I know not.

It is the feeling which alone can make me


210 Bmun

of the feelings excited by the original but, as Margaret F ul

ler herself confesses , the beautiful finish of Goethe ’

s style is

los t. (Art, Li terature and the Drama, p . The meter is

not smooth , nor does one have to look far in her translationto find shortened or lengthened lines .

In the passages quoted above seventy-three lines of the

original have been rendered by fifty-four,and in the whole

play Goethe ’s 345 3 lines have been translated by 2600. This

reduction ,as Margaret Fuller said , is partly due to the fact

that English words are, as a rule, shorter than German words .

A good example of this contraction is found in the trans

lation of lines 3246-47 , where one and one half lines ,“Du bist

es selbst, wie du zum erstenmal, mir entgegenkamst ”

,are translated by one line, Thou art the same who

came to meet me first. In the same manner the two lines ,“Ich fiihle mich im Inners ten verandert

,ich fiihle mich von

aller N ot entladen ”3271 f . are somewhat freely translated by

part of one line,‘my soul dilates , each sorrow flies . Added to

this is the fact that the infiectional endings of the German inthe hands of a skillful writer help very materially in filling

up the line and smoothing out the meter.In the present ins tance, however, as we shall see, the chieffactor in this decrease is Margaret Fuller ’

s omission of many

of the minor details . A part of these she doubtless left out

as she often left out parts in her translations of German proseworks—because she thought they added little to the develop

ment of the plot or thought, or to the interest of the reader.2

Granting that many of these passag es could be spared without

seriously injuri ng the play, it must be adm itted, however,that it is often jus t these little details , frequently left out byher

,that lend picturesqueness and action to the narrative.

But not all of the omissions and changes made by the trans

lator were deliberate. Margaret Fuller ’

s abilities to translatesome of the German phrases which she encountered into the“by no means flex ible English idiom” were at times severely

taxed . This she herself confesses in her introduction ,already

2 F or examples of omissions in her prose works see her translationsof Eckermann

’s Conversations with Goethe—The whole discus sion of the

F arbenlehre, wherever mentioned , is left out.

Ma/rgaret F uller’s Trans lation of Goethe

’s

“Tasso 21 1

quoted,and the fact is all the clearer when we examine her

translation more carefully.

Though a large majority of her lines are very fair trans

lations in the stricter sense, especially those found in the

first passage compared, y et the cas es of a too free, often faultytrans lation ,

of omi tted l ines and insertions are common . The

following are representative illustrations , as found through

out the entire work . In the original , line 3140, the sentence“Du warnest recht , ich hab ’

es schon bedacht ” is omitted inthe translation altogether , so is line 3149 , Denn ich mussnach Sorrent hinuber eilen .

”In lines 31 5 5 -31 5 8 “ Zeigt mir

es an“ Fr

‘

eundlich deutet mir sic

die Strasse ;” “

So steig ich weiter , are all left out, as

is also line 3237 , Wir wollen nichts von dir,was du n icht

bist.

”In the six lines 3238-43

, the wish that Tasso were only

satisfied with hims elf (and his accomplishments ) is trans latedby the request that he be true to hims elf. The thought “

You

cause us j oy when you are joyful” is translated by “Couldst

thou do this thou wouldst be happy and we be happy in thee, ”and even if you make us impatient

,we are so only because

etc., by

“we must be impatient when etc.

” “ Sehnlich”

(3245 ) is translated by“in love.

” “Sie ist

’s,sie steht vor

mir” (325 3) is omitted .

“Der ers t die h6chste, reinste Wahr

heit fasst (325 6) is at most only partially translated by“in

its mos t lovely earthborn form.

” “If I may venture to in

dulge it is inserted after 325 8 . So mass ige die Glut , di e

mich ers chreckt”(3266 ) is weakly rendered by

“Avoid ex

press ions which I must not hear .

” “With excess of bliss ”is

inserted after es schwankt mein Sinn .

” “Mich haltder Fuss n icht mehr . Unwiderstehlich ziehst du mi ch zu dir(3279-80) is translated by simply “

I mus t approach ;and

“Du hast mich ganz auf ewig dir gewonnen , so n imm denn

auch mein ganzes Wesen hin .

”(3282-83) by the single line

“I am all thine—receive me to thyself.A large number of the changes noted are due

,of course, to

Margaret Fuller ’s custom of translating the general idea on

ly . The omiss ion of many of the minor details naturally fol

lows . But often the changes are very clearly due to real

21 2 Bmun

difficulties in translating . It is interesting to note some of

those which Margaret Fuller complained of in her introduc

tion ,quoted above, namely, those due to the difficulty of trans

lating compound words from the German . Of the twenty

seven or more occurring in the passage quoted she successfully translates , directly or indi rectly, at leas t twenty. Two

or three others occur in expressions altogether omitted . Ver

andert ” (3271 ) and“entladen ”

(3272 ) are translated very

freely, while such words as“uns

'

aglich“unwider

stehlich”(3280) and

“unaufhaltsam”

(3281 ) were real oh

stacles , though such compounds as“Schmerzenfreude”

(31“verehren ”

(325 1 ) and“ widerstand”

(3260) are trans

lated successfully .

Nor can the translator eas ily rid herself of an objectionablephrase.

“It is more difficult to polish a translation

,

” Mar

garet Fuller writes , “ than an original work, since we are de

nied the liberty of retrenching or adding where the ear and

taste cannot be satisfied (Art, L iterature and the Drama,

p . A very difficult task always in translating is to find

idioms in the language into which a work is“

to be translated

that correspond in meaning and force to those of the original .When it is required in addition to keep the external form of

the work intact,as in poetry, it is easy to understand why

poetical translations are rarely success ful except when doneby another poet . Margaret Ful ler, as is evident from her

original verse, was not a poetess . She never made any pre

tens ions in this di rection ,though she often set her thoughts

down in verse. Many of these are hasty translations from the

German,made for friends who had no knowledge of this lan

guage,and with whom she wished to share some of the enjoy

ment which she herself found in the poems translated . Her

translation of Tas so may have been partly from the same mo

tiy es—namely,that a larger circle might enjoy the same, not

that she expected to produce a work of art for she writes

after her apology for not doing the translation better : thatthough only a hollow-sounding reed ”

is substituted for the“ many-toned lyre on which the poet originally melodizedhis inspired conceptions , ” she believed no setting could


14 Jaeck

JOHN OXENFORD AS TRAN SLATOR .

In 1 846, there was published in America the following book

The Auto-Biography of Goethe, Truth and Poetry ; From

my L ife,”

edited by Parke Godwin . (vol. 1 , N Y. Wiley

Putnam ,1 61 Broadway ) . To this work was prefix ed a pref

ace by the editor,from Which I quote

“It is a little singular, with all that has been said about

Goethe, both in England and the United States , that no translation into English should have been made of the famous

Wahrheit und Dichtung, in which he gives such graphic accounts of himself and of his contemporaries . Several years

s in ce there was what purported to be a translation published

in London ; but this was a disgraceful impos ture. Mrs . Aus

tin speaks of it as the most flagrant piece of literary di shones ty on record, not Without justice

, and Mr . Carlyle refers

to it in much the same spirit. It was a poor copy of a

wretched French vers ion , in which frequently twenty pagesof the original are omitted at a time, and hardly a sentence isrendered with fidelity . Yet a great many people have readthe book, never suspecting but that they were reading a

translation from Goethe.

“The present attempt , therefore, has been undertaken by

the editor and some friends,to supply what may be considered

a great deficiency in English literature. They could not, of

course, aim at the grace and ease of style, which is one of the

finest characteristics of their author,but they have endeav

ored to be faithful to his meaning. Goethe is the hardestof all Germans to translate, because he is such a consummate

mas ter of form,which nothing but a genius equal to his own

could convey to another language“Goethe has taken his place, by pretty general consent , as

the Firs t European Poet and L i terary Man of the N ineteenthCentury . A book, then ,

in which he describes the process of

his peculiar development , and the way in which he regardedthe facts of existence and his own times , deserves to be read,even through the imperfect medium of translation, by those

who can get no better. In the original,it is a mas terpiece of

writing . It is a series of quiet but striking pictures , showing

John Ox enford as Translator 5

the growth of the greatest of German minds , and at the same

time the whole progress of German literature“The same persons have in preparation other works of

Goethe, which will be published, if the success of this bookshould warrant the expense. His

‘Annals or Day and Year

Book ’

,his

‘Italian Journey ’

,etc .

,and Dramas , will form part

of the series .

”

The following year saw the appearance of vol. 2, containingthe rest of the Autobiography . In this translation ,

Godwinwas assisted by able collaborators ; John Henry Hopkin s , Jr . ,

of Vermont translated Part 2 ; Chas . A . Dana,Part 3, and

John S . Dwight,Part 4. Its great excellence was attested

by the many favorable reviews in the leading American magazmes .

U . S . Bemoe. R .-447, Dec . 1 846 . Washington.

85 N . Y. ;

21 , Jan . 1 847 ; —4, Sept. 1 847 . Amer. Whig R N . Y .,

5 40, May 1 847. Graham’s Amer. Mon. Mag., Phila., Sept. 1 847.

L iterary World, N . Y . ,-298 May 1 847 ; July 1 847 ;

1 5 1 S ept. 1 8, 1 847. L ittell’s L iving Age, Bost. Aug. 1 7, 1 847 .

S outhern Quar. R . Charleston, S . C.,-467 Apr. 1 847 . Holden

’s

Dollar Mag., N . Y.-5 00 1 848.

Then in 1 848,there appeared in London , a similar trans

lation :“The Auto-Biography of Goethe, Truth and Poetry ;

From my own L ife, ” translated from the German by JohnOxenford . (13 books ) . This translation was the firs t volume

of the series on Go ethe ’

s life and works,issued by the pub

lisher, Henry G. Bohn , in his

“ Standard L iterary,

and it

is very noticeable that he speedily followed the suggestionsin the Preface to the Amer1can edition .

Preceding the translation , was an“Advertisement which

reads as follows“ Before the following translation was commenced , the first

Ten Books had already appeared in America. It was the in

tention of the Publisher to reprint these without alteration,

but,on comparing them with the ori ginal

,it was perceived

that the‘

American edition was not sufi‘iciently faithful , and

therefore the present was undertaken . The Trans lator, how

ever, is bound to acknowledge, that he found many successful

renderings in the work of his predecessor, and these he has

engrafted without hesitation .

21 6 Jaech

The title ‘Truth and Poetry ’

is adopted in common with theAmerican translation ,

as the neares t rendering of Dichtung

und Wahrheit, and preferable to‘Truth and Fiction

,

’ whichhas sometimes been used . The poet, by the expression ‘Dichtun g,

’ did not mean that he invented incidents in the Auto

Biography,but merely that they were of a poetic or romantic

character ; ‘Wahrheit ’ implies that they also poss essed the

truth of history . The‘Prose and Poetry of my L ife ’ would

,

perhaps , convey to the English reader the exact meaning of

the Author, although not literally his words .

”

The year following , Bohn published the remaining volumes(1 4 trans lated by the Rev . Alex . J W. Morrison

,M.A .

,

a work which included the “L etters from Switzerland ”

and

the“Travels in Italy.

”In the later editions

,the credit of

the translation of the enti re autobiography is always given to

John Oxenford .

In 1 8 5 0,a second edition of the American translation was

issued (2 vols . N . Y. Geo . P . Putnam,1 5 5 Broadway ) , and

in the Preface, the editor,Parke Godwin , quotes Ox enford

’s

title-page and advertisement, and then discusses them in this

Now we quote this title-page and advertisement , in order

to expose one of the most unblushing pieces of literary thefton record . Any person reading them would suppose

,I . That

the English edition was a veritable new translation from the

German ; 2. That it had been made by John Oxenford , Esq . ;

3. That the American vers ion was not a faithful one ; and 4.

That the same version had merely been used occas ionally to

help Mr . Oxenford to‘many successful renderings

’of the

first ten books . But, in supposing so , the reader would be misled into just as many errors .

“The English is not a new trans lation at al l, but a bold

appropriation of the American vers ion , which is proved by thefact , that whole pages of the two editions are precisely the

same ; that in other pages only slight verbal alterations havebeen made, such as

‘ felicity ’for happines s ; and ‘ progress ’

for advance ,etc .

,etc. ; that the very typographical errors of

the American edition have been retained ; that foot-hotw


218 Jaeck

An d he concludes his discuss ion thus : But we will not pursue this matter any further. Our object is not so much to ex

pose the dishonesty of John Oxenford, Esq ., as it is to present

the American public with one more proof of the necessity of

an in ternational copyright law. This translation occupied the

time of several literary persons during the better part of a

whole winter. It was printed and published by Americanpublishers , at an expense of nearly two thousand dollars . But

as both the translators and the publishers knew it was not

likely to have an extensive sale in the American market,they

confidently relied upon the English market for their remuneration . Yet the book had hardly appeared before a cheaperedition of it was issued in England, whereby the sale of the

American edi tion was almost wholly cut off. Thus,the Amer

ican translators have lost their time, and the American pub

lishers their profits , for the want of that protection which thelaw extends to every kind of property except literary . Whatencouragement is there, in this state of things , for Americanscholars

,or for the publishers of Ameri can books ?

As a mere question of international justice, it is per

haps right that American books should be reprinted in England

,since we have reprinted English books . But in respect

to the individuals whose labors are appropriated , this reciprocal free-booking, as Hood used to call it, operates as a sig

nal wrong and calamity .

We do not complain ,we repeat , of the reprinting of our

book in England , for that was to have been expected, in the

present condition of. the law,but we do complain that a bad

name should have been given to it by the very party who

surrepti tious ly published it as his own .

This second edition also received favorable reviews in the

American Magazines . The“International Monthly Magazine

of Li terature, Science and Art”(N Y . Aug . 1 2

,1 8 5 0)

substantiates Godwin ’s Preface. Mr . Godwin exposes one

of the most s candalous pieces of literary imposition that wehave ever read of. This translation with a few verbal alter

ations which mar its beauty and lessen its fidelity ,has been

reprin ted in ‘Bohn

’s Standard L ibrary ’

in London as an

John Ox enford as Translator 219

original English vers ion ,in the making of which , ‘

the M erican was of occas ional use,

’etc. Mr . Godwin is one of our

bes t German scholars , and his di scourse last winter on the

character and genius of Goethe,illus trated his thorough ap

preciation of the Shakespeare of the Continent , and that af

fectionate sympathy which is so necessary to the task of turning one language into another. There are very few books in

modern literature more attractive or more instructive thanthis Autobiography of Goethe, for which we are indebted tohim .

In Harper ’s N ew Monthly Magaz ine Oct. 1 85 0)

appeared this criticism :“Tru th and Poetry, from my own

L ife, or the Autobiography of Goethe, edited by Parke Godw m

,i s i ssued in a second edition by Geo . P . Putnam, with a

preface,showing the plagiarisms which have been commi tted

on it in a pretended English trans lation from the original byone John Oxenford . This enterprising person has made a bold

appropriation of the Ameri can vers ion ,with only such changes

as might serve the purpose of concealing the fraud . In addi tionto this felonious proceeding, he charges the translation to whichhe has helped himself so freely, with various inaccuracies , notonly stealing the property

,but giving it a bad name. The

work of the American editor has thus found a singular,but effectual guarantee for its value, and is virtually pronounced to be a translation in capable of essential improvement . With the resources possessed by Mr . Godwin

,in his

own admirable command both of the German and of the

English language and the aid of the rare scholarship in thisdepartment of Mr . Chas . A . Dana and Mr . John S . Dwight ,to whom a part of. the work was entrusted, he could not failto produce a version which would leave little to be desiredby the most fastidious critic . It is unnecessary to speak of

the merits of the original , which is familiar to al l who havethe slightest tincture of German literature. As a history of

the progress of literary culture in Germany,as well as of the

rich development of Goethe ’s own mind

,it is one of the

most instructive, and at the same time,the most entertaining

biographies in any language.

”

220 Jaeck

The L iterary World (N . Y .-133 Aug . 1 7

,1 8 5 0

No. 1 8 5 ) also has a characteristic word to say about the trans

lation .

“It is a very cool thing for a man to find fault wi th

what he borrows and doesn ’t intend to return ; but to decry

what one steals , and Openly inform the victim of one’

s depra

dations that h is wares are not quite up to expectation,is

what might be considered as the Nova Zembla of impudence.

The appropriations of the London translator (so-called ) and

his publication of the American vers ion of Goethe ’

s Auto

biography, furn ishes the proof that this degree of complacent

piracy may sometimes be attained . Mr . Parke Godwin of thiscity, with the co-operation of some literary friends , translatedthe present work for Messrs . Wiley and Putnam ’

s‘L ibrary of

Choice Reading , ’in which the first edition made its appear

an ce. It was a difficult and laborious undertaking , but the

edi tor succeeded in presenting the Autobiography of Goethe

to Engli sh and American readers in an accurate, careful and

spirited vers ion . The book itself is one of the most characteristic and powerful of the productions of its great author, andit only needed time and opportun ity to become widely known

and popular in the trans lation . The immediate circulation inthis country of a work of this character could not

, however ,be expected to equal that of publications of more recent au

thorship and more immedi ate interest . The publishers hererelied in part upon a favorable reception of the translation in

England, to which it was eminently entitled .

The way in which the book was bodily appropriated by theEnglish publisher , and reprinted as an original English translation

, and , at the same time, disparaged and decried so far as

the N ew York edition was concerned,is a curious piece of

effrontery of which we give the account en tire as it appears

in the Preface to the new American edition .

”Then follows

the quotation of Godwin ’s entire Preface.

It is not my intention to make any accusations agains t JohnOxenford . I shall s imply cite corresponding extracts , taken

at random,from each of the twenty books , and let the reader

draw his own conclusions . In this citation,I use the Ameri

can editions of 1846-7 and 1 85 0,which are exactly alike in


22 Jaecia

Bk. 4, p. 1 1 5 .

Our regards and interests are

still fastened upon these regions.

At last the founder of anotherrace goes forth, who is able to

stamp a distinct character uponhi s descendants, and by thatmeans unite them for all timeto come into a great and compactnation, inseparable under all

changes of place or destiny.

Bk. 5 , p. 1 5 9 .

Scarcely had I set foot in the

house when my father caused meto be called, and communicated tome that it was now quite certainthat the Archduke Joseph wouldbe elected and crowned King of

Rome .

Part 2, bk . 6, p. 1 .

Thus was I driven alternatelyto assist and retard my recovery,and a certain secret chagrin was

now added to my other sensations :for I plainly perceived that I waswatched, that they were loth to

hand me any sealed paper without taking notice what efl’

ect it

produced, whether I kept it se

cret, or laid it down openly, and

other indications . I, therefore,conjectured that Pylades, or one

of the cousins, or even Gretchenherself, might have attempted to

write to me, either to give or to

obtain information. In additionto my sorrow, I was now for the

first time thoroughly soured, and

had fresh opportunities for ex er

cising my conj ectures, and mis

leading myself by the stranges tcombinations .

Bk. 7, pp. 89-90.

And when I urged it upon him,

Eh. 7, pp. 262-263.

And when I pressed him,

’

he

he replied in his intelligent, serene replied in his intelligent, cheerful

Bk. 4, p. 106 .

But our regards, our interests ,

are still fastened to these regions .

At last the founder of a race

again goes from hence, and is so

fortunate as to stamp a distinctcharacter upon his descendants,and by that means to unite themfor all time to come into a great

nation, inseparable through all

changes of place or destiny.

Bk. 5 , p. 1 47.

Scarcely had I reached homethan my father caused me to be

called, and communicated to me

that it was now quite certain thatthe A rchduke Joseph would be

elected and crowned King of

R ome .

Part 2, bk. 6, p. 1 81 .

Thus was I driven alternatelyto assist and to retard my re

covery, and a certain secret cha

grin was now added to my othersensations ; for I plainly perceivedthat I was watched,—that theywere loth to hand me any sealed

paper without taking notice whateffect it produced—whether I keptit secret—whether I laid it downOpen, and the like . I, therefore,conj ectured that Pylades , or one

of the cousins, or even Gretchenherself, might have attempted to

write to me, either to give or to

obtain information. In additionto my sorrow, I was now for the

first time thoroughly cross, and

had again fresh opportunities to

exercise my conj ectures, and to

mislead myself into the strangestcombinations.

John Ox enford as Translator

manner : “If, in commenting on

and explaining your friend, youwill allow me to go on after hisfashion, methinks he meant to say :

that experience is nothing else

than that one should experiencewhat one does not wish to ex peri

ence ; which is what it amounts to

for the most part, at least in thisworld.

”

Bk. 8, p. 99 .

N ow although from their sit

nation, character, abilities, and op

portunities , these amateurs and

collectors inclined most to th e

Dutch school, yet while they praetised their eyes on the end

less merits of the N orth-westernartists, a look of reverential longing was often turned towards the

South-east.

Bk. 9, p. 1 65 .

N ow as one cannot deny to the

whole mass a fine proportion of

height and breadth, so also it

maintains a somewhat uniform~

lightness in the details, by meansof these buttresses and the narrowcompartments between them.

Bk. 10, p. 220 note.

The general custom . of the country villages in Protestant Ger

many on such interesting occa

sions .—Tran3 .

V ol. 2, part 3, bk. 1 1 , p. 36.

It is highly remarkable, thoughnot so commonly noticed, that at

this time even the strong old rythmic artistic tragedy was threatened with a revolution, which wasaverted only by great talent and

the power of tradition.

223

Bk . 10, p. 379 note.

The general custom of the country villages in Protestant Ger

many on such interesting occasions .

—American N ote.

manner, If you will allow me,

while commenting on and completing your friend, to go on after hisfashion, I think he meant to say,

that experience is nothing else

than that one experiences what onedoes not wish to experience ; whichis what it amounts to for the most

part, at least in this world.

”

Bk. 8, p. 269 .

N ow although from their sit

nation, mode of thought, abilities,and opportunities, these amateursand collectors inclined more to theDutch school, yet, While the eye

was practised on the endless mer

its of the north-western artist, a

look of reverential longing was al

ways turned towards the southeast.

Bk. 9, p. 329.

N ow as one cannot deny to thewhole mass a fine proportion of

height to breadth, so also in the

details it maintains a somewhatuniform lightness by means of

these pillars and the narrow com

partments between them.

V ol. 1 , part 3, bk . 1 1 , p. 423.

It is extremely remarkable, and

has not been generally noticed,that at this time, even the old, se

vere, rythmical, artistical tragedywas threatened with a revolution,

which could only be averted by

great ‘talents and the power of tra

dition.

224

Bk. 1 2, p. 71 .

Jaeck

And shall that man not be immortal,

Who health and j oys for us discovered,S uch as the horse swift in the race ne

’er gave us ;

Such as even the flying ball has not ?

Bk . 1 2, p. 4 5 4.

And should he not be immortal,Who found for us health and j oys ,Which the horse , though hold in his course, never gave,And which even the ball is without ?”

Bk . 1 3, p. 1 29 .

It is always a misfortune to en

ter into new relations to which weare not accustomed. We are, oftenagainst our will, beguiled into a

false sympathy. The incompleteness of such a position tortures us ,

but we see no means either of making it perfect or of escaping from

Bk . 1 4, p. 1 5 1 -1 5 2.

The perseverance of an energet

ic character becomes the moreworthy of respect when it is maintained throughout a life in the

world and in affairs , and when a

mode of dealing with currentevents, which to many might seem

rough and arbitrary, employed at

the right time, leads most surely toits end.

Bk. 1 5 , p. 1 92 .

Bk . 1 3, p. 5 09 .

It is always a misfortune to stepinto new relations to which one has

not been inured ; we are oftenagainst our will lured into a falsesympathy, the incompleteness of

such positions troubles us , and yet

we see no means either of com

pleting them or of removing them.

Who will belong to himself alone,

Let him shut himself up in a cot o f his own ,

Company find in his children and wife,Drink nothing but light new wine,And never immoderately dine,

And nothing will hinder the course of his life .

V ol. 2 , bk . 1 4, p. 7-8 .

In an energetic character thisadherence to its own views becomesthe more worthy of respect whenit has been maintained throughouta life in the world and in affairs,and when a mode of dealing withcurrent events , which to manymight seem rough and arbitrary,being employed at the right time,

has led surely to the desired end.

Bk. 1 5 , p. 4 5 .

He who would serve himself alone,Should have a cottage of his own.

Dwell with his children and h is wi fe,Regale himself with light new wine,And on the cheapest viands dine ;

Then nothing can disturb his life.


226 Jaech

Bk. 1 9, p. 9 5 .

Truly, lovers consider all thatthey have felt before only as preparation for their present bliss,only as the base on which the

structure of their life can first be

reared. Past attachments seem likespectres of the night, which glideaway before the break of day.

Bk. 20, pp. 1 1 5 -1 1 6 .

Child ! child ! no more ! lashedas by invisible spirits , the sun

steeds of time rush onward withthe light car of our destiny, and

nothing remains to us but bravelyand composedly to hold fast the

reins, and now to the right, now

to the left, here from a rock,there from a precipice, to avertthe wheels . Whither he is going,who can tell ? Scarcely can he re

member whence he came !”

In 1 839,Margaret Ful ler ’

s translation of E ckermann ’s

Conversations with Goethe”was published in Boston as

the fourth volume of Geo . Ripley ’s

“ Specimens of Foreign

L iterature”(414 pp. Hilliard, Gray In her long

preface, a very jus t characterization of Goethe, Margaret

Fuller s tates that inasmuch as the two German volumes of

1 836 would not make two English volumes of this specialseries , and yet were too much for one

, she was obliged to omi t

in her translation some of the less important parts ; e. g .

,

Goethe ’s theory of colors

,E ckermann ’

s experiments and

Goethe ’s remarks on them

,E ckermann ’

s brief account of hisvis it to Italy

,a discuss ion of a novel by Goethe, as yet un

trans lated,and a few passages of a very local nature. But

she adds : “I am aware that there is a just prejudi ce agains t

paraphrastic or mutilated translations , and that , in this delicate process

,I have laid my self open to much blame. But

I have done it with such care, that I feel confident the sub

Eh. 1 9, p. 1 49.

True, lovers consider all thatthey have felt before only as preparation for their present bliss,only as the foundation on whichthe structure of their future li fe

is to be reared. Past attachmentsseem like spectres of the night,which glide away before the breakof day.

Bk . 20, p. 1 68.

Child ! child ! no more ! The

coursers of time, lashed, as it

were, by invisible spirits , hurry on

the light car of our destiny, and

all that we can do is in cool selfpossession to hold the reins with a

firm hand, and to guide the wheels ,now to the left, now to the right,avoiding a stone here, or a precipice there. Whither it is hurrying who can tell ? and who, indeed,can remember the point from

which it started ?


stance of the work, and its essential features , will be foundhere

,and hOpe, if so , that any who may be acquainted With

the original,and regret omissions , will excuse them . These

two rules have been observed, not to omit even such detailsas snufi

‘ing the candles and walking to the stove, (given by

the good Eckermann with that truly German minutenesswhich

,many years ago, so provoked the wit of Mr . Jeifrey , )

when they seem needed to finish out the picture, either of

German manners , or Goethe ’

s relations to his friends or

household . N either has anything been omitted which would

cast either light or shade on his character. I am sure that

nothing has been softened or extenuated , and believe thatGoethe ’

s manners,temper , and opin ions , wear here the same

aspect that they do in the original .

I have a confidence that the translation is , in the truest

sense, faithful , and trust that those who find the form livingand symmetrical , will not be inclined severely to censure

some change in the cut or make of the garment in which it isarrayed.

”

Thi s work was reviewed most favorably in the N ew York

Review ”-4 July 1 839 ) and in the

“ Bos ton Quarterly

Review (3 :20-5 1 Jan .

Some years afterward, after the publication in 1 848 of

E ckermann ’s third volume of Conversations , there appeared

in print a translation of the“ Conversations of Goethe with

Eckermann and Soret,” by John Oxenford (2 vols . L . 1 85 0

Smith,Elder Co. , 6 5 , Cornh ill ) . In his Preface, Oxenford

writes : “ Had I followed the order of German publication Ishould have placed the whole of the Supplementary volume

after the contents of the first two ; however, as the Conversations in that volume are not of a later date than the others(which , indeed , terminate with the death of Goethe) , butmerely supply gaps , I deemed it more conducive to the

reader ’s convenience to re-arrange in chronological order the

whole of the Conversations,as if the Supplement had not been

published separately.

Still , to preserve a distinction between the Convers ations

of the First Book and those of the Supplement , I have marked

228 Jaeeh

the latter with the abbreviation adding an asterisk

(thus , Supfi") when a Conversation has been furnished,not

by Eckermann,but by Soret.

I feel bound to state that,while translating the Firs t

Book, I have had before me the translation by Mrs .Fuller,

published in Ameri ca. The great merit of this version I

willingly acknowledge, though the frequent ( t) omissionsrender it almost an abridgement . The contents of the Sup

plementary volume are now,I believe, published for the first

time in the English language.

After the appearance of Ox enford’

s work, the Monthly

L iterary Miscellany”(A Compendium of literary

,philosoph

ical and religious knowledge, edited by Daniel F . Quimby,Detr01t Mich . 1 8 5 1 Beecher and Quimby ) in an article en

titled Goethe ’s Opinion of Byron ,

Scott and Carlyle”(pp.

1 25 -1 27 ) makes this very characteristic comment : Mr .

John Oxenford , who has shown remarkable capacities for

appropriation,in the use he has made of William Peter, Parke

Godwin,and others , in his various ‘ translations ’ from the

German ,has recently fallen in with Margaret Fuller d ’

Osso

li’s vers ion of the Conversations of Goethe with E ckermann,published many years ago by Mr . R ipley in his ‘ Specimens of

Foreign L iterature’

; and the result is two volumes , embrac

ing , with what Margaret Fuller translated. the great poet’

s

conversations with Soret . ’

In order that the reader may gain an idea of thes e twotrans lations of Eckermann ’

s work of 1 836, I append corre

sponding pas sages taken also at random from the record of

every year.

F ULL ER

Introduction, p. 5 .

Still I em far from imaginingthat the Whole inner man of Goe

the is here adequately portrayed .

We may, with propriety, comparethis extraordinary spirit and man

to a many-sided diamond, whichin each direction shines with a d if

ferent light.

OXEN FORDIntroduction, vol. 1 , p. 3.

Still, I am far from imaginingthat the whole internal Goethe is

here adequately portrayed . We

may, with propriety, compare this

extraordinary mind and man to

a many-sided diamond , which in

each direction shines with a dif

ercut hue.


230

extensive acquaintance with the

world which it displays , not easilyto be comprehended . But you willsee what lights open upon you.

‘Tasso

’lies far nearer the common

feelings of men, and all there is

told with a minuteness of detail

very favorable to an easy comprehension of it.

”

P . 1 70, N ov. 8, 1 826.

Goethe spoke again of L ord

Byron .

“I have, said he ,“j ust

read once more his‘Deformed

Transformed,’and admire his gen

ius more than ever. H is demon

was suggested by Mephist0philes .

It is , however, no imitation, but

a new and original creation of

great merit. There are no weakpassages , not a place where you

could put the head of a pin, whereyou do not find invention and

thought. But for his hypochon

driacal negative turn, he wouldhave been as great as Shakespeare—as the ancients .

”I expressed

surprise at such an assertion.

P . 1 88 , Jan. 1 7, 1 827 .

We talked of Schiller’s “F ies

co, which was acted last Saturday.

“I saw it for the first time,

”

said I,“and have been thinkingwhether those extremely rough

scenes could not be softened ; butI find very little could be done

without spoiling the character of

the whole.

”

P . 246 , Oct. 3, 1 828.

“Generally speaking, a man is

quite sufliciently saddened by his

own pas sions and destiny ; he need

Jaeck

P . 327, Jan . 1 7, 1 827.

We talked of Schiller’s “F ies

co,” which was acted last Satur

day.

“I saw it for the first time,”

said I, and have been much ocenpied with thinking whether thoseextremely rough scenes could not

be softened ; but I find very littlecould be done to them withoutspoiling the character of the

V ol. 2 , p. 72 , Oct. 3, 1 828 .

“Generally speaking, a man is

quite sufliciently saddened by his

own passions and destiny, and need

irony, and also because he is a.

living result of an extensive ac

quaintance with the world, also

very difficult. But you will see

what lights open upon you.

‘Tas

so,’

on the other hand, lies far

nearer the common feelings ,of

mankind, and the elaboration of its

form is favorable to an easy com

prehension of it.”

P . 294, N ov. 8, 1 826 .

Today, Goethe spoke again of

L ord Byron with admiration.

“Ihave, said he,

“read once morehis

‘

Deformed Transformed,’and

must say, that to me his talent

appears greater than ever. H is

devil was suggested by my Mephis

t0philes ; but it is no imitationit is thoroughly new and original,close , genuine, and spirited. Thereare no weak pas sages , -not a placewhere you could put the head of

a pin, where you do not find in

vention and thought. Were it not

for his hypochondriacal negativeturn, he would be as great as

Shakespeare and the ancients . Iexpressed surprise .


not make himself more gloomy, bylooking into the darkness of bar

baric early days . He needs en

lightening and cheering influences ,

and must therefore turn to thoseeras in art and literature, duringwhich remarkable men could ob

tain that degree of culture whichmade them satisfied with themselves, and able to impart similarsatisfaction to others.

”

P . 278, F eb . 1 7, 1 829 .

“L avater, said Goethe, be

lieved in Cagliostro and his won

ders . When the impostor was

unmasked, L avater maintained‘This is another ; Cagliostro, whodid the wonders, was a holy person .

P . 337, F eb . 1 0, 1 830.

Dined with Goethe . He spokewith real gratification of the poemwritten by R iemer, for the festivalof the 2d F ebruary.

“All ,

”said Goethe, “which R ie

mer writes, is fit to be seen both bymaster and journeymen .

”

P . 35 9, F eb . 1 2, 1 831 .

This,” said Goethe, is a most

beautiful history, and one which Ilove better than any. It expressesthe noble doctrine, that man,

through faith and animated courage, may come off victor in the

most dangerous enterprises, whilehe may be ruined by a momentaryparoxysm of doubt.

”

P . 41 1 , Early in March, 1 832.

“He is a very fine young man,

said Goethe ; “in his mien and man

ners the nobleman is seen at once.

He can as little dissemble his descent as another man could his tu

231

not make himself more so, by the

darkness of a barbaric past. He

needs enlightening and cheering influences, and should therefore turn

to those eras in art and literature,during which remarkable men oh

tained perfect culture, so that theywere satisfied with themselves, and

able to impart to others the blessings of their culture.

”

P . 426, Early in March, 1 832 .

“He is a very fine young man,

said Goethe ; “in his mien and man

ners he has something by which thenobleman is seen at once . He

could .as little dissemble his de

P . 1 33, F eb . 1 7, 1 829 .

“L avater,” said Goethe, be

lieved in Cagliostro and his won

ders . When the impostor was un

masked, L avater gmaintained,‘ThiS

is another Cagliostro, the Cagliostro who did the wonders was a

holy person .

P . 227, F eb . 1 0, 1 830.

D ined with Goethe. He spokewith real gratification of the poemwritten by R iemer, for the festivalof the 2d F ebruary.

“All, added Goethe, that

R iemer does, is fit to be seen bothby master and j ourneyman .

”

P . 332, F eb . 1 2, 1 831 .

“This,” said Goethe, is one of

the most beautiful legends, and

one which I love better than any.

It expresses the noble doctrine thatman, through faith and heartycourage, will come off victor in themost difficult enterprises, while hemay be ruined by the least parox

ysm of doubt.

”

232 Jaeck

te llect ; for both birth and in scent as any one could deny a

tellect give their possessor a stamp higher intellect ; for birth and in

which no incognito can conceal. tellect both give to him who once

Like beauty, these are powers .possesses them a stamp which no

which one cannot approach without incognito can conceal. L ike beausome feeling of their high nature.

”ty, these are powers which one can

not approach without feeling thatthey are of a higher nature.

”

Ou page 13 of his bibliography , Goethe in England and

America”(Ed. 2 L . 1 909 ) Dr. Oswald states that the work

entitled Tales from the German ,

” translated by John Ox

enford and C . A . Feiling (L . 1 844 Chapman Hall Large

8y o. X IV 446 pp . ) contains Goethe ’s tale “

The N ew Par

is”on pp . 306-31 6 . I have not seen this particular English

edition ,but the American reprint of Part 1 . of these Tales

(N . Y. 1 844 1 10pp . Harper Bros . ) from an English editionof Part 1 . by Chapman Hall

,does not contain this tale.

The eight stories included are :

1 . J . H . Musaeus—L ibussa.

2 . Schiller—The Criminal from L ost Honor.

3° Haut‘

f(from Sheik A lex ander and his Slaves . )

4. Immerman—Wonders in the Spessart (from Munchhausen )5 . C . F . van der Velde—Axel : A Tale of the Thirty Years’ War.

6 . E . T. W. Hofi‘

man—The Sandman.

7. H . Kleist—Michael Kohlhaas .

Also in a review of the English edition,Part 1

,in the Lon

don Examiner ”(pp . 661 -2 Oct. 1 844 reprinted in L ittell ’s

L iving Age 3 :475 -478 Dec . 21,1844 No. 32 ) these eight tales

and their authors are named and briefly discussed , and the

article closes with these words : “We hope that notices of

these wri ters will be given when the collection is completed

If this collection was later completed and if “The N ew Paris

by Goethe was included in the list, it would be an interesting

s tudy to compare Ox enford ’s translation of this particular

tale with Margaret Fuller ’

s vers ion in her article on Goethe”

in the Dial . ” July 1841 (Boston

Margaret Fuller (Marchesa d’

Ossoli ) is well known

through a recent study by Dr . F . A . Braun , entitled“Mar

garet Fuller and Goethe”, (N . Y.

'

1910 25 7 pp. H . IIolt


234 Jaeck

The Germans in America N . Y . 1 893.

Edi ted Bryant’s Works 6 vols . N . Y. 1 883-1 884.

Commemorative Addresses : Geo. W. Curtis , Edwin Booth, LouisKossuth, John J. Audubon, Wm. C. Bryant N . Y. 1 89 5 .

E ssays on John Jas . Audubon in L ittle Journeys to the Homes

of American Authors N . Y . 1 896 G . P . Putnam’s S ons .

A N ew S tudy of the Sonnets of Shakespeare N . Y . 1 900.

Translated Zschokke’s Tales .

Translated F ouqué’s Undine, and also S istram and his Compau

ions .

John Oxenford was born at Camberwell near London Au

gust 1 2 , 1 81 2 . He was a self-educated man,and unaided by

s chools , learned the French , Italian ,Spanish and German lan

guages . Apprenticed to a solicitor,he studi ed law and was

admitted to the bar,but soon he adopted a literary career.

His first wr itings were on commerce and finance, but laterhe devoted hims elf entirely to literature. In 1 835

,he began

writing for the stage,and until 1 87 5

,was a mos t prolific au

thor of comedies , especially of farces,and of librettos for

operas . The“Catalog of the British Museum prin ts the

titles of about forty plays , and the “Musical World of March10

,1 877

,records an incomplete list of s ixty-eight dramas .

His most noted farces , which by the way , are also his early

ones of 1 835,are

“My Fellow-Clerk”,

“A Day Well Spent

”,

and“Twice Killed”

, each of whi ch had four editions and

was trans lated into foreign languages .

Besides compos ing original plays,Oxenford was dramati c

critic for the “London Times for over a quarter of a cen

tury (from c. 1 85 0) In regard to his critiques , Robin H .

Legge writes in the Dictionary of National Biography ”(L .

1 892-1 900 vol . 43 p . 1 3)“He was amiable to weakn ess , and

the excessive kindl iness of his disposition caused him to so err

on the side of leniency as to render his Opinion as a critic praetically valueless . It was his own boast that ‘

none of those

whom he censured ever went home disconsolate and despairing

on account of anything he had written .

’

[Ci the“Adver

tisement”in his translation of Goethe ’

s Autobiography (13

bks . ) L . He also wrote articles for the various maga

zines and to the “Penny Cyclopedia” contributed several' bio

graphical papers,notably one on Moliere. His essay in the

John Ox efnford as Translator 235

Westminster Review April 1 85 3 (N ew Series -407 )

entitled “Iconoclasm in Philosophy ”

,based on Schopen

hauer ’

s writings , di d much to create an interest in Englandin the works of the German philosopher, (see Art : Arthur

Schopenhauer by Franz Buettner in F ortn . R . 26 : 773-792

Dec.

But it is especially as a translator that Ox enford ’s name is

of. interest to the s tudent of_

German culture. Hence I shallappend a list of his many translations . He died at Southwark,February 21

,1877 and was buried at Kensal Green .

Translations and Adaptations.

Spanish.

1 . Calderon—La Vida es Sueno.

Italian.

Boiardo—Orlando innamorato (incomplete ) .

F rench.

1 . Moliere—Tartufi'

e .

2 . Scribe L egouvé—World of F ashion (L es Doigts de F é e ) 1 8 5 0.

3. C . Delavigne—Monastery of St. Just 1 85 0.

4. J M. Gallery M. Yvan—History of the Insurrection in Chinawith supplementary chapter. 1 8 5 3.

5 . Illustrated Book of F rench Songs from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century 1 8 5 5 .

6 . E . Cormon M. Carré—Lara 1 865 .

German.

1 . (With C . A . F eiling and Prof. Heimann ) Edited J. G . F lugel

Comparative Dictionary of the German and English languageswith additions and improvements 2 vols . Ed. 2 1 838 (several editions ) .

6 . F r. C . W. Jacobs -Hellas, or the Home, History, L iterature and

A rt of the Greeks 1 85 5 .

7 . Kuno F ischer—F rancis Bacon of Verulam 1 8 5 7 .

8 . J . F . Kind—Der F reisch iitz 1 866 .

9 . (With Dr. F ranz Huefl’ner)—Selections from German opera texts

for the R ichard Wagner F estival in Albert Hall 1 877 .

10. Goethe—Die Wahlverwandtschaften (see Dict. of N at’l. Biog.

I wonder if Oxenford is the“Anon.

”who translated this novel for

Bohn’s

“S tandard L ibrary” (see Preface to

“N ovels and Tales

”L .

In regard to the life and works of the Rev . Alex . Jas . Wm.

Morrison ,A .M.

,Trin ity College, Cambri dge, all the biogra

phies and encyclopedias are strangely silent. The only infor

236 Jaech

mation I could obtain ,was from the Catalog of the British

Museum ,where are stated the titles of his various original

translations of German works , or revisions of translations ,generally for Bohn

’

s“ Standard L ibrary .

”I append a list

of thes e translations . (See also Oswald, pp . 13-14

1 . Aug. H . R itter—Hist. of Ancient Philosophy 4 vols . 1 836-1 846 .

2 . Hermann U lrici—Shakespeare’s Dramatic A rt and his R elation

to Calderon 1 846 .

3. Aug. W. S chlegel—Lectures on Dramatic Art and L iterature1 846 (revised from John Black’

s translation in

4. A . N eander—General History of the Christian R eligion and

Church 1 846 (revised from J Torrey’s translation ) .

5 . F r. Schlegel—Philosophy of L ife and Philosophy of L anguage

1 847 .

6. Autobiography of Goethe (books 1 4 including the Letters

from Switzerland and Travels in Italy 1 849 . L ater Oxenfordwas given the credit of the entire Autobiography.

7. Schiller—Thirty Years ’ War 1 8 5 1 .

8 . Schiller—Revolt of the United N etherlands (revised from L ieut.Edw. B. Eastwick

’s translation ) , al so Trial of Counts Egmont

and Horn and the S iege of Antwerp 1 8 5 1 . Cf. Geo. Moir’stranslations of the Thirty Years ’ War, Siege of Antwerp and

the Trials o f Counts Egmont and Horn Edinb . 1 828 vols . 1 8

1 9 of Constable’s Miscellany.

9 . Heinrich E . F . Guerike—Manual of the Antiquities of the Church1 8 5 1 .

10. Michael Baumgarten—Acts of the Apostles 1 8 5 4 3 vols . (withthe Rev. T. Meyer) .

1 1 . Gottlieb C . A . von Harless—System of Christian Ethics 1 86 5 .

In this s tudy I have tried to s tate impartially the facts as

I have found them in history and literature, and let the reader

draw his own inferences . I have,however, a few questions yet

unanswered , and I ofier them to others for solution . Why is

Parke Godwin ’s work entirely ignored by Doctor Oswald in

his“Bibliography of Goethe and by all editors of Goethe ’

s

complete works in translation ? Why does the great “ Diction

ary of English Biography ”(edited by L eslie Stephen and

Sidney Lee,63 vols . L . 1 895 -1 900

,1 st supplement in 3 vols .

1 901 ; 2nd sup . in 3 vols . 1 912,Smith

,Elder 1 6 Water

loo Place) in an article by Robin H . L egge (vol . 43, p . 13)state that Ox enford ’

s trans lation of the Autobiography was in

1 846 ? Why does the 1 910-1 91 1 edition of the“Encyclopedia


238 Andrews

IBSEN ’S PEER GYNT AND GOETHE ’S F AUST .

That the great work of the great author of modern N orway

presents more than chan ce analogies to the classic of modern

Germany has not escaped notice. Both are dramatic poems

in varied metre setting forth the career of an eminently na

tional,but at the same time in only less degree universal fig

ure. That the treatment of this figure is on the one hand synthetic and sympathetic

,on the other analytic and relentless ,

has its inevitable basis in the widely differing natures of. the

two poets . In accordance with his deeply national tendencyeach author has drawn largely upon national legend and pOpu

lar belief, notmerely for his central character, but for muchof his treatment as well . In these facts of general analogy thereis however involved no necessary direct relationship betweenthe two poems . Nor is it an easier matter here than elsewhereto demonstrate just how far Ibsen ,

who prided himself if ever

author did upon being himself” under all circums tances ,may have fallen under Goethe ’

s“influence

”,and just what

the nature of his reaction to this influence as shown in his work

was

Doubtless the most striking and indubitable literary influ

ence to be noted in Ibsen ’s life-work is found in his relation

to that champion of the Norwegian woman ’s cause, Camilla

Collett,1and the first man ifestation of this relation is a pc

culiar but characteristic one. Camilla Collett ’s Amtma'ndens

Batre appeared in 1 85 5 . The thesis of this remarkable novel

was that the type of“mariage de convenance” prevailing in

a certain clas s of Norwegian society brought with it almost in

evitably a sacrifice of woman ’

s life-happiness . At the close

of 1 862 came Ibsen ’s Kj oerltghedens Komedte, which deals sa

tirically with love-matches on various stages of the way to

matrimony and beyond and in a characteristically Ibsenesque

dénouement places over against each other ideal love for love ’

s

sake which can find in the ins titution of marriage only its

own destruction,and marriage for life-happiness , which had

best be a marriage of reason . In this work Ibsen was not

1 See Ibsen’s admission, B rave fra H enrik Ibsen , I I , 1 80 (Letter of

Ibsen’s

“Peer Gynt and Goethe

’s

“ F aust

exactly contradicting F ru Collett , s till less was he merely

defending the “ mariage de convenance”; he was putting the

whole subject on a broader basis and introducing the element

of absolute idealism, to which so much of his life-work and

thought was devoted . In a spirit of conscious improvement

upon the original that had so laid hold upon his mind he

could not refrain from treating it to a bit of satire.

2

The above relation is of great value in the way of an an

alogy for an unders tanding of the relation between Ibsen ’s

shortly ,later work (1 867 ) and its German prototype. That

Ibsen actually knew Goethe’

s F aust when he wrote Peer Gyntand that it must have been vividly before his mind is suhfi

ciently evidenced by a quotation from it.

3 The circumstancesof the quotation are of such a sort as to perhaps reveal something of the author ’

s attitude toward Goethe ’

s work. Peer

Gynt under the spell of the entirely physical charms of the

dirty Arab girl,Anitra

,says in delight as he gives her the

jewel she demands

Anitra ! Evas naturlige datter !

Magnetisk j eg drages , thi j eg sr mand

0g som der sté’

tr hos en agtet forfatter‘

das ewig weibliche zieht un s an !’

This las t line contains the concluding words of the second partof Faust where they are from the lips of the

“ Chorus mys

ticus .

4 That these profound words are quoted by the worthless Peer under such peculiarly vulgar circums tances mightalmost seem an affront offered the great German poet . Oi

course it mus t be borne in mind that it is only Peer who is

quoting them and that he is in the habit of quoting as scriptureand otherwise a deal of miscellaneous matter

, still the “agtet

forfatter”is not exactly in the vein of Peer ’

s usual quotationsand one is doubtless j ustified in seeking Ibsen ’

s“self” be

‘ Cf. G . Brandes, D et modeme Gj ennembmds Mama, 2nd cd .

1 29 if . (first edition dates from‘ Cf. also his remarks on a Danish translation of F aus t, Brave, II,

1 70, 1 85 ( letters of 1 888 and also J. Paulsen, S amliv med Ibsen ,

Anden samling 90, 1 70 fi'

.

4f The fact that Ibsen has“an

”for hinan of the original shows

that he was quoting from memory (or was he purposely

240 Andrews

hind it.

5 At the same time one should note that in a letter

to Bj iirnson dated December 28 , 1 867 , i . e.,in the next month

after the appearance of Peer Gynt,“ Ibsen alludes twi ce to

Goethe or his works . This is all the more remarkable as Ibsen

was not at all in the habit of spicing his letters with literaryallusions . In the first of these Gotz von Berltchtngen is cited

as a type of real poetry as distinguished from mere allego ry .

In the second,advising Bj iirnson to leave his own country,

Ibsen expresses his conviction that in Goethe ’

s time the people

of Weimar probably formed his leas t appreciative public . N ei

ther of these allusions savors in any way of a failure on the

part of Ibsen to appreciate the poetic'

greatness of Goethe, and

it is in fact not entirely the spirit of opposition to, still less

that of contempt for F aust that we shall find in Peer Gynt,

but rather again one of revision . This attitude applies partie

ularly to the subject which through the most of his literarycareer lay near Ibsen ’

s heart, the woman-question . At

the close of F aust we are shown the spirit of the woman whoselife Faust had ruined leading hi s soul to higher spheres .

”

At the close of Ibsen ’s poem Peer Gynt

’s soul seems s imilarly

to be saved through Solvej g’

s love (at leas t she herself is con

fident that such is the case, a confidence not necessarily sharedby the reader nor actually confirmed by the author ) but thisoutward similarity seems coupled with very essential difference in that Peer Gyn’

t has done nothing whatever to deservesalvation . He appears the exact antithesis of the striving andaspiring Faust in that he has taken as guide of action and

motto of life the going round about difficulties and being self

sufii cient. Solvejg, who is firs t presented to -us carrying a

psalm-book as Margarete is just coming from confession is,

unlike the latter ,able by force of character and of purity to

repel the advances of her beloved, though hers elf endowed

wi th infin ite devotion and in no respect deficient in the wom

auly graces and Virtues .

7

5 1“ Kj cerlighedens Komedia ( Ibsen’s S amlede Vwrker , Mindeadgavo,

I, 327 ) the German poet is referred to as“

geheimeré d G 5 the

Breve fra H enrik Ibsen , I, 1 64.

? The similarity between S olvej g and Margarete is well brought out

by A . Ehrhard , H enr ik Ibsen et la théatre contempom tn (Paris ,


242 Andrews

correspondence lies in the fact that Faus t was taken to the“Hex enkiiche

”to secure the mag ic potion which was to re

juvenate him and prepare him for his career as a sensualist ;while there he was treated to a mirrored vis ion of a wondrous

ly beautiful woman and was informed by Mephistopheles afterhaving drunk the potion that he would soon see Helen in every

woman . The troll-king also has a means of transformation,

a simple operation on the eye in this case, 1 2 which in additionto the tail and the other accessories will final ly make Peer

over in to a genuine troll and cause him to see his troll-brideno longer as an ugly troll

,but as a beautiful woman . Peer

refuses to submit to the operation not because he particularly

objects to becoming a troll,but because he doesn ’t like to enter

into a s tate from which he can not withdraw again . The“Baj g

”Ibsen has of course taken from the trolls of the

Huldre-Eventyr , but the real significance he has given it as

the power that bids Peer go round about and through whichhe is unable to force h is way is not without relation to the

Erdgeist ,” which Faust conjures up only to have his in

tellectual aspirations das hed by the information that he can

not comprehend it. As Faus t in his subsequent despair wasabout to take his own life, the Easter-song (introduced by theringing of bells ) saved him to the world. So Peer Gynt after

his experience with the Bajg is saved from death only by the

ringing of bells and psalm-s inging.

1 3 Ibsen lays emphas is on

the fact that women (Solvejg and Peer ’s mother ) are respon

s ible for this bell-ringing . In both works the introduction of

irrelevan t contemporary satire is conspicuous in the troll

and witch-scenes .

1 4

In Ibsen ’s lengthy fourth act Peer Gynt after ripe experience

1”The idea of this operation was suggested by A sbj arnsen ; cf.

Woerner, H enrik Ibsen, I, 233 f., where a convenient list of matter

taken by Ibsen from A sbj arnsen (and Moe ) is given.

”The ringing of church-bells as a means of dispelling trolls was of

course available from A sbj arnsen’s Haldre—E’

ventyr, where it is mentioned several times, and Peer had been saved from the other trollsshortly before by means of it.

I“A“

professortrold”,

“bispetrold

”,

“folketrold

”and

“digtertrold

”Ib

sen left out in the poem as finally published (Cf. Efterladte S krifter,I I , 94

Ibsen’s

“ Peer Gynt and Goethe’s

“ F aust

is taken to the southward like Faus t in the second part,1 5

and possibly as a whims ical counterpart to the latter ’s union

with the restored Helen (marriage of the North with the

South ) we are treated to Peer ’

s amour with the Arab girl An itra. Faust was deeply imbued with a desire for knowledge, a

desire dashed by his meeting with the “Erdgeis t Peer after

his humiliating experience with An itra decides to devote himself to the intellectual , to investigate the past, with Which end

in view he wanders about Egypt with a note-book, only to fall

in with a German of the significant name of Begriffenfeldt,

the head of an insane asylum in Cairo, who has hims elf justgone crazy

,and who takes Peer back to the asylum where

he is crowned as kej ser .

1 6 As in the ClassischeWalpurgisnacht ” sphinxes among other creatures appear recalling the“Walpurgisnacht ” of the North

, so the Egyptian Sphinx

and the column of Memnon recal l to Peer the “Baj g

”and his

experiences with the trolls in the Dovrefj eld.

1 7 Just before

these Egyptian experiences a vision of Solvej g appears as had

a vision of Gretchen to Faust in the“Walpurgisnacht ,

”but

what a contras t between the happy devoted Solvejg and the

guilty Gretchen ! It might seem far-fetched to conn ect themonkeys who in one scene molest Peer with the “Meerkater

”

and his family of the“Hex enkiiche,

”di d not Ibsen himself

express ly recall the troll-scene in the s cene with the monkeys .

1 8

As Faus t finally found eager occupation in the restoration of

” Somewhat further, it is true, to northern Africa. Greece does

not however pass unmentioned, but that country Peer is inclined to avoidbecause of the war in progress there. F ar from sympathizing withGreece he rather conceives the idea of loaning money to the stronger

1 ° In connection with this relationship J Collin (H earth Ibsen, p.

324) speaks of Peer as der neue Wagner. Peer’s ambition to become

“kej ser

”seems to have been suggested to Ibsen by S chack

’s Phantas teme

( 1 8 5 7 cf. Woerner, H enrik Ibsch ,I, 2 5 8 E. Woerner, strangely enough,

denies a direct influence ) , which may well also be responsible for the

introduction of the insane asylum.

1" Cf. Collin, op. cit., p. 324.

1 ‘ Collin (pp. 31 9 f.) compares an episode from Holberg’s N iels t n,which appears indeed to have given Ibsen the idea of the adjustable tail

and its ornamentation with colored bow (cf. already Woerner, H enrik

Ibsen, I, 391 .

244 Andrews

land from the sea by means of dikes and drainage Peer Gyntconceives temporarily the fantastic idea of letting the water

of the ocean into the low parts of the Sahara and thus gainingland for cultivation and culture. That the las t really sug

ges ted itself as a counterpart to the German feature is ratherconfirmed, if confirmation were necessary , by lines discardedby Ibsen in his published work,1 9 in whi ch he speaks of the

desert as“et Dadens Holland .

That in the fifth act the discuss ion as to the final dispositionof Peer ’

s soul stands in some relation to F aust has long sincebeen noted . It may be said that in addition to the uncannyfellow-pas senger , who is not the devil , and the fantas ticbutton-moulder, who appears as a servant of the higher powers and whose occupation was sugges ted by circums tances of

Peer ’

s early life,20the devil hims elf is actually introduced , and

much in the spirit of Goethe ’s Mephistopheles . There is con

siderable allus ion to the horse ’s hoof as in F aust, and the devil

appears in response to Peer ’s need of confession disguised as

a pas tor, as Mephistopheles among various disguises masqueraded on occas ion for example as a teacher. F or Ibs en ’

s characterization of him as

“den Magre”

Collin 2 1 has called atten

tion to the agreement with Goethe ’

s conception of Mephistopheles . The idea of moulding the soul over again as unfit for

either heaven or hell shows F aust already modified by the

Danish works Paludan-Miiller ’

s Adam Homo (1 841 -48 ) and

Heiberg’

s E h S j cel efter Baden as is well known . The

former of these is an epic dealing with a (from any ideal point

of view ) human failure, whose soul after death is placed on

trial and finally led by that of Alma, a woman once loved by

” Efterlad te S krifter, II, 104. That in Peer’s idea of calling thi sland

“Gyntiana

”and transplanting the N orwegian race thither there is

contained a satirical allus ion to Ole Bull’s colony “

Oleana”in Penn

sylvania ( 1 8 5 2- 5 7 ) has been noted ; cf. Efterlad te S krifter, I, p.

LXXII . 1 909 .

” Oehlens chlager’s A laddin ( 1 805 ) apparently suggested the idea of

moulding the soul over ; cf. Collin, H eurih Ibsen, 338 . Other features of

Peer Gynt recalling this work make it probable that Ibsen in satirizingromanticism had it definitely in mind.

”H en rik Ibsen,341 .


246 Andrews

gard it as directed against Germany or the German people

through the medium of its representative, Faust .2 5 It seems

rather inspired by flaws which Ibsen thought he detected in

the character of Goethe ’

s hero , flaws which he wished to

make appear to correspond to the weaknesses of Peer Gynt :

egotistical selfishnes s , the avoidance of personal respons ibility

and generally the lack of a sustained indomitable purpose,the failure to be a personality as Ibsen at that time conceived

of personality.

A . LEROY ANDREWS .

Cornell University .

3“In a letter of 1 873 (Brave,I, 277 f. ) Ibsen took occasion to protest

against the accusation of having directed a poem against Germany.In 1 871 he had been obliged to defend himself against a petty accusation of the sort appearing in a German periodical (cf. Brave, I, 329 f.Efterladte S krifter, I, 298 The satire o f Germany or the Ger

mans in“V on Eberkopf

”is only parallel to that of England, F rance

and Sweden ; in Begrifi‘

enfeldt”is satirized not Germany, but the

Hegelian philosophy (cf. Collin, op. ci t. 326

DeQuincey’s Love of Music 7

DEQUINCEY’S LOVE OF MUSIC .

At its bes t , the prose style of Thomas DeQuincey is mus icalto the core. Other prose—all noble prose

,indeed- is rhyth

mical , whether Arnold ’s,Macaulay ’

s,or Pater ’

s . But De

Quincey ’

s in the Confessions of an Opium Eater, in some of

his Autobiographical papers , in his Joan of Arc or the EnglishMail Coach , has more than rhythm ; it has underneath a mel

lowness of tone wich sugges ts the depths of subliminal music ,to borrow a psychological term , as if the very central thoughtwere conceived in musical phras es , and were developed by

means of harmony and counterpoin t . It is a style consciouslyor unconsciously modulated

,wi th development and progres

s ion s trangely s imilar to musical compos ition .

Although such effects are present to the sensitive ear,their

complete analys is will be admitted imposs ible. And yet, were

one to make a guess at efficient cause,one might say that such

style could flow only from a man to whom music was not

merely an enjoyment , but a reality and a necess ity ; and one

might well hark back to Milton with his organ-toned verse,which critics sometimes hold to be born of his love of mus ic

,

and of organ music in particular . One might so guess , indeed , and with a tolerable feeling of security. Fortunately,however, such a supposition is bas ed on tangible facts . In

many places here and there throughout his works,DeQuincey

drops a bit of information,a phrase a reference which makes

unmistakable in him a rare sens ibility to music—a sensibility

as he wr ites in his“Recollections of Lamb ” 1 “ rising above

the common standard—viz.

,by the indispensableness of it

to my daily comfort, the readiness with which I make any

sacrifice to obtain a‘ grand debauch ’

of this nature.

”So

frequent are these passages and so definite are they in theirinformation , that those who are not too sceptical may reasonably believe in the connection between his pass ion for mus icand his prose style.

As a boy , DcQuincey’s opportunities to hear music at home

could not have been many. The atmosphere of his mother ’s

house, evan gelical with all the severity of Hannah More, was1 (J'ollected Writings , L ondon, 1 896, I I I , 45 : cf. J . Hogg, DeQm

’

nceyand his F riends , p. 227.

248 Eaton

hardly favorable. And yet he may have heard some mus icfrom a young woman for a time governess of his s ister

, a

Miss Wesley,2niece of the great preacher, and a member of

a fami ly noted for mus ical talent. Outs ide,however, there

was the mus ic of the English church service.

“I loved un

speakably the grand and varied system of chanting in the

Romish and English churches , ” he writes in one of his auto

biographic sketches .

3 “And

,looking back at this‘

day to the

inetfable benefits which I derived from the church of my childhood

,I count among the very greates t thos e which reached

me through the various chants .connected with the ‘O, Jubil

ate,’the

‘Magnificat,’the

‘Te Deum ,

’

the‘Benedicite, ’

etc.

Now and then , too, he heard the larger choral works of Handel .He writes in the same essay—“

Introduction to the World of

Strife” 4—that already at eleven,

“ with Handel I had longbeen fami liar, for the famous chorus s ingers of Lancashiresang continually at churches the most effective parts from hischi ef oratorios . On rare occas ions , also

,there were vis its

to his guardian B,

”in whose house before he was eleven

years old,DeQuincey heard the children of the family sing

the old English glees and madrigal s .

” “There first,

”he

continues , “I heard the concertos of Corelli ; but also

,which

far more profoundly afiected me, a few selections from Jo

melli and Cimarosa But above all, a thing

which to my dying day I coul d never forget , at the house of

this guardian I heard sung a long canon of Cherubini’s

It was sung by four male voices , and rose intoa region of thrilling pass ion , such as my heart had always

dimly craved and hungered after , but which now first interpreted itself, as a physical poss ibility, to my ear .

”

Yet, devoted as he was to music , his mother and guardiansseem to have made no systematic attempts to have him study

it. Indeed, the only knowledge of music which he claims as

a child is that of chanting, gained as he half humourous lysays , from the son of another—a reverend—guardian , much

older than himself , who “

possess ed a s ingular faculty of pro

2 Works , I, 1 35 , n.

Works , I, 73.

Works , I, 109 .


25 0 Eaton

Catalani , that marvel of women ,

” “ that mighty enchant

Mingled with the old London operatic memories which al

ways seemed to afford him such intens e pleasure, ” writes Mr .

James Hogg 9of DeQuincey

’s later years ,

“ there appeared to

stand out clearer than all else the recollection of the chiefpieces played by every great vi olinis t whom he had heard .

”

Concerts , then ,also attracted him.

Of course, during the life at Grasmere in his lonely cottage,and later when married there, the mus ical feasts must havebeen rare indeed. Unles s he traveled to London or Edin

burgh , or some of the greater provincial cities—as , indeed,he often did —opera

,concert

,or even good church music was

unattainable. He mus t content hims elf wi th the occas ionaldomestic music of the neighbors , or find enjoyment in the

mere whistling of a native postillion .

The removal to Edinburgh in 1 828 seems hardly to have

made more music poss ible. Poverty,the struggle with ill

health and Opium, afforded him small chance to take advantage

of the Opportunities of even a provincial town . His increas

ing shyness in public , moreover, his shri nking from going anywhere among strangers , made his life more and more that ofa reclus e. His growing daughters

,however, were fortunately

mus ical ; and we have an occas ional account by friends of

pleasant evenings at Lasswade.

“Music and laughter” 1 ° was

what DeQuincey promised visitors , a promise apparently de

lightfully fulfil led.

“He exulted in the fervor of express ion

and the mus ician -like touch and facility of execution withwhich his youngest daughter, s till under professional in

struction,rendered Beethoven ’

s Sonata Pathetica,”

etc .

writes Mr . Jacox ;1 1

and elsewhere,1 2 “ Fond as he was of mu

s ic, he was not often in the room while his two younger

daughters played or sang during my stay ; but he was a good

lis tener, for all that,in his

‘

den ’ down stairs , and would com

ment on his favorites among their pieces when he rejoined

° Hogg, p. 1 85 .

1 ° Page, L ife and Writings , I, 374.

Hogg, p. 229 , (The same R eminiscences by Jacox are in Ja’

pp’s ;

DeQ .

’s L ife and Writings , L ondon, 1 890. pp. 295 if.)

1’ H o 228 .

DeQm’

ncey’s Love of Music 25 1

Yet now and then ,apparently, he went to a public concert

hall during the las t ten years of his life. In 1 8 5 5 he planned

to take his daughters to hear Mendelssohn ’s St. Paul ,

1 3and

again to a concert given by Madame Pleyell. 1 4 Within the

same years also, he heard with unspeakable j oy , as Mr . Hogg1 5

tells us,a concert by the Hungarian Violinist , Remenyi .

Mus ic was a necess ity to him to the end ; and in those las tyears he declared that if ever again he Visited London , itwas his hope to frequent the opera.

” 1 7

Such broadly are DeQuincey’s mus ical experiences . From

early childhood up to extreme old age, music was indeed tohim a reality, a prepossession . Whenever he could hear mus iche did ao, and always found in it the greates t j oy . His taste,moreover, seems to have been catholic . He tound the Ital

ians s ingularly impress ive—Corelli , Jomelli , Cimarosa, Pergoles i

,Bellin i ; mos t of all Cherubini

,whose canon al ready

spoken of, was to him unspeakably thrilling .

1 8 He found j oyin the Germans

, too , if unappreciative for the mos t part ofMendelssohn , laughing at the music to Sophocles ’

s Antigone,

cold to the Songs without Words and the vocal duets , thoughman ifes tly interes ted in the St. Paul . Handel he knew early

,

and more than once mentions ; Spohr he knew to some extent ,and Weber. 1 9 But it is the mus ic of Mozart and Beethoven 2 °

which awakened his chief en thusiasm— “the perfect mus ic of

Mozart and Beethoven ,

”Don Giovann i

,Fidelio, and the So

nata Pathetica.

2 l

But he was not above more popular things . He writes of

” Page, I I, 100.

1‘ Page, I I , 98.

1“Hogg, 1 8 5 .

1 ° In 1 8 5 6 he says in one letter that the only time he stepped uponth e street during three or four weeks was when he went out to hearGrisi sing. Page, L ife, I I, 1 1 3.

17 Hogg, 227.

1"Works, I, 1 09 ; Hogg, 228-9 .

1°Hogg, 228 ; Works, X , 381 -383 f. ; Page, II, 1 00.

2° Hog'

g, 228 ; Works, I, 1 98.

“1 It is perhaps surprising that there are, on the whole, so few references to music and musicians in his works when one considers how muchmusic meant to him.

25 2 Eaton

getting the lovelies t of waltzes for Emily . Mrs . Lushingtonhas played it for me a dozen times . It is a perfect dream

of beauty.

” 2 2 “Nor would he tire,

” writes Mr . Jacox ,

23 “of

such time-tried strains as‘Time hath not thinned

,

’ ‘O lovely

peace,’ ‘In chaste Susanna ’

s praise,Down the dark waters ,

’

‘By limpid s treams

,

’ ‘And wi ll he not come again ? ’ ‘

Birdsblithely s inging, ’

etc. But it is the undoubtedly great

things which hold his memory and admiration ; and the list

of such pieces as he liked is on . the whole, even ,at this day ,

excellent . Without thorough training in music , guided only

by natural refinement and tas te,he need never have been

as hamed of his mus ical choice.

His taste was native ; for as has been said , he was withouttechnical training in mus ic—a fact we gather from two circums tances :—first, nowhere does he mention any mus icalstudy except that one abortive attempt at the ManchesterGrammar School ; and second , in no passage in his voluminouswritings does he show any precise knowledge of musical formor express ion . There is much intelligent appreciation , muchsens itive reaction and enjoyment ; but of definite mention of

the special problems of the composer and the performer, suchas orchestration , development of theme, or technique of: even

his favorite violin—to no such ques tions is there any allusion .

This fact might not be conclus ive in itself,were it not for

the first reason ,in connection with the frequency with which

he might have spoken of some such techni cal points ; would,almost certainly have done so, had he had the necessary knowledge. And there is still another reason which makes it seem

unl ikely that he had technical knowledge. That is, the nature

of the enjoyment which he derived from mus ic . It is thi snature of his enjoyment which is next before us

, and whichis curiously at one with what we should expect of the authorof the Confess ions .

There is in DeQuincey’s attitude toward mus ic almost al

ways a certain excitement . Mus ic in so far as it was a neces

sity of his nature,appealed strongly to his sensitiveness to

artis tic efiects . Emotional in his appreciation of so much inPage, L ife, I, 342 .

Hogg, 228.


25 4 Eaton

other friend .

26 “The young ladi es played overtures and other

pieces on the piano, one of which DeQuincey particularlypraised, saying it soothed him like a delicious anodyne. Miss

Florence remarked that it was a poor compliment to the musicto say that it sent him to sleep . He explained to her , withburlesque excess of particularity and politeness—the humorof which he himself evidently enjoyed as keenly as the amused

auditors— that it was really the highest compliment he could

pay to it, for hemeant that the music was giving him the greatest spiritual gratification , and being to him for the time the

highest good , as making him,usually so miserable, temporarily

happy ; and therefore fulfilling its purpose, though not per

haps,in the ordinary way , or according to rule.

”

In each cas e DeQuincey is rapt out of himself. In the first

he feels the excitement which makes it imposs ible to sit quietin the thrill of expectation and j oy in the second, the raptur

ous enjoyment which caused him to lie back as in a trance ;in the third

, the mus ic is to him a delicious anodyne—inall these he shows himself utterly absorbed, utterly given up

to the intens e delight which music had for him. Such absorp

tion,moreover, must have been his habitual attitude. The

picture which he gives of his listening to Grass ini shows himself in an abnormal s tate ; but the normal state is undoubt

edly found in thi s trance-like pas s ivity of body . Surely this

was his attitude in early youth as well as in age, and a pass

age of the Confess ions otters interesting confirmation .

As a boy he gave up his one attempt to acquire the art of

piano playing because he soon found,characteristically

,that

practice of eight or even ten hours a day would be necessary

for any real efficiency ; but chiefly because of this fact —“Too

soon I became aware that to the deep voluptuous enjoyment

of mus ic absolute pas siveness in the bearer is absolutely

indispensable. Gain what skill you please, nevertheless activi

ty , vigilance, anxiety,must always accompany an elaborate

effort of musical exertion ; and so far is that from being reconcilable with the entrancement and lull essential to the true

fruition of music , that , even if you should suppose a.

vas t

” J . R . F indlay, in Hogg, p. 1 33.

DeQuincey’s Love of Music 25 5

p iece of mechanism capable of executing a whole oratorio, butrequiring at intervals a co-Operating impulse from the foot of

the audi tor, even that , even so much as an occas ional touchof the foot would utterly undermine all your pleasure.

” 2"

This is the same complete absorption in the sensuous effectand yet not completely sensuous .

It was not mere sensuous pleasure which so held him. De

Quincey was at bottom intellectual . Even the joys of opiumwere in some measure intellectual . The intense Vividn ess of

his dreams , the overwhelming, almost painful, beauty of his

visions charmed the intellectual man . N ever for a moment

could one compare his opium dreaming with that of a gross

Chinese sailor. DeQuincey by delicacy of organism reacheds ingular altitudes of intellectual delight . Hedonist he was ,indeed not sensual ist . In this very love of music DeQuinceycompares hims elf with Wordsworth and his sister in their loveof nature—a comparison not to be disregarded in explaininghis own feelings .

2 8 “Mus ic,

”he further says in another

pas sage already quoted in part ,2 9 “

is an intellectual or a sensu

al pleasure according to the temperament of him who hears itThe mis take of most people is to suppose that

it is by the car they communi cate with music , and thereforethat they are purely pas sive to its effects . But this is not so ;it is by the reaction of the mind upon the notices of the

ear (the matter coming by the senses , the form from the mind )that the pleasure is cons tructed ; and therefore it is that people of equally good ear difi

’er so much in this point from one

another. Now Opium by increasing the activity of the mind ,generally increases

,of necessity, that particular mode of its

activi ty by which we are able to construct out of the raw

material of organic sound,an elaborate intellectual pleasure.

But, says a friend, ‘a success ion of musical sounds is to me like

a collection of Arabic characters ; I can attach no ideas to

them .

’Ideas ! my dear friend ! there is no occas ion for them ;

all that clas s of ideas which can be available in such a case

has a language of representative feelings it is”Works, III, 270.

3"Works, II I, 4 5 .

‘9Works, III, 390.

25 6 Eaton

sufficient to say that a chorus , etc.,of elaborate harmony dis

played before me, as in a piece of arras work, the whole of mypast life—not as recalled by an act of memory , but as if present and incarnated in the music ; no longer painful to dwellupon

,but the detail of its incidents removed, or blended in

some hazy abstraction ,and its passions ex alted,

‘

spiritualised

and sublimed .

”

This long excerpt may be j us tified by its significance. The

opium,it tells us , merely intens ified for him the normal pleas

ures of music , by increasing the activity of his mind . And

for him, the mus ic called up with unusual vividness floods of

remembrance, not di stinctly as memories , but resolved into

emotions transformed or heightened; incarnate in the music ;all painful incidents softened by the incarnation ; not ideas ,but if one may say so

,intellectual feelings , the direct appeal

of sound to emotions through the medium oi. quickened asso

ciation in the mind . Nowhere, probably, coul d one find an

expression more admirable of the aim of music . But—and

it is noteworthy— there is no word of the appreciation of the

techni cal form of mus ic ; although one might well imagine insuch moods of Opiate elevation

,mere matters of form

were not likely to claim thought or feeling,perhaps could not.

Yet in the after discuss ion of his enjoyment, one familiar withmus ical technique could hardly fail to as cribe some of his

pleasure to some such knowledge.

As one might expect of a man who found such j oy in the

stimulated emotional and intellectual activity of mus ic , themore impas sioned moments have for him the greatest appeal .

He rejoices in all sorts , indeed . He finds pleasure even in the

jew ’s harp , when well played ; 3° in the improvisations of the

ventriloquist . He declares them on occasion “capable of woo

ing St. Cecelia to listen .

”But it is the full turbulent mus ic

which gives him most pleasure. To this he cons tantly refers :—to the

“ impass ioned music of the highest class—the im

pas sioned mus ic of the serious opera the music composed byBeethoven as an Open ing for Biirger

’

s L enore,“the running

idea of which is the triumphal return of a crusading.

hos t ,a”Works , I I , 35 3 f.


25 8 Eaton

How far this correspondence was known to DeQuincey himself is dificult to tell ; and yet there is a passage descriptiveof musical express ion ,

near the beginning of his well-known

essay on Style,32 both eloquent and pertinent. He is dis

cussing the obtuseness of the English to musical art. In the

course of his remarks he speaks of the limitations of the meretune as compared with “

the most elaborate mus ic of Mozart”

—“A song, an air, a tune— that is , a short success ion of notes

revolving rapidly upon itself— how could that,by possibility,

otter a field of compass sufficient for the development of great

mus ical effects ? The preparation pregnant with the future ;the remote corresponden ce the questions , as it were, which toa deep musical sense are asked in one passage and answered in

another ; the iteration and ingemination of a given effec t, mov

ing through subtle variations that sometimes disguise the

theme, sometimes fitfully reveal it, sometimes throw it outtumultuously to the blaze of daylight these and ten thousandforms of self-conflicting musical pass ion ,

—what room couldthey find

, what opening, what utterance, in so limited a field

as an air or song ?” Primarily a description of the movement

of great musical compos itions,is it not secondarily a perfect

des cri ption oi. his own ful l style, contrasted with the s imple

rythms of ordinary prose ? And is not this secondary application highly suggestive and easy to make after examining the

musical experiences and devotion of DeQuincey ? Certainly,to one who is not too sceptical as to the afiinity of style and

tas te, there is a vital connection between this love of musicand the elaborate prose of the great prose harmoni st .33

HORACE AINSWORTH EATON .

Syracuse University .

a°Works, X , 1 36 .

Page, II, 243, points out briefly this same correspondence betweentaste and style .

S tuart and Jacobite Lyrics 25 9

STUART AND JACOBITE LYRICS .

The hundred-odd years of conflict between the English Stuarts and their various opponents occasioned a large number ofcomparatively neglected songs and ballads ,— eulogy, satire,and historical narrative. The first two classes I shall not discuss in this paper

,nor shall I treat in any way the numerous

retrospective songs which appeared after political Jacobitismhad degenerated into a sentimental love of the white rose. I

shall confine myself to notes on the contemporary, his toricalballads written by the partisans of the Stuarts , and shall attempt to include every such ballad th at has reference to thetwo rebellions known as the Fifteen and the Forty-Five.

1

These historical ballads are numerous, and covering in their

inaccurate but rather interesting fashion the entire periodfrom 1 640 to 1 745 , record mos t of the events occasioned by thehostility towards the Stuarts . There are a few accounts of

early battles in the Civil War,and several on Montrose and

his campaigns . The Popish Plot , Rye Hous e Plot , and Monmouth ’

s rebellion ,which disturbed the reigns of Charles II

and his brother, are recorded in so many ballads that examplesmay be found in practical ly all collections of political verse.

The revolution of 1 688 , prolific of satire,was so disastrous to

the Stuarts that their supporters found little incentive to

chronicle its events . The most interes ting songs are Wh ig

accounts of the Irish campaign . Claverhouse, James Il ’s well

hated lieutenant , appears as the hero of one of the most

spirited Jacobite songs that has been preserved,

“The Battle

of Killiecrankie.

”In addition to this , there are songs re

cording other events in his career,—the affair at Pentland

Hills , and the two clashes so well known to all readers of Old

Mortality, at Loudon Hill and Bothwell Bridge. The first

Jacobite rising, the Fifteen , despite the fact that its end was1 It should be remembered that there is a large body of songs and

ballads on the Opposite side of the question, but with these I am not

concerned. N or shall I discuss the comparatively well-known workof men like Dryden, Suckling, and Cleveland. I am concerned primarilywith the waifs and estrays of royalist verse, the street songs whichmay be found scattered through such collections as the R owburghe

Ballads , but which have never been examined as a whole.

60 Snyder

inglorious , occasioned a few ballads of importance. Thirtyyears later came the Forty-five, when for a few months thesongs and ballads appeared as fas t as in 1 660. And then ,

following Culloden ,the Jacobites laid down their pens

,for

there was no longer a cause to support .

A .

F ROM 1 640 TO 1 689

Loyalis t accounts of battles fought in England during the

Civil War are few. Professor Firth has published four in thethird volume of the S cottish Historical Review,

2 which illustrate the eagerness of the King ’

s men to make capital out ofunimportant victories .

“The Tribe oft Banburye, in the

Percy F olio M83and three ballads in Rump Sangs ,

4after

wards reprinted in various places , may be added to this list,and passed without comment . The one good song reminis

cent of this period that I have been able to di scover is “Les

ley ’s March to Longmas ton Moor

,

”first printed in the Tea

Table Miscellany .

5 The song is well known , and need not be

printed here. A word concerning its authors hip,however

,is

in point. Ramsay marked it as an old song,”but gave no

indication of the source from which he had secured it. Modern

editors have not been able to say more than that this characterization may be accepted with hesitation . If Ramsay

wrote it, however, it is surprising that he left it so compara

tively unpolished .

6

Incidents in Montrose ’

s career are chronicled in six songs

which it is fair to call contemporary . Bonny John Seton ,

a popular ballad ,7neutral in its attitude, pictures Montrose

2 Pages 262 f. These are really ballads on the Bishops’ War

which preceded the Civil War.

' II, 39 .

The Battle of Worcester 1 5 3 ; Upon R outing the Scots Army248 ; and

“The Scotch War”, 228 .

The note in the Mins trelsy ,I I, 201 , is incorrect in giving the

Evergreen as the first place of publication.

° Allan Cunningham rewrote “Lesley’

s March” for his own Songs

of S cotland , and entirely missed the point of the satire. See V ol. II,

1 41 .

7 Child, IV , 5 1 ; no. 1 98 .


262 Snyder

N ow let us a’for L esley pray,

And his brave company,F or they hae vanquishd great Montrose,

Our cruel enemy.

The song on the affair at Corbiesdale was written some time after the Restoration ,

but it is fired by an animus against the

Wh igs which ten years had not sufficed to cool . It may fairly

be called a contemporary production .

1 2

Songs on the Restoration , which followed the execution of

Montrose after ten years , I purposely omi t . They are numer

ous,uninteresting, and fairly well known . Their historical

value, moreover, is slight . They are chiefly eulogies of CharlesII. Between this event and the so-called di scovery of the POpish Plot

,in 1 678

,there are few songs that concern us here.

It was a period productive of satire,a period in which party

feeling ran hi gh,but not a period in which many events de

manded chronicling in the ballads . Even the songs on the

Popish Plot are apt to be more satirical than historical . Thereare a good many of these stall ballads dealing with Oates ’

s

conspiracy, 1 3 and they evidence in impressive manner thewidespread excitement which prevailed. But since specimens ,at leas t , are eas ily access ible

,and there is nothing new in

either the forms or the temper of the songs , illustration doesnot seem necessary.

Shortly after Shaftesbury’s flight to Holland a plot was

set on foot to assas sinate the king and his brother James at

the Rye House farm, whi ch they were to pass on their wayhome from a N ewmarket Vis it. The plot mi scarried, theconsp irators were betrayed, and several , including some of

high station , executed . As in the case of the Popish Plot ,there is a good deal of contemporary literature reflecting the

temper of the times .

“ Three stanzas from “The Wh igs Ex

posed”are rather more interes ting than the average because of

1" S ir William Aytoun’s The Execution of Montrose is the best

tribute to the Marquis that has yet appeared. It is, of course, retrospective.

mHogg preserves several which seem to be genuine ; consult also

the R om. Bal. IV , 1 21 f V , 5 97 f.

1 ‘ See R ow. Bal. V , passim , fo r representative accounts .

S tuart and Jacobite Lyrics 263

their echoes of the civil war , and the references to Monmouthand Shaftesbury, the Whig leaders

N ow the plotters and plots are confounded,And all their designs are made known,

Which smelt so strong of the Roundhead,And treason of forty-one ;

And all the pious intentions,F or property, liberty, laws ,

Are found to be only inventionsTo bring in their Good Old Cause .

By their delicate bill of exclusion,So hotly pursued by the rabble,

They hoped to have made such confusionA s never was seen at old Babel

Then Shaftesbury’s brave city boys

And Monmouth’s country relations,

Were ready to second the noiseAnd send it throughout the three nations .

i l ;

The murder of father and kingAnd extinguishing all the right line

Was a good and a godly thingAnd worthy the Whig’

s design .

The hanging of prelate and peerAnd putting the guards to the sword,

And fleying and slashing lord-mayors,Was to do the work of the

Two years after the Rye House plot, James , Duke of

succeeded to the throne. In the same year Charles ’s illegiti

mate son ,James , Duke of. Monmouth , returned from his quas i

exile on the continent , proclaimed hims elf king, and raised thes tandard of rebellion: Despite a personal popularity whichhad for some time been a caus e of alarm to his uncle

,Mon

mouth found himself attended by but few followers . Whenhis poorly organ ized force met the royal troops at Sedgemoor,the battle was short and decis ive. Monmouth hims elf fled,

was found hiding in a field of grain,taken to London ,

and

promptly executed . Then came Jeffreys and the“ bloody

as sizes .

1 5 H ogg, I, 339 . It is perhaps unnecessary to point out that the

events of the last stanza never actually occurred .

264 Snyder

The suppress ion of the rebellion brought j oy to Tories and

Catholics alike, and ballads recounting the events of the threeweeks flooded the country .

1 6 Then as Lord Jeffreys ando

his

atrocities became notorious , a large number of songs reviling

him and his methods swelled the total to an almost unbeliev

able extent. The accounts of the rebellion are not unlike the

song from which I have just quoted ; the latter, though in some

ins tances published only after the Revolution of 1 688 , are in

teresting because of their presentation of the case from the

oppos ite point of view. I quote two stanzas from “ Jefferey ’s

Villainies Dis coveredThen next to the West he hurried with speed,To murther poor men, a very good deed !He made many honest men’

s hearts for to bleed.

Sing hey, brave Chancellour ! Oh fine Chancellour !

Delicate Chancellour, Oh !

The prisoners to plead to his L ordship did cry,

But still he made answer, and thus did reply,‘We

’ll hang you up first, and then after we’

ll try’!

Sing hey ! etc.

1 7

The Revolution of 1 688 did not offer loyalis ts many oppor

tunities for chronicling Victories,although naturally the

advent of William and Mary provoked an outburs t of

vituperative satire which increased in bitterness as the hopelessness of the Stuart cause became apparent . A few b istorical songs appeared , however, one of which is rather interesting because it is a frank imitation of an older popular ballad .

“The Belgi c Boar,

”a

“new song to the old tune of Chevy

Chas e,” 1 8 was written after James ’

s exile, but near enoughthe events it records to be called contemporary. It is the best

illustration I have found of a popular bal lad forced bodilyinto the service of the Stuarts . I quote the first three stanzas

to show the method us ed

1" See R ow. Bat. V , 608-739 .

R om Bal. V , 721 .

On Chevy Chase”and its history, see Geschichte der Ballade

Chevy Chase”, by Karl Messler, Berlin, 1 91 1 .


66 Snyder

tradi tional ballads are strongly anti-Stuart , reflecting the tem

per of the Presbyterian Covenanters ; to ofiset these are a few

songs equally bitter against the Cameron ians, and loud in

praise of Dundee

If we except The Battle of Pentland Hills , ”2 5 in whichClaverhouse

’s troopers are merely mentioned as the gallant

Grahams , ” the earlies t song on Claverhouse is the traditionalballad “

Loudon , Hill , ” or“ Drumclog .

” 26 This eas ily ao

cess ible vers ion is aWhig accoun t of the afiair, and is includedhere only for the sake of making the picture more complete.

The immediate result of the success of Robert Hamilton and

his followers at Loudon Hill was the summon ing of Monmouthand his army from across the border . The resulting battle at

Bothwell Bridge occas ioned several accounts which seem to be

contemporary . Of these the best known is the traditional“ Bothwell Bridge.

” 2 7 This too is s trongly anti-Stuart intemper. Equally bitter is a Whig chap-book

,

“Bothwell

L ines ”, with which , in the Harvard College library, is

bound up a Description of the Rebels in Scotlan d in Anno2 8 The forty-eight eight-line stanzas are for the mos t

part un interesting ; I quote three from the section which re

counts the two battles

A t L owdon Hill, as I hear sayThey set themselves in battil ray,

And solemnly did swear and say

They would not be remissTo fight the battles of the LordThey did consent with one accordAll who does suffer for the L ord

Shall have eternal bliss .

”Mins trelsy, I I , 244. S ee on this same afl’air

“The Covenanters ’

Army at R ullion Green Maidment’s Pasqm

'

ls,232.

” Child, IV , 1 05 ; no. 205 . A curious account of the murder of

Archbi shop Sharpe, which occasioned the battle at Loudon Hill, maybe found in R ow. Bal. IV , 1 5 0.

” Child, IV , 1 08 ; no. 206 .

” S cottish Poetry, Welsh Poetry, H . C . L . The volume is

a miscellaneous collection of chap—books.


N ow June the two and twenty day,At Bothwell Bridge began the play,At the first fire they fled away

A s sheep out of the fold.

Great things they promised to do,The which they solemnly did vow ;

But When the push they were put to,Their courage waxed cold.

Our Cannoneer gave such a blast,

That put them all in such agast,

Which made the first of them be last,

The swiftest led the V an .

F led from the Bridge, their great support,L ike cowardly cullions left their F ort,To see the flight it was good sport,

So couchingly they ran? ”

Another loyal ist accoun t of the same general sort , but more

spirited, is“The Battell of Bodwell-Bridge. I quote the

two best stanzas :

The good Earle o f A thole and gallant MontroseThey pulled the Whigs Piriweegs over their nose,Then Captains and Chieftains did sleep in their hose,When they came to the Battel of Bodwell .

The good Captain Clavers, with his good dragoons,He scattered the Whigs through the south country bounds,He gave them many sore deadly wounds,When they came to the Battel of Bodwell.” 3°

The bes t song on Bothwell Bridge is , I believe, the work of

James Hogg, and may be found in his collected works .

8 1

Claverhouse’

s last victory, won at Killiecrankie Pass in

1 689,cost him his life. The battle is celebrated in the most

spirited , and if one may judge by the number oi. times it hasbeen reprinted, the most popular of all the earlier Jacobite

lyrics . Practically every collection of Scottish poetry con

tains the vers es , beginning,Clavers and his Highlandmen

Came down upon the raw, man.

” This is from no. VIII, part II.

” F ugitive S cottish Poetry, cd . David Laing ; Edinburgh, 1 85 3. N um

ber XXXV.

“ F ive vols ., Glasgow, 1 838-1 840; see I, 284.

268 Snyder

Further quotation is unnecessary . The song remains anony

mous , despite the attempts of editors to find an author. Burns ’s

accoun t of Killiecrankie, “Where hae ye Been Sae Braw,

Lad ?”is probably founded on an older song

,which has un

fortunately disappeared .

32 Professor Firth has recently

printed a contemporary ballad on Claverhouse in the S cott

ish Historical Review for July,1 91 1 . Other contemporary

accounts of his campaigns I have not been able to find.

THE FIF TEEN

Between Killiecrankie, in 1 689,and the outbreak of the

first Jacobite rebellion in 1 71 5, there appeared few historical

ballads which come within the limits of this study. The satirists were never bus ier than during the early part of this period

, and part of their work, such as the songs on the Union ,

and on Bishop Sacheverell ’s sermon ,has a distinctly historical

value. But for the ballads whose chief purpose was to chronicle events , we have to wait un til 1 71 5 .

In this year the Jacobites made two feeble and unfortunate

attempts to res tore James Stuart to the throne. The Earl of

Mar,expecting aid from France, raised the standard in Sep

tember,and called on the Highlanders to support him. Two

months later the drawn battle of Sheriitmuir virtually put an

end to the ris ing . James did not reach his army till after

the battle, and then his despondency only added to the de

moralization . In the course of the winter he and Mar escaped

to France, leaving the army to the mercy of Argyle and the

English . This mismanaged affair, usually known as the

northern half, ” was no more unsuccessful than the southern .

William Mackintosh , Thomas Fors ter, and the Earl of Der

wentwater 33 led a small force into Northumberland , hoping

” See the Centenary Bum s , III, 8 1 ; also Child (British Poets ) ,V II, 1 5 3.

” F orster held the Pretender’s commission as General, and was the

leader of the five hundred English Jacobites . Mackintosh brought overa thousand Highlanders, in chief part from the clan Mackintosh. F orster, as commander, surrendered “

at discretion”to a force of hardly a

thousand men, in spite of the protests of Mackintosh and others .


270 Snyder

the Fifteen containing a direct reference to King James ’s part

in the ris ing that I have been able to find. It is printed in

Peter Buchan ’s (atteaf

rvings ,38

and may very well be genuine ;I quote six of the stanzas

Here begins the guid N ew Year,My mantle, my mantle,

Guid bless us a’that ’

s present here,My mantle

’s on the green hay. (re frain passion. )

King James is land’t at Peterhead,

Ane honor great to us indeed.

H e slept a’night in our good town

Upon a guid saft bed 0’down.

In the morning when he raiseThe Marischal’s bai llie brush’

d his claithes .

i ;

He’s come to set auld S cotland free

F rom curs’d Hanover’s tyranny.

Them that does not wish him well,My mantle, my mantle,

May highland clans wi’German steel

L ay their mantles on the green hay.

In the little group of songs dealing with the southern invas ion

,James Radcliffe, third Earl of Derwentwater, is the

central figure. A stall ballad On the Firs t Rebellion ” 39 was

not necessarily written after the Forty-five, despite the titlein Ritson

’s collection . The namemay have been changed to fit

the exigencies of the occas ion . It does not seem like a retro

spective song,though it is possible that the execution of the

younger Derwentwater, in 1 746, in fulfil lment of the sentencepassed in 1 71 6

,recalled the fate of the elder brother, and

gave the necessary inspiration to the balladist .Much more interesting is the traditional bal lad , Lord Der

wentwater .

” 4° Derwentwater is the central figure ; the only” Page 1 49 . Gleanings of S cotch, English, and Irish scarce old

Ballads , chiefly tragical and his torical, Peterhead, 1 825 .

“ N orthern Garland, cd . R itson, L ondon, 1 810; “The N orthumberlandGarland”

, 8 5 . Hogg prints a version of this as“An excellent N ew

Song on the Rebellion”, Hogg, II, 102 .

“ Child,IV , 1 1 5 ; no. 208 .


reference to the Stuarts or their claim occurs in the tenth

s tanza. After describing Derwentwater ’s summons to court ,

his will , and briefly , the ride to London, the account continues

When they came into fair L ondon townInto the courtiers’ hall,

The lords and knichts in fair London townDid him a traitor call.

A traitor ! a traitor ! ’ says my lord,‘A traitor ! how can that be,

An it was na for the keeping of five thousand menTo fight for King

It is the last of the popular ballads with which we shall beconcerned .

Derwentwater was executed in February,"

1 71 6 . A good

many songs have been written lamenting his fate, but few of

them are contemporary. A formal poem in the Towneley MS . ,

“On the Executions in is interesting solely be

cause of its un ques tionable authenticity. Hogg ’s

“O Beau

ti ful Brittania” 43 is undoubtedly a contemporary song,writ

ten soon after the r1s1ng , but thoroughly pedes trian .

“By

Carnousie’

s Auld Wa’s

”and When the King Comes O ’

er

theWater,” both popular

, are without much doubt spurious .

“

After the utter collapse of the Fifteen, the Jacobites triedto get help from Charles X II, then finishing a disas trous reignas King of Sweden . Two songs of ques tionable antiquity re

fer more or less directly to this plan ,but otter nothing of

special interest .“5

Hogg, and various editors s ince his time, printed other‘1 Ibid. IV , 1 1 7, A Text.“ Page 93.

”Hogg, I, 1 41 .

“ The former was not printed till 1 861 , in Mackay’s Jacobite S ongs

and Ballads of S cotland, and is a worked over version of Burns’s

“There’

ll

N ever be Peace Till Jamie Comes Hame.

”The second seems to have

been first printed by Hogg, (I, to whom I charge responsibility forthe song and the legend that it was written by L ady Keith.

“ The first is“Weel May We A ’ Be

”, Museum, IV , 1 67 the second,

Here’s A Health to the Valiant Swede”, which I have not round

printed earlier than Hogg, I I, 44 .

272 Snyder

songs on the Fifteen which have pas sed current . A few of

thes e, notably “Will Ye Go to Sheriffmuir ‘t

’ ” 6and

“The

Auld Stuarts Back Again ,

” 47one dislikes to give up,

for theyare good songs . But I can fin d no evidence that they deserveto be included in this class of contemporary documents

,and

not a little that they are retrospective.

48

This list of genuine Relics of the first rebellion is not long

enough to,

warrant many generalizations , but one fact seems

of sufficient importance to be noted . Loyalty to the Stuarts

is all but entirely absent . Clan feeling and sympathy

for Derwenm underly the bes t ballads,but it is

only occasionally that such sentiments appear as might havebeen expected from a nation in arms to support the exiled

house. Hog‘

g and his friends fil led their retrospective songs

with a sentimental sort of loyalty which has been accepted as

indicative of the attitude of the highlanders and other Jacob

ites in the army . But in the contemporary songs this is con

spicuously absen t , a fact that seems to confirm the Opinion thateven by 1 71 5 distrus t of the Stuarts , or at leas t indifference

to their fate, had become much more general than Mar and

his unfortunate as sociates realized .

C .

THE FORTY-F iVE

Thirty years after James Stuart made his first attempt to re

gain the throne, his son Charles Edward led the clans in the

las t Jacobite rebellion . Charles landed in Scotland as his

father ’

s representative, and in all proclamations,manifestoes ,

and orders , signed himself simply Prince Regent . ”In fact ,

however , he was the heart and soul of the ris ing. Without hispersonal appeal to Cameron of Lochiel, the first chieftain in

arms , it is doubtful whether the loyalists could have gathered“ Hogg, I, 1 49 .

" Ibid . I, 1 22 .

“ Hogg seems to have been the first man to discover them, a fact

in itself enough to create suspicion. Moreover, they are unlike the

doubtedly contemporary songs which have survived , and exactly of a

piece with the work which the Shepherd and his friends were doing inthe early part of the nineteenth century.


274 Snyder

L et Jchovab have glory, the King have the crown ;0 Heaven, assist him ! (he wants but his own)To pull usurpation and tyranny down ,

And prosper the cause of our

Two popular and spirited songs which ostensibly belong tothe same class I am sure are retrospective : “

The Athol Gathering

,

” 5 1and Wha Wadna Fight for Charlie.

” 5 2 Burns’s

“The White Cockade, ” firs t published in the Museum,

5 3 is

an adaptation of“The Ranting Roving Lad, printed in

Herd ’s 1 776 collection , p . 1 79

,not

,as the editors of the Gen

tenary Burns state,5 4 in Herd ’

s 1 769 collection . It is barely

possible that in the older song more is meant than meets theear , and that it is a veiled Jacobitism . On the face of it,

however,it is simply a love song.

The first actual battle in the Forty-five took place at Pres

tonpans , 22 September, 1 745 , after the Prince had occupied

the town of Edinburgh . The result is familiar to al l readers

of Waverley . One charge of the Highlanders drove Cope ’s

regulars from the field in a pan ic,and left Charles Virtually

master of Scotland. Contemporary record of the Victory ex

ists in the shape of some eleven songs or poems , a few of whichare widely known . Some

,on the other hand, may be dis

missed with a mention of their titles in the note.

5 5 Better thanthese is “

A Song Made in the Year which I have foundonly in the Towneley MS .

5 6 It is a chronicle of events from

the landing of the Prince till after Prestonpans , written by“ Page 79 .

“ Hogg, II, 97. This I credit to the Shepherd himself.ls" Ibid. 100.

5 3 N o . 272.

III, 35 3.

5 5 In this list are Hail Happy S cotland Towneley MS . 1 1 8 and 1 90

On the Signal Victory at Gladsmuir”, 1 745 Edinburgh Collection , 1 7

Ode to C . P . R . after the Battle of Gladsmuir”, ibid . 1 8 ;“N ow Charles

A sserts his F ather’s R ights”, Hogg, I I , 1 5 9 ; and General COpe

’s

Travels”, Mackay’s Jacobite S ongs , 240. William Hamilton of

Bangour, a Jacobite who suffered temporary exile for his loyalty,wrote soon after the battle an“Ode on Prestonpans and sometime

later A Soliloquy”, both of which may be found in his collected works,Edinburgh, 1 85 0.

“ Page 5 6.

S tuart and Jacobite Lyrics 27 5

some one who drew freely from the older Up andWar ThemA

’

,Willie”

and who also furnished Adam Skirving with a

few hints for “Prestonpans .

”

Skirving’s two ballads on this battle, Johnn ie Cope and

Prestonpans ”,are among the bes t that the Jacobites ever

wrote. The former seems to have been reprinted more often

than any I have found , and occurs not infrequently outs ide

of strictly Scottish collections . Skirving,“although a Ja

cobite, and apparently a spectator of the battle,seems to have taken no other part in the rising than by s ing

ing ballads about it.

” 5 7 But he wrote ballads which are bet

ter than even “ Killiecrankie or“Sheriftmuir .

” 5 8 The sec

ond of his two productions was printed, according to Pro

fessor Child, “shortly after the battle as a broadside.

” 5 9

L ike the first, it is eas ily / accessible.

One more ballad on Prestonpans completes the list . The

Mayor of Carlisle,” printed by Hogg in a slightly improved

form,

60 is inferior to Skirving’s work in almost every respect,

but should be noted because it is the only surely contemporarybal lad I have been able to find containing a reference to the

capture of Carlisle by the Jacobites .

6 1 In other respects itis unimportant.After taking Carlisle the Prince ’

s army marched south ,finally reaching Derby, where, 5 December, 1 745 , they began

the retreat into Scotland . There are few contemporary Ja

cobite accounts of the rest of the campaign . Arms and the

“ D . N . B . L II, 35 8 .

5 8 The best text of Johnnie Cope seems to be the one printed in

R itson , I I, 84, as a variation”. Hogg prints this as his

“second set

”,

I I, 1 1 3. Burns furnished a version to the Museum, no. 234, beginning“S ir John Cope trode the N orth right far

“ Child (British Poets ) , VII, 1 67. In“Arms and the Man London,

1 746, occurs an account of the rising interesting because it is sur

prisingly lenient towards the Highlanders . Hogg’

s version of this,I I , 1 40, has been worked over by some hand.

“ Hogg, I I , 1 34. A better text may be found in R itson,I I, 90.

61 Carlisle was subsequently retaken after the Prince had left it on

his retreat into Scotland, and many of its defenders executed . Amongthese was Col. F rancis Towneley, leader of a small band of EnglishJacobites, whose F rench commission did not save him.

276 Snyder

Mah , and its S equel, both London documents ,8 2 tell of General

Hawley ’

s defeat at Falkirk , 1 7 January, 1 746, and of a skir

mi sh in which the Prince ’s rear-guard under Lord George

Murray worsted a detachment of royal dragoons at Clifton .

Hogg prints two songs on Falkirk, “The Battle of Falkirk, ’ 6 3

and The Highlandmen Came Down the Hill , ” 6 4 Which are

surely retrospective, poss ibly his own work.

Ou the sixteenth of April , 1 746, the Duke of Cumberland

won the battle of Culloden ,and put an end to the Forty-five.

I have not found a s ingle contemporary loyalist account ofthis disaster. Plenty of songs were written sixty years later ,

but none, apparently, at the time.

6 5

A fter Culloden ,and largely as a result of the rigorous

measures which the government took to prevent any futureris ing

,there appeared a number of songs attacking the

“Bloody Duke, or lamenting the execution of the ScottishLords

, and a few pledging loyalty to the cause and urging a

third attempt .The songs of the first class are uninteresting, despite their

undoubted sincerity .

6 6 Two songs in Hogg’s Relies , The

Battle of Val” 6 7

and Up and Rin Awa’

,Willie

,

”8 8 do not

seem to have been written till some time after the affair.Burns

’

s“I Hae Been at Crookieden ,

”first published in the

Museum, is said by the editors of the Centenary to be“ founded on an old Jacobite rhyme, ” 7 ° but no traces of it

“2 See note 5 9 .

o”H oggv, II, 1 36 .

Ibid. II, 1 38.

“ The song R ed Clan-R onald’s Men Jacobite Mins trelsy, p. 302,

is pretty surely retrospective.

See for example, the two “epitaphs”, H 099 , I I, 375 ; Thou Butcher

of the N orthern Clime Towneley, 78 ;“Towneleys Ghost,

” ibid., facsimilefrontispiece , a rather good song, reminiscent in the first stanza of

David Mallett’s

“William and Margaret.”

This is misprinted by Hogg

as“Towley

’s Ghost.”

" Hogg, II, 1 96 .

“ Ibid . II, 1 77 .

“ N o. 332.

" Op. Cit. III, 374.


278 Snyder

It is probably retrospective ; perhaps the work of James

Rankine

Hey my EppieHow my EppieSae lang

’s she’

ll think ere she see me now ;

In strong prison I ly,Has no power to fly,

An’I

’ll never return to my Eppie, I trow .

F arewell to my EppieMy wish be wi’ Eppie,Too soon will my Eppie receive my adieu ;My sentence is pastThe mom is my last,

An’I

’ll never won hame to my Eppie, I trow.

O Eppie my dearestO Eppie my fairest,S ae mony sweet nights I hae spent wi’ you ;N ow cauld is my hands ,S leet in iron bands

I’ll never mair stretch them, dear Eppie , to you.

F arewell, etc.

The charge is prepared,The lawyers are met,

The j udges have raised a terrible show ;I gang undismayed,My life is a debt,

A debt of demands, sae take what I owe.

Wi’ the trumpet’s loud sounding

The city ’s rebounding,

U s that ’s poor pannels to our sentence maun bow ;

An’the morn

’s the knell

0’our sepulchre’

s bell,’Twill be a sad start to our Eppie, I trow.

But though I maun die

I boldly defy,My fee s for to say that my crime I do rue ;

N or needs my proud kin

Be ashamed of my s in,

But sad will the heart of my Eppie be, now.

Good angels bekeepingHer while she is sleeping,Cause fate may present my sad fate to her view ;


And when I am dead

S upport her widow’d head,

F or sad will the heart of my Eppie be now.

— F arewell, etc .

Still more recent than these laments are a few songs written some time after Culloden ,

pledging loyal ty to the caus e,and describing the condition of the Jacobites .

8 0 Hogg pre

serves a few of uncertain date,8 1 and at least one, of some

value,which may poss ibly, as the gloss to the title indicates , be

a production of 1 746 . The title is interesting, and indicatesthe general tone of the poem :

A ballad for those whose honour is sound,

Who cannot be named, and must not be found.

I quote the las t stanza

A health to those fam’d Gladsmuir gained,

And circled Derby’

s cross ;Who won F alkirk, and boldly strain

’d

To win Culloden moss .

Health to all those who’ll do

’t again,

And no j ust cause decline.

May Charles soon vanquish, and James reign,A s they did lang syne.

” 812

Some time before 1 769,—for the song is published in Herd ’s

collection of that year,—Douga1 Graham,

bellman of Glasgow,

wrote what may fairly be called the las t contemporary Jacobite lyric , Turnimspike.

”It is a resumé of the state of

affairs in Scotland after Culloden ,a humourous bal lad put

into the mouth of. a Highlander. It has been popular ever

since Herd printed it, and is easily accessible.

8 3 After this8° F ive in the Towneley MS . deserve passing mention. They are

The L oyal R esolutions”, p. 20;“England

’s Prayer”, p. 87 ;

“The

Patriot”, p. 1 1 7 ; (these three in couplets ) ; “A L itany for the Year

p. 108 ; and“F rom Caledonia’

s L oyal L ands”, pp. 1 and 5 5 .

81 “Come L et us be Jovial”, Hogg, I I, 71 , and Be Valiant Still”

ibid . 89 , are puzzling.

“An Yon be He ibid . 77, is made over from

a set in the Mus eum, and does not appear, even in its new dress , tobe a Jacobite lyric at all.

82H ogg, I I, 1 69.

”Hogg, II, 109 .

280 Snyder

the Poetry of the Jacobites becomes merely JacobitePoetry,

”and that is another s tory .

84

FRANKLYN BLISS SNYDER .

N orthwestern Uni versity .

The following works are cited by the abbreviations under which eachlisted here

1 745 Ed. C’oll.

“Collection of all Poems upon Charles, Prince of

Wales .

”Edinburgh, 1 745 .

Child.

“The English and Scottish Popular Ballad s.

” Edited byF . J Child ; five vols ., Boston, 1 882-1 898 .

Child (Britis h Poets ) .“English and Scottish Ballads.

”Selected

and edited by F . J Child ; eight vols., Boston, 1 85 7-1 85 9 .Hogg .

“The Jacobite Re lics of Scotland .

”James Hogg ; twovols ., Edinburgh, 1 81 9 , 1 821 .

Jacobite Mins trelsy.

“Jacobite Minstrelsy, with notes illus

trative of the text, ” etc. [Edited R obert Glas gow,

1 829.

Mins trelsy . S ir Walter Scott’s Minstrelsy of the S cottish Bor

der .

”Edited by T. F . Henderson ; four vols ., Edinburgh, 1 902.

Museum.

“The Scots Musical Museum. James Johnson ; sixvols ., Edinburgh, [ 1 787-1 803 ] Edited in four vols . by William

S tenhouse, Edinburgh, 1 85 3.

Pasquils .

“A Book of Scottish Pasquils . 1 5 68-1 71 5 . [James

Maidment] ; Edinburgh, 1 868 .

R itson. Scotish Song. [Joseph R itson ] ; two vols., L ondon,1 794.

R em. Bat. The R oxburghe Ballads”, with notes, vols . I-III by

W. Chappell ; vols . IV-IX edited by J . W. Ebsworth ; L ondon,1 871 -1 897.

Rump S ongs . An Exact Collection of Ye Choicest PoemsSongs, Relating to the late times , continued by the mos teminent witts, from AO 1 630 to 1 661 . London, 1 662.

Towneley MS .

“The Towneley Jacobite MS . ; Engli sh Jacobite

Ballads, Songs, and Satires .

”Edited A . B. Grosert, 1 877.

Privately printed .

Wilkins .

“Political Ballads of the Seventeenth and EighteenthCenturies .

”Annotated by W. Walker Wilkins ; two vols . , London,

1 860.


282 Alden

ly these various critics had in mind dramas of quite different

kinds , such as—at one extreme- those predominatingly tragic

but containing perhaps a s ingle comic interlude, and—at the

other— those in which a serious and a comic plot are intertwined .

Despite the numerous attacks directed against such usages

in earlier periods , and corresponding apologies in our own

time, there has been very little effort to examine the Eliza

bethan practice, or even that of Shakespeare, with a view to

as certain ing without prejudice just how far the mingling of

tragic and comic s cenes really went , and what it may be

thought to have sign ified in the art of the dramatists con

cerned . It is the object of this paper to ask these questions ,and to make some attempt to answer them by examining thepractice of Shakespeare in relation to that of his contemporarles .

It should be made clear at the outset that our study can

not take into accoun t by any means all the elements of wit andhumor which were introduced into tragedy in the period studied. To attempt any census or analysis of these

,as they flash

momentarily in dialogue,would be venturesome indeed . Only

those passages are to be cons idered which are clearly the re

sult of an intention to awaken laughter in the audience ; andsuch passages usually involve something of the ridi culous inaction as well as in speech . When s cenes of this characterare duly enumerated in the tragedies of Elizabethan times ,they are seen to fall into certain fairly distinguishable classes .

1 . Perhaps most characteristic , and certainly earlies t indevelopment , was what may be called the clown interlude. We

can easily trace the origins of this in familiar scenes in themys

teries and other early serious popular plays,where the desire

for variety was satisfied by farcical sub-action carried on by

personages of low life.

6 As soon as popular tragedy emerges

on the Elizabethan stage, s cenes set for a clown—sometimes

called s imply “ clown,

”sometimes by name—appear ; we may

° The notable examples , of course, are the N aah and S ecwnda Pas

tomm of the Wakefield cycle. F or discussion of the comic elements

here, see Professor Gayley’s essay in R epresentative English Comedies ,

i, p. xxviii.

Use of Comic Material in Tragedy of Shakespeare 283

take as typical the scene between Wagner and the Clown in

Marlowe ’s F austus .

’ When these clowns are identified as

individuals with a normal environment, they are commonly

country boors or servants of rural origin ,but it seems im

poss ible to draw the line between the true clown of this character and the servant of more sophisticated sort .8 F or the Lon

don public of Shakespeare ’s time the servant-class seems to

have proved amus ing almos t without limit why this is true,—why

,for that matter, house-servants in England seem to

this day to afford those whom they serve rather more funthan in mos t other familiar countries ,— let the wise explain .

It is _ clear enough to any reader of Elizabethan drama thatwhen the servants appear comedy may be looked for, no lessin tragedy than elsewhere. Some representative scenes maybe cited as exemplifying the indefinable passing over of the

pure clown interlude, accomplished by a character recognizedclearly as

“ clown,

” into the servant-interlude where some

realistic humor of character is availed of to give the same sortof variety wi th rather less interruption of the main action .

In The Spanish Tragedy, Act III, occurs an ~ interlude scene(v ) in which a servant-boy soliloquizes amusingly ; while inthe following scene (vi ) Pedringano ,

servant to Bel-Imperia,indulges in comic by-play with the hangman . In Arden ofF eversham (II, Michael , Arden ’

s servan t, at the opening

of a scene fraught with the ‘ most serious import , entertains

his auditors with a comic love-letter to his mis tress Susan ;and again

, in the first scene of Act IV ,indulges in horse

play and head-cracking with hi s rival the painter . In Part

Two of Tamburlafine a bit of comic prose concludes the first

scene of Act IV,where Calyphas indulges in ribald dialogue

with his servant Perdicas . In Faustus, besides the clownscene already mentioned, we have the scenes in the inn-yard

where Ralph and Robin make merry and engage together in7 S cene iv.

8 F or the connection of“clown” with a definite social class , compare

the line from a R obin Hood ballad :“Both gentleman, yeoman, and

clown .

”And for the disputed etymology of the word, as well as for

a general discussion of the clown on the stage, see J Thiimmel, Ueber

S hakespeare’

s Clowns , Jahrbuch», x 1 , 78 .

284 Alden

the conjuring of Mephistopheles . In The Jew of Malta, Ithamore, Barabas

’s slave, adds comic touches to the villainy of

the action in several scenes of Act IV , and in the last of them

Barabas himself condescends to take an amusing part. In

Marston ’s Antonio

’s Revenge the servant Nutriche provides

two or three comic scenes , in this case rather more closely interwoven with the main plot than commonly. Finally wemay note the interesting group of servant interludes in Hey

wood ’

s A Woman Ki lled with Kindness , which are less purely

clownish and more realistically human than almost any of the

period except the Nurse s cenes in Romeo and Juliet. Hey

wood,in other words , caught the notion of making his comic

figures blend with the tragic action through their loyal concern with it.

9

2 . One may dis tinguish from these interlude scenes a

few instances where a character of the clown type, or a sub

stitute type, develops into such importance as to reappear in

a number of s cenes at intervals,and to form a kind of sec

ondary motif or even under-plot for the play . Of. this theearliest instance is the anonymous Locrine, where there isinterwoven with the s tately scenes of the chronicle a series of

appearances of Strumbo the cobbler (whose companions are

significantly called“ clowns ”

in the list of dramatis perso

nae) at length , in the second scene of Act IV ,the Strumbo

° N otice especially the figure of Jenkin, in II, iii, IV , iii, and V , iii.Before leaving these servant clowns it may be pleasant to recall howM. Maeterlinck has experimented with the Elizabethan practice, to

vary the usual monotone of his poetic tragedies, in one scene of

Pelle’as and Melisande (V , i ) . While the princess is dying, upstairs,the old cook in the kitchen discourses in precisely the irrelevant humorof the ancient interlude : “Mais oui, mais oui ; c’est moi qui les ai

trouVé s . L e portier dit que c’es t lui qui les a vus le premier ; maisc’est moi qui l

’ai ré veillé . Il dormait sur le ventre et

’

ne voulait pas se

lever. Et maintenant il vient dire : C’est moi qui les ai vus le premier.

Est-ce que c’est j uste ? Voyez-vous , j e m’

é tais brfilé e en allumant une

lampe pour descendre a la cave . Qu’est-ce que j ’

allais donc faire a

la cave ? Je ne peux plus me rappeler. Enfin, j e me leve a cinqheures ; il ne faisait pas encore tres clair ; j e me dis , j e vais traverser lacour, et puis, j e vais ouvrir la porte. Bien ; j e descends l

’escalier sur

la pointe des pieds et j’ouvre la porte comme si c

’é tait une porte

ordinaire. Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! Qu’

est-cc que j e vois !”


6 A lden

ously ,—in connection , here, with the more clownish type.

Beaumont and Fletcher used it effectively, beginn ing withThe Maid

’s Tragedy and Cupid

’s Revenge, with a noticeable

preference for wit over humor, and an atmosphere of satiricdisillusion which is suggestive—like so much of their workof the mixed plays of the Restoration period ; this mood beingrather more inharmonious with the tragic spirit than the

broadest humor of earlier days . But the blending of serious

and comi c in the chief characters and scenes is most s trikingin the two great tragedies of Webster ’

s . In The White Devil,

F lamineo may be said to embody in himself the spirit of thisstrange blend, which finds its most daring express ion at the

moment when he is near death .

“Whither shall I go now ?

To find Alexander the Great cobbling shoes ,Pompey tagging points , and Julius Caesar making hair buttons ! ” “

I have caught an everlasting cold . I

have lost my voice most irrecoverably.

”In The Duchess of

Malfy there is no such representative character, but even moreof the effect of medley

,—medl ey which we are sure expresses

not merely a stage practice,but the dramatist ’

s view of humanlife.

4. A final development of comic action in tragedy is rep

resented in no play strictly of the Shakespearean period :

namely,the type in which two plots of approximately equal

importance,one tragic and the other comic , are intertwined .

At the very end, apparently, of the period of Shakespeare ’s

work,

1 1 this type is exhibited in Marston ’s The Insatiate

Countess . Here a broadly comic underplot not merely interweaves itself with the serious portion of the

“ tragedy ,”but

actually supersedes the latter and controls the final scene.

In reaching this point we have attained the development of

the comic interlude into the true “ tragi-comedy .

”

These being the types of comi c by-play which are to be

looked for in the tragedy of our period, it remains to in

qui re to what extent they pervade that tragedy . We shallexclude, for the time being , the tragedies of Shakespeare, in

order to compare his practi ce more readily with that of hispredecessors and contemporaries . As ide from his plays , the

1 1 Schelling puts its date of composition as 1 610 1 61 3.

Use of Comic Material in Tragedy of Shakespeare 287'

number of extant tragedies from the time of Gorboduc to

1 61 1 or thereabouts is close to fifty . From these it will beproper to exclude, for our purposes , plays which dis tinctlyfollow the type of chronicle-his tory , such as The True Tragectyof R ichard III and The Tragedy of Thomas Woodstock, ex

cept where, as in Locrih e, the innovation of comic material

is found . In general , of course, the comic interlude is not

characteristic of chronicle-history. We may also throw out

the whole group of tragedies generally called Senecan ,in

cluding, bes ides Gorboduc, Joeasta, The Misfortunes of Ar

thur, and their like, the dramas of Daniel , Fulke Greville, andSir William Alexander

,and the translations of Garnier ; for

in these Senecan and closet dramas comic interlude or by

play was undreamed of. This done,there remain about thirty

tragedies of our fifty ; and these, as luck will .

,have it

,may be

divided into three groups of not dissimilar s ize. The first is

made up of plays which are practically without comic scenesit includes Peele ’

s David and Bethsabe and The Battle ofAlcazar ; the anonymous A Warning for F air Women

,Mars

ton ’s Sephonisba; Jonson

’s Sej anus and Catiline; Chapman

’s

Revenge of Bussy and Tragedy of Biron ; and Barnes ’s

The Devil ’s Charter .

1 2

(Most of these tragedies , it will benoticed

,date from some time after The second group

is formed of the plays in which comic material appears

in a few isolated scenes—sometimes in one only,sometimes in

three or four,—varying from momentary comic dialogue to a

success ion of interludes like those already cited from A Wom

an Killed with Kindness . The tragedies of this character areKyd

’s The Spanish Tragedy (III, v and vi ) ;

1 3 Arden ofF eversham (II, 1 1 ; IV ,

i and ii ) Tamburlaine,Pt. 2 (III, v ;

In In A Warning for F air Women there are two scenes where lowlygenre characters are introduced, with momentary comic effects if theac tors chose to avail themselves of the opportunity, —the scenesof Barnes and Beane and of John and Joan (S impson’

s S chool ofShakespeare, vol. ii, pp. 27 5 , The same question may be raisedregarding The Devil

’

s Charter, where the ruflians F rescobaldi and

Baglioni (III, 1 1 and V , i ) exhibit a grim humor which may or .may not

have been emphasized on the stage .

“9 F or convenience of reference, I note roughly the scenes enume

rated for this classification. Obviously no two readers would be likely

288 Alden

IV,i ) The Jew of Malta (IV,

II,iii , iv, and vi ) -Lust

’s DO

minion (III, v ; IV ,v ) ; Chapman

’

s Bussy d’Ambois (I, ii ) ;

Heywood ’

s A Woman -Killed with Kindness (I, 1 1 ; II, iii ; IViii ; V ,

iii ) ; Tourneur ’s The Revenger

’s Tragedy (II, i ) ;

Beaumont and Fletcher'

s Cupid’s Revenge (1 1 II

,i ; III 1

IV,i The third group consists of the plays in which com

ic elements are introduced repeatedly, or to an extent sufficient

to suggest amixed type of drama ; namely : L ocrine (I, ii ; II, iiand iii ; III, iii ; IV ,

ii ) Kyd ’s Soliman and Perseda (I, iii and

iv ; 1 1 , ii ; III, ii ; IV ,ii ; V ,

iii ) Marlowe’s F austus (Scenes

1V,Vl l

,V1 1 1

,1 x

,xi ) Marston ’

s Antan/io’s R evenge (1 , 1 1 ; II, i ;

III,1 1 ; IV ,

i ; V ,i ) ; Chettle

’

s Hofi’man (Acts I, II, III,

passim) ; Heywood’s The Rape of Lucrece (passim) ; Tour

neur’s The Atheist

’s Tragedy (I, iii ; II, i , vi ; IV 1 iii

,iv

,

v ; V ,i ) ; Beaumont and Fletcher

’s The Maid

’s Tragedy (I,

11 ; II, i ; III, i , ii ; IV ,ii ; V ,

Mars ton ’s The I'

nsatiate

Co untess (I, i ; II, i ; III, i , iii ; IV ,iv ; V ,

ii ) ; Webster ’

s

The White Devil (I, 1 1 ; II, i ; III, 1 ; V ,i,iii

,iv

,vi ) ; The

Duchess of Malfy (I 1 II 1 1 1 ; III, ii , iii ; IV ,ii ; 1 5 V ,

ii ) .

With this analysis of the practice of his contemporaries in

mi nd,let us now turn to the tragedies of Shakespeare. In

Romeo and Juliet, perhaps his earliest tragedy, there appears

at once a strikingly large amount of comic material . The

play opens with a roystering servants ’s cene, while conven

tional house-servants furnish comic interlude briefly at the

opening of I v and IV,1 1 . Further there is a servant cal led

“the clown who furnishes a typical clown interlude in 1 , ii(“I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ ,

to agree in all the detai ls of such a choice, and I cannot hOpe to haveavoided overlooking some scenes which may deserve mention quite as

much as those indicated.

“ In addition to the comic dialogue of this scene one may note

the bitter humor of Vendice, passim.

“ This is the madmen’s scene, and represents a different type of

comic effect from any that has been discussed ; d ifl’

erent, also, from

any other in the period , but analogous to the Ophelia scene in Hamlet

( IV, v ) . In this case laughter and pain are not so much contrastedas awakened simultaneously. Cf. Mr . John Corbin ’

s The Elizabethan

Hamlet.


290 Alden

It need hardly be said that there is no other tragedy of

Shakespeare ’

s like Romeo and Juliet in respect either to the

character or the arrangement of the comic details . F or some

time following he seems to have written no more tragedies ,and when he turned again to the form he treated it, on the

whole, with pervas ive seriousness . The comic interlude,how

ever, was by no means abandoned . It reappears in various

forms ; characteristically as a single interruption of the main

action ,by a clownish personage who does not appear else

where. In Hamlet, while there is an abundance of comicmatter (to certain aspects of which we must return later ) , asingle clown-scene appears in the last act, the grave-diggers

being named “ clown s ”in the text . In Othello the clown is

also explicitly named ; he appears at the opening of Act III,

parrying jests with the musicians much after the fashion of

Peter in Romeo and Juliet.

1 8 In Macbeth the clown is the

humorous Porter (1 1 , iii ) , whose jests suspend the action at

so critical a moment . 1 9 In Antony and Cleopatra he is againcalled “ clown ,

”but has now a function of some importance,

as the countryman who brings Cleopatra the“ worm of Ni

lus (V ,—one of the most engaging of thes e minor humor

ists . In Coriolanus a purely comic interlude cannot be found ,but we have the relic of it, so to say , sobered by the present

temper of the dramatist , in an old-fashioned house-servants ’

scene in IV,v .

20 From this list three tragedies have beenomitted : Jalias Caesar, King L ear, and Timon . In the las t

named a fool takes the place of the clown ,appearing in the

“ He has no part to play in the action, and Professor Bradley callshim a

“poor” clown, adding :“We hardly attend to him and quickly

forget him ; I believe most readers of Shakespeare, if asked whetherthere is a clown in Othello, would answer N o.

”(Shakespearean Trag

ed/y, p.

Ou this scene see the various comments cited in the N ew Variorwm,

pp. 1 44-1 46 , particularly the important remarks of Hales (from his

N otes and E ssays ) ; and Bradley, pp. 39 5 -397 . Bradley’s remarks serve

to explain why in an earlier passage (p. 31 1 ) he had said, in effect,

that there is no clown-interlude in Macbeth; yet as he admits that the

groundlings probably “roared with laughter”

at the porter’s remarks ,the statement can hardly be j ustified .

” F or other partly comic scenes in Coriolanus , see infra.


usual single interlude scene (II, In L ear, where the same

innovation is practiced , the importance of the fool demands

that he be reserved for s eparate discussion . In Jalias C’aesai

~

there are comedy clowns at the very opening of the. play, in

the persons of the carpenter and the cobbler ; and it is qui telikely that this cobbler

,a wi tty fellow in repartee, was

thought of as the clown of the piece. If we seek an interlude

scene, however, we must find it in IV,iii

,where the cyn ic

poet interrupts the generals . In the mere text the comedy of

this passage is s light enough , but if we recall that Shakes

peare had found the bad poet des cribed in Plutarch as one

who“ took upon him to counterfeit a philosopherwith a certain bedlam and frantic motion ,

which caused

Cas sius to fall “a-laughing, ” it may seem not impossible that

he was treated on the s tage with some of the buffoonery of the

clown ish interlude.

The s ign ificance of all this lies in the fact , which apparent

ly has never been remarked, that Shakespeare made a practice,in the principal period of his dramatic work, of avoiding therepeated comic interludes of. many of his predecessors and

contemporaries,introducing

,nevertheless , a single clown

scene as a concession to the popular tradition— and perhapsto the demands of his company that its leading comedian

should be furnished a part . 2 2 Sometimes this clown scene

21 Titus Andronicus has been" pas sed over for obvious reasons . If

included, however, it fits in precisely with the prevailing Shakespeareanpractice ; there is a single clown interlude in IV, iii (“Enter Clown, with

a basket,22 In this connection the name of Will Kemp is recalled, since he is

known to have played the part of Peter in R omeo and Ju liet, and to havebeen for considerable periods the leading clown of Shakespeare’

s com

pany. To him also has been conj ecturally assigned the first gravedigger

’s part in Hamlet (first, perhaps , by Chalmers ) ; Collier, on the

other hand, since Kemp appears to have been acting in 1 602 with an

other company, believed that Shakespeare was cas ting a slur upon him

in the lines, “Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is

set down for them,

”etc . (Memoirs of the Principal A ctors , etc ., p.

89 . And see, to the same effect, Brinsley N icholson on“Kemp and

Hamlet,” Transactions N . S . S 1 880, p. If he was the William

Kemp whose burial record Chalmers found under date of N ov. 2,

1 603, we cannot asLsume that he appeared to interrupt the serious

2 A lden

was quite apart from the action of the play, as in Romeo and

Juliet and Othello; more often Shakespeare preferred to in

terweave it effectively with the materials of tragedy, as not

ably in Hamlet and Antony and Cleopatra. Macbeth mightform an intermediate type : the porter scene could be excised

without affecting the action , yet despite Coleridge ’

s objectionfew critics would call it gratuitous .

King L ear presents a case by itself. Here Shakespeare not

only, as has been remarked, varied from the common practiceby bringing a court fool into tragedy, but actually made himone of the important characters in the play . He proves , of

course,not wholly a comic personage on his first appearance

(I, iv ) he is called “a bitter fool , it is soon evident that he

is to be emotionally concerned with the fate of the king , andhi s position in the second and third acts (II, iv ; III, ii , iv ,vi ) becomes increas ingly that of a tragic sufierer

,though we

must no doubt suppose that his sallies provided amusement

also . After Act III he di sappears . This fool has been madethe subject of no little critical interpretation ,

and it is not to

the present purpos e to attempt any more.

28 But it is perti

course of any of the tragedies subsequent to Hamlet; but if he survivedth at year, as is quite possible, he may have played the clown in Othello

and the porter in Macbeth. Looking backward again, it is almost

certain that he was in Shakespeare’s company when Julius Caesar was

produced, for he is known to have played Dogberry about th at time inMuch Ado. He may, then, have played the cobbler citizen, or the

bad poet of the tent scene —if, as has been suggested, that scene was

more clownish than the text reveals, —or both. All this is idle conj eeture ; but the fact that such a personage as Kemp was an importantfeature of the playing company, and that for him and his kind interludes in tragedies were deliberately made (as appears to have been

the case with the Peter scene in R omeo and Ju liet) , is so far from idlethat it is fundamental for the study of our subject. (F or accountsof Kemp, besides Co llier’s partly untrustworthy article, see Dyce’

s

edition of Kemp’

s N ine Days’ Wonder, Camden Society, 1 840; an un

signed article in the Jahrbach, XXII , 25 5 ; and of course the Diet.

N at. Biog . )” I cannot resist quoting Professor Bradley’

s fine comment :“One

can almost imagine that Shakespeare, going home from an evening at

the Mermaid, where he had listened to Jonson fulminating againstfools in general and perhaps criticising the clown in Twelfth N ight in


t

294 A lden

To summarize what we have found : of Shakespeare ’s

dies the earliest contains some ten or a dozen partly com

the others there are altogether some twenty totwenty-five—o f cours e no two readers woul d agree in the

count,—an average of a little less than three each . Of thesescenes one in each tragedy

,L ear excepted , partakes of the

nature of the old clown interlude ; in L ear the clown ,now be

come a fool , is developed to an importan t and partly serious character. The other comic scenes are of very variouskinds . Three tragedies , Julius Caesar, Othello, and Macbeth,

are free from outstanding comi c details except for the singleinterlude scene,

2 6 though showing secondary moments of

amusing by -play . Two tragedies have comic scenes in the

first act ; seven in the second ; th ree in the third ; four in the

fourth ; and three in the fifth ? 7 There is none in which theCoriolawus , and even in Antowy a/nd C leopatra, greatly diminishing the

full tragic efi‘

ect (again the term comi-tragedy mi ght be used ) , and

making it possible for Professor Bradley to speak of Macbeth as“the

last of the pure tragedies .

” Here also should be mentioned Troitus

and Cressida, which is perhaps quite as tragic as Timon . This play,it will be remembered, the editors of the folio seemingly knew not how

to classify ; it is like a familiar type o f modern drama in which the

end is a dissonance, with neither comic nor tragic resolution. The end

of the action is the death of Hector, but the last word (probably not

Shakespeare’s, to be sure) is a mocking laugh.

3° This statement I believe would be accepted by most readers of

Othello; yet since it was written I have seen Othello well performed, andwas struck not only by the comic “relief ” furnished by R oderigo the

gull, but also by the amusement which the audience found in the

witty sallies of Iago, notwithstanding the terrible import of that to

which they were leading.

” R omeo and Ju liet is still excluded from these figures . ProfessorBradley, while j ustly observing that comic passages occur most fre

quently in the early or middle part of the play,” emphasizes theiruse in the fourth—or early in the fifth—act as a means of preventingthe drag

” which threatens the five-act tragedy at this point. (Shake

spearean Tragedy, p. This suggests an aspect of our subject whichis not touched on in this paper, viz ., the relation of the comic underscene to dramatic technique . An interesting example is the remark,made first I cannot now say by whom, that the porter scene in Macbeth

was devised to provide time for Macbeth to wash his hands and change.

his clothing.


comic material tends to rise to the position of an underplot ,nor any ,

indeed , which can be thought to give warrant forDr. Johnson ’

s saying that in tragedy Shakespeare “is always

struggling after some occasion to be comic . ”In the foregoing summary only the graveyard scene in

Hamlet was included . Yet it is clear that a considerable portion of Hamlet, not readily placed in any of the groups thusfar noted

,is yet marked by di stinctive comic effects . So far

from being of the nature of interlude, this element is involvedin the personality of Hamlet hims elf, and we are reminded

that in this play we have the unique example of a Shakespearean tragedy whose hero is to some extent a comic part . 2 8 In

Hamlet ’

s dialogues with those whom he despises—with Po

lonias,Ro sencrantz and Guildenstern

, and Osric—is some of

the most brilliant intellectual comedy to be found in Shakes

peare. To explain or interpret the presence j

of this matterin the greatest of. the tragedies is not here to be attempted . It

must suffice to observe that it tends to make of the drama whatmi ght be called an intellectual complex , as compared withwhat was called an emotional complex in the case of King

Lear, and that the dominan t effect is now that of tragic ironyas compared with the impression of tragic pathos .

N or can we fail to note the interesting part played by in

sanity, real or feigned, in the creation of these complexes.

That men tal derangement was a recognized source of amus e

ment in the Elizabethan period has been abundantly shown ;2 9yet this is not to deny that it can ever have failed of its power

to awaken pity and terror . Whether Professor Wendell and

Mr . Corbin are right in their emphas is on the comic side of

this element in Lear and Hamlet has been questioned , and

cannot be argued here ; but certainly , except for readers whoreject altogether the poss ibility of such a dissonance of humorand pathos , the presence of. comic material in the mad scenes ,as in those which Webs ter probably derived from them}0

Compare F um ivall’s remark that “Hamlet himself does the mainwork of Lear

’s fool.” (Transactions N . S . S ., 1 880, p.

29 See Wendell’s William S hakespeare and Corbin’

s The E lizabethan

H amlet.

3° See the note on The Duchess of Malfy,supra, and S toll

’s John Web

s ter, pp. 1 42-1 44.

296 A lden

mus t be viewed as important for a full unders tanding of ourtheme. In King L ear the matter is of unique importance, becaus e of the extraordinary combination of the real madness

of the king, the partial madness of the fool , and the feignedmadness of Edgar. Readers so di sposed may well inquirewhich of these s cenes are chiefly instrumental in effectingwhat has been cal led tragic irony , and which tragic pathos .

Certainly in the feigned madness of Hamlet the former is outs tanding, and in the real madness of L ear the latter. The

audience is likely to laugh in both cases ;31 but the differencemight be expressed in some such fas hion as by saying that tolaugh at Hamlet it is necessary to unders tand , to laugh at

L ear it is necessary not to unders tand .

This last phase of our subject sugges ts a concluding inqui ry

,which is here to be raised rather than answered . How

true is the statement commonly made, that the pres ence of comic detail in tragedy is for the purpose of relief ? Relief in the

literal sense of contras t—about that there can be little doubt .”

n A modern audience by no means so much, certainly, as an Eliza

bethan, but at times , as any observer may discover. Professor GeorgeP . Baker seems to question this , at any rate so far as Hamlet is con

cerned, in his recent introduction to that play in the Tudor Shakespeare,saying that if “

Shakespeare meant the pretended madness to be comic,then in scenes profoundly moving and rich in the finest

psychology he worked for a laughter that must largely break the veryemotional spell he seems to be seeking to create . (pp. xv, xvi. ) But

this is to beg the central question—whether there is not an“emotional

spell” to which serious and comic elements both contribute. Somewhatdi fferent is Professor Bradley’

s suggestion, in this case with regard to

the porter scene in Macbeth, that Shakespeare intended the groundlingsto roar with laughter, and at the same time “

despised [them] if theylaughed .

”This might seem a too supralapsarian Calvinism, to rep

resent the poet as creating sinners in order to damn them ; yet whenwe consider the problem of the relation of Shakespeare’

s maj estic powersof idealization to his business as a purveyor of drama to the common

alty, it no doubt contains an aspect of the truth.” Compare Dryden’

s defense of the practice, in the person of N e

ander : “Why should he imagine the sou1 , of man more heavy than his

senses ? Does not the eye pas s from an unpleasant obj ect to a

pleasant in a much shorter time than is required to this ? and does not

the unpleasantness of the first commend the beauty of the latter? The

old rule of logic might have convinced him, that contraries , whenplacednear, set off each oth er.” (E ssays , cd. Ker, i,


298 Alden

of Gothic invention , maintained that it is no defense to

claim that it imitates the variety of nature ; because, said he,while it may imitate the nature of phenomena

, it disregards

the nature of emotions , which it is the function of art to helpus to un ify .

36 The answer would seem to be that—at any

rate in the highes t specimens of the“Gothic

’ f method—the

object is not so much to depict the confusion of exterior na

ture as the confus ion of the soul at moments when tragic andcomic seem to form one indivisible experience.

RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN .

University of Illi fnois .

“ Drama turgie, LXX . Alles, was wir in der N atur von einem Ge

genstande oder einer Verbindung verschiedener Gegenstande, es sei

der Zeit oder der R aume nach, in uns ern Gedanken absondern oderabsondern zu konnen wunschen, sondert sie [die Kunst] wirklich ah,

und gewahrt uns diesen Gegenstand oder diese Verbindung ver

sch iedener Gegenstande so lauter und biindig, als es nur immer dieEmpfindung, die s ie erregen sollen, verstattet. Es mus s

uns notwendig ekeln, in der Kunst das wiederzufinden, was wir aus

der N atur wegwiinschten.

Notes on Glapthorne’s Wit in A Cons table

”299

SOME NOTES ON HENRY GLAPTHORNE’S WIT IN A

CONSTABLE .

I. TEX TUAL

Recently I purchas ed a copy of the first edition of Henry

Glapthorne’s comedy, Wit in a Constable, in which numerous

corrections and notes had been entered in a contemporary

hand . The accuracy of these corrections and notes , and the

general care shown in entering them, lead me to believe thatthey were made by some one who was familiar with the lines ,and also poss ibly with the stage representation , of the play .

The title-page states that the comedy was written in 1 639 ,

the first edition appeared in 1 640; the manuscript entries ,therefore, might have been made while the play was still be

ing performed, or at least while its performance was still

fresh in memory. It is not likely that the corrections weremade by the author, but it is certain that they were made by

some one who was especially interested in the play .

Since these corrections may prove of value to the student of

Glapthorne, I give them below in full ; F or the convenienceof those who do not have access to the first edition

,I have

prefix ed page and line reference to Pearson ’

s reprint of the

play,1 874.

P . 1 65,l. 1 . After The Prologue is added : Spoken

by the Constable”; p . 1 67 , I. 1 7 After “

N el”is inserted

Lucy”; p . 1 7O

,l. 8 . Metaphosickes

”H] is altered to

“Meta

physickes”; p . 1 72, 1. 5 .

“l-ve

”is altered to “ live”

; p . 1 73;l. 1 9 . After “ purpose is inserted a period p . 1 75 , l . 5 . Afterfashions ”

is inserted a period ; p . 1 75,l . 1 6 . After of. it

”

the comma is changed into a period ; p . 1 77,l. 26 . The catch

word “Thoro

”prefix ed to thi s line is cancelled ; p . 1 77

,l. 29 .

“

you none here”is altered to “ you ’ve none here p . 1 84.

The s tage direction “Enter Holdfast

,Brave

,Tristram is

altered to Enter Holdfas t Bravely drest Tris tram ”; p .

1 8 5,11. 30-31 .

“he had him a schollar

”is altered to “

he had

bred him a schollar”; p . 1 87 . In the stage direction after

“Enter Thoroug .

”is inserted : “ drest like Holdfas t as a

scholar ”, p . 1 88 . In the stage direction Gray”

is altered to“Grace p . 189

,11. 31 -2 . A hyphen is inserted after new

”

and before Found p . 1 90,1. 20. Adds the stage direction :

“Ent : Val Tim : p . 1 90

,1. 26 . Adds the stage direction

300 Adams , Jr .

Ex : Covet Thor p . 1 91 l. 20. After “neighbor a comma

is inserted ; p . 1 91,l. 34. An beire long” is altered to “

An

heire loom . [The correction has been silently made in the

Pearson edition ] ; p . 1 92,l . 8 . A double hyphen is inserted

between “thred and

“ bare p . 192,l. 1 8 .

“

get me’hem

”

is altered to “

get me’hen ce p . 1 93

,l . 30. Adds the s tage

direction :“Ex : Val : Tim z

”; p . 1 98

, 11. 31 -2 . now wert forthe statute, That B igamy”

is altered to : now wert not forthe statute Thats ’gainst Bigamy .

”[In the Pearson edition ,

the text is silently changed to :“now wert not for the statute

’Gainst p . 1 99, l . 9 .

“N ay ,

come forward Landlord Spoild else is altered to : N ay ,

come forward Landlord , all

’

s spoild else p . 202,1. 28 .

“Coy as a Voteresse be

low their suiters ”is altered to “

Coy as a Voteresse beforetheir suiters ”

; p . 205,l. 1 1 . I his behalte”

is altered to “On

his behalte”; p . 205

,l . 23. Adds the stage direction Ex

eunt”; p . 205

,l . 28 . that she should heare”

is altered to“but that she should heare”

; p . 207,l. 1 6. After “

Company ”

is inserted : “ent : Grace Val . p . 207 1. 21 .

“ that house”is

altered to the house”; p . 209 , l. 8 . and daughter and is

altered to and daughter are”; p . 209 , l . 1 2 . I was your

Neice is altered to she was your N eice”; p . 21 1

,l . 6 .

“F reewit

”is altered to Thorowgood, and from this point

to the end of the play the alteration is painstakingly madeevery time the name “

F reewit”occurs ; p . 21 2

,l . 1 6 . Poore

wretched ”is altered to “

Poore wretch ”; p . 213, 1. 23. azure

notes ”is altered to “

azure noses”

p . 21 5,l . 1 .

“As tis the

city fashion to a woman .

”After to a word is inserted

which seems to be “ haue.

”[The line, however, needs only a

comma after “ fashion ”to make good sense and metre ] ;

p . 21 6,l. 1 8 . J ckdawes .

”The missing “

a”is ins erted ;

p . 21 7 1. 1 8 . here ’s your Mr . is altered to here ’

s yourMan ; p . 21 7 , l . 20.

“Enter Grimes

,Busie”

is altered to“ Enter Busie Tristram ,

”and from this point on “

Grimes "

is carefully altered to “Tristram”

; p . 229,l . 1 . To the stage

direction Int.

”is added : “

a sedan passes ouer” ; pp .

236,240. The name

“F reewit

”in the stage di rections is

cancelled .

A comparison of the first edition of the play wi th Pear

son’s reprint

,shows that the text of the latter is thoroughly

untrustworthy. The editor carelessly omits words ; and , when

ever he thinks the text faulty, suppresses or introduces wordswithout the slightes t notice to the reader. In punctuation ,

capitalization ,and line division ,

too, the reprint is chaotic .


302 Adams, Jr .

life of a Cambridge s cholar ; and throughout the play the university is frequently referred to. The following passage is

especially significant :“But shall we have such wenches

As are at Cambridge, hansom as peg Larkin ?” 2 Perhaps this

same Cambridge lass is referred to in a poem entitled Oh the

Banishment of Cambridge Los ses, printed in Huth’s Inedfited

Poetical Mis cellamies . The first lass there referred to is

named Peg :

Thy damask check , my Peg , which nature made

Of purest tinctures , such as never fade.

II. In the original edition ,after Act III, Throughgood is

called F reewit,and Tristram is called Grimes . From this

fact Fleay con cluded that Wit in a Constable was an older

play revised by Glapthorne, and that the revision extended

no further than through Act III. But the play gives no eV i

dence of being an old play reworked by a new hand ; indeed ,it gives every evidence of having been throughout the productof Glapthorne. Yet the alterations in the names of the chief

characters certainly point to a revis ion . Perhaps the playhad been written by Glapthorne at Cambridge, and was later ,in London

,prepared for the public actors . It undoubtedly

shows many traces of Cambridge, and throughout smells

of the univers ity.

III. But Fleay failed to observe all the peculiarities inthe names given to the characters of the play. F or example,Thoroughgood appears as the suitor in Glapthorne

’

s The

Lady Mother, and F reewit appears as the suitor in The Hol

la/nder ; in Wit in a Constable the suitor is called Throughgoodin the first three acts , and is called F reewit in the last two

acts . An examination of thes e plays reveals other striking

parallelisms in characters . The more important of these Isummarize below .

1 . Thoroughgood in Wit in a Constable is suitor to Clare

in Acts IV and V,he is called F reewit. Thoroughgood in The

Lady Mother is suitor to Lady Marlowe. F reewit in The

Hollander is suitor to Lady Knowworth .

2. Tris tram in Wit in a Constable is servant to Jeremy“Page 1 73, 11. 31 -2 .

Notes on Glapthorne’s

“Wit in A Constable”

303

Holdfas t ; in Acts IV and V ,he is called Grimes . Grimes in

The Lady Mother is servant to Bonville.

3. Clara in Wit in a Constable is a young lady beloved by

Thoroughgood . Clariana in The Lady Mother is a young lady

beloved by Thurston .

4. Sir Gefferie Holdfas t in Wit in a Constable is a rich ,mi serly knight who has a very foolish son . Sir Gefferie

[Holdfast°? cf. p. 1 13 ;

“And tis as hard to wrest a penny

from him as from a bawd”] in The Lady Mother is a rich

and miserly kni ght who has a very foolish nephew.

5 . Maudlin is the name of a servant girl in both The LadyMother and Wit in a Constable.

6 . Timothy appears in Wit in a Constable as a foolishknight

,and in The Lady Mother as a clever servant .

These repetitions of names are, to be sure, striking ; yeteven more striking are the repetitions of the characters themselves ; without much change they are made to act in different

plots . The explanation of this I must leave to someone who

is more interested in Glapthorne than I.

IV. It has not been observed that in the play Glapthorne

satirizes Thomas Heywood . On page 1 71 he makes Tristramsay to the foolish Holdfast

You may arrive to be the City Poet ,And send the little moysture of your braineTo grace a Lord Ma1ors festivall with showes ,Alluding to his trade

,or to the company

Of which he ’s free.

This is an obvious reference to Heywood and to his Lord

Mayor ’

s show of 1 639,L omh

'

ml S tatus Peeatus, which was performed at

“the Charge and Expense of the

Right Worshipfull Society of Drapers,

”on the occasion of

the Initiation of the R ight Honourable Henry Garway intothe Maj oralty of the Famous and farre Renowned City of

London .

”Garway was free of the Company of Drapers , and

to this fact Heywood frequently alludes . He celebrates

the greatness of the Company of Drapers , and gives a listof the lord mayors who have been members of that organization . Moreover, he puts into the separate

“shows ” themselves

304 Adams, Jr .

distinct allusions to the mayor ’

s trade ; note, for example,

the following '

The Fleece of Aries Trumpets to eternity

The Draper ’

s Honour, due to that Fraternity .

Throughout the play Glapthorne satirizes the Drapers , andin cidentally Heywood ’

s laudation of them. F or example,on page 210:

Though I ’me a Citizen ,and by my charter

Am not allowed much wit , as being free0th L innen-drapers , and a man in office.

It is interesting in this connection to observe that PeterHansted also refers satirically to Heywood ’

s work as CityPoet 3

So may rare Pag eants grace the Lord Mayor’s show

And Heywood sing your acts in lofty verse.

JOSEPH QU INCY ADAMS, JR .


1‘A S atire agains t S eparatiets , 1 648. Heywood seems to have been

made City Poet about 1 630. He is said to have written “all the known

pageants for L ord Mayor’s Day, between 1 630 and 1 640, when theyceased for some years to be exhibited .

”


06 F letcher

Hubberds Tale, or he may have merely desired to await afavorable verdict on his new venture before acknowledging it,or he may even—aspiring courtier as he was —be affecting thedisdain of aristocratic authors for making their accomplishments property of the common herd .

There is another matter making, I think , for thearrangement of the volume by Spenser himself. The three series of“ Visions “ Visions of the Worlds Vanitie,

” “The Visions

of Bellay, The Visions of Petrarch ”— follow without separate title-page “Muiopotmos .

”This has a title-page, and is

inscribed to Elizabeth , Lady Carey. In Sonnet I of the

“ Visions of theWorlds Vanitie, Spenser says of his VisionsSuch as they were (faire Ladie) take in worth ,That when time serves , may bring things better forth .

And in the last sonnet of the Petrarchan series—and of the

volume—Spenser adds to the original envoy, translated as a

quatrain in 1 5 69,this apos trophe

And ye, faire Ladie, in whose bounteous brestAll heavenly grace and vertue shrined is ,When ye these rythmes doo read , and y ew the rest ,Loath this base world , and thinke of heavens blisAn d though ye be the fairest of Gods creatures ,Yet thinke, that death shall spoyle your goodly features .

Apar t from their position as following “MuiOpotmos in the

volume, these words conform very well to the tone and

promise of the dedication to Lady Carey . F or as the las t

words in the volume, they apply equally to the “ Visions ”and

to the whole volume, so by “ fortunate”ambiguity fulfilling

his declaration of being “absolutely vowed to [her ] services , ”

and in so far justifying Nash ’s assertion two years later in

“Chris t ’

s Tears over Jerusalem ” that “Maister Spenser inall his writings he prizeth

3 Moreover, the emphasisaCf. P . W. L ong : Spenser and Lady Carey. Modern L anguage

Rem, April 1 908 . In the epistle dedicating Mother Hubberds Tale to

L ady Compton, Spenser says that he would present to her“these

my idle labours ; which having long’

sithens composed in the raw con

ceipt of my youth, I lately amongst other papers lighted upon, and

was by others , which liked the same, mooved to set them foorth.

There follows without separate title-page the R uines of R ome; then

“Spencer

’s Earliest Translations

’307

upon her bounty,superlative beauty and grace fits Spenser ’

s

tributes elsewhere to Lady Carey .

4 If Mr . Long is at all

right in interpreting the exceedingly ardent dedication of“Muiopotmos , together with the uniquely prominent dedica~

tory-sonnet in the first ins talment of “The Pairie Queene, ” as

effectively a declaration of platonic service—another aristo

cratic pose of the poet— there would be a special fitness in

Spenser ’s setting a climax to his praise in his revamped

Visions of Petrarch ” they would imply Lady Carey to behis

“Laura. Furthermore, a motive would thus be given

for his working over of the early translations , and a reason

for the omission of the four Apocalyptic “sonets .

”It would

be manifestly indecorous in praise of milady to enlis t theScarlet Woman on her ugly Beast .

In theme and genre, a goodly number of the Complaints

actually grew out of the early translations . The“ Vis ions of

the Worlds Vanitie are manifestly suggested by the “Vis

ions ” from the“Theatre ,” “

The Ruines of T ime” by The

Ruines of Rome. The motif of “ Virgils Gnat ” is the inverseof that of the “ Vis ions of theWorlds Vanitie. The fortunes

of the great are in the former made, in the latter marred , by

the small . And again,

“Muiopotmos”is in idea and form

comes the titIe-page of Muiopotmos , followed by that poem and the

Vie imze. One would naturally expect the R uines of R ome to be groupedwith the V is ions of B ellay, the two together making one poem. It

would look as if the poet were di stributing these minor pieces for goodmeasure, as it were , to his main gift. Hence the phrase “

this smal

poeme”in the epistle dedicatory of Muiopotmos need not, as Mr.

Buck thinks (Pub. Mod. L ang . A ssoc . xxiii, p. preclude the L ady”of the Visions being the dedicatee of Muiopo tmos . S imi larly, Ponsonbydedicates to S ir R obart N eedham the volume of 1 5 95 , entitled Amoretti

and Epithalamion , but containing as well certain epigrams ; yet in his

epistle he mentions these sweete conceited sonnets”

only.

F urthermore the declaration to L ady Compton would seem to admitresponsibility for the publication of the volume of Complaints . The

letter could hardly apply to any original uttering”of the poem, for its

author speaks of having “long sithens composed [ it] in the raw con

ceipt of my youth,” and but“lately” having “

lighted upon it.

‘ Cf. L ong, op. ci t. Mr. Long (p. 2 5 9 , note 1 ) assumes withoutargument that the

“faire Ladie”of the

“Visions is L ady Carey.

308 F letcher

obviously related to Virgils Gnat . Such developments of

themselves give a certain importance to those sub-freshman

exercises .

As has been before pointed outf’ phrases and images thus

early s truck oif lingered in Spenser ’

s memory to be us ed anew

later. I might cite two additional instances . Ll. 265 -282 of The

Teares of the Muses ” clearly echo Sonnet X of the“ Visions

of Bellay, as do s tanzas four and five of the fourth cantoof the first book of the

“ Faerie Queene” Sonet II of the

same. Again , in“ Faerie Queene, ” I

,v,49

,there is allus ion

to

The antique ruins of the Romanes fall .

J. B . FLETCHER .

Columbia University .

l‘Ct’. F riedland, op. cit , p. 4 5 9, note 20.


310 Green

such characteristic changes as the High German Sound-shiftand Notker

’

s law of Initial Consonan ts . Both Chapter III.

and the following one, which gives a corresponding dis cus s ionof vowel developments

,are summed up in conven ient tabular

reviews . Three other divisions are devoted one each to the

Verbal system,the N ominal and Pronominal system

,and to

Numerals and Adverbs . The book concludes with a serviceable table of OHG . verbs and an index verborum.

The benefits that the s tudent might derive from this ar

rangement are, however, to a slight extent minimized by di sadvantages of one sort or another. A few considerations thatoccurred to the present reviewer in the course of reading maybe set down at this point .(a) There are to be found in the book certain errors of

misstatement that " mi litate to just such a degree against itsaccuracy. Thus

,on p . 9 the Germanic languages are misrep

resented as having possessed a fix ed accent . This,of course

,is

incorrect : the acquisition of a fix ed accent of the dynamiccharacter is just one of the few peculiarities that differentiateGermanic from her s ister dialects . A short account here of

Indo-European stress would not have been amiss . Again,on

p . 39 the formulation of Verner ’

s law as“ when initial unless

in unaccented syllable, prefix or second part of a noun compound or immediately preceded by the accent in IG. the voiceless spirants are retained, but in all other cases these voiceless spirants become voiced” will be admitted to be scientifi

cally accurate, but certainly obscure and cumbersome as well .

(b ) Evidences of inconclusiveness force themselves uponthe reader ’

s attention that impair the serviceableness of the

portions afiected. On p . 1 1 and 231 the bibliographical matter is devoid of the customary information as to edition

,date

and place. This circumstance renders it worthless for working purposes , especially as it is designed for the gu idance of

beginners . The survey,too, of the OHG. literary remains

on p . 1 1 is not sufficiently illuminating . One does not wishfor an extended catalogue raisonne

’

of the various MSS . suchas is given

,.

for instance, in Bii lbring’

s AltenglischesElementarbuch , but it is reasonable to expect a few wordsof extran eous comment as well as an acceptable dating ap

pended to each . On p . 28 Armitage states that the order ofthe stages of the First Sound-shi ft was as there adopted. No

explanation for this is given ; and yet the beginner might wellwish to know upon what reasons this dictum is based . Helpfulreferences are sometimes omitted , as when on p . 1 77 the dis

cussion of the confus ion of case-forms neglects to cite Brugmann

’

s Grundriss II. or allude to the convenient little ("

Iber

R eviews and Notes 31 1

s ichtstabellen of Wood . The classification of swem'

en

s (w)uorum, gi-swomn ] among the graded verbs of

the fourth clas s on p . 223 and also on p . 1 61 among those of

the sixth is ill-advised . F or the rest,the reviewer fails to

find a satisfactory treatment of Umlaut-phenomena.

Beyond such limits the contents of the book is not amenableto criticism . The author frankly avoids putting forth any

theories of his own,but aims solely at an attractive presenta

tion of the material culled from other sources . Indo-European students will therefore find no innovation in Armitage ’

s

work,save a hopeful tendency away from the current hybrid

terminology toward a consistent English nomenclature. Vo

calic and Consonant declension is surely more accurate thanthe mean ingless Strong and Weak ; s imilarly Graded and

Non-graded—the term Vowel-gradation is familiar—are moredescriptive of the two clas s es of verbs .

1 However,as far

as the main intention of the book is concerned , V iz. to locateand localize for the English-speaking student OR G. in all its

Indo European bearings,it seems to be defeated in part by the

fact that the author attempts to be exhaustive within a com

paratively small compas s . Armi tage ’s In troduction is clearly

not elementary in the sense of Sweet ’s Primer or even some

of Wright ’

s Historical Grammars ; its superabundance of in

formation ,whilst gratifying in the thorogoing handling of

such parts as Grimm ’

s law and the Second-shift, must be disconcerting to the beginner before whom it is placed as a prac

tical handbook .

None of the foregoing remarks , however, should be interpreted as detracting from the general value of the work . It

may not, because of some decisive defects , be fitting as a be

ginner ’s book

,but taken intrins ically and in its totality, it

makes an impression that is quite favorable—especially s inceit represents , in the English tongue, the first extensive com

parative treatment of Old High German—and bespeaks itsus efulness as a book of reference in any philological library .

Undoubtedly there was room for a work of this kind . The

real des ideratum , however, in the Old High German field is ,at present

,not the mul tiplication of grammatical manuals .

Good work is necessary in at least two other directions : theone is more pedagogical , the other purely philological . By the

pedagogical I mean the complete abs en ce of paleographicalapparatus to bring the s tudent of OHG . in closer

,first hand

1 It is questionable, at the same time, whether L engthening of Con

sonants”to render Oon sonantendehung is more expressive to English

speaking students than the term “Gemination” found in Wright and

elsewhere.

31 2 Green

contact with the linguistic monuments of the period, to visu

alise before him in a form more Vivid than the often unsympathetic text of the printed book ever can , the ensemble of the

literature under his cons ideration . Some attempt should bemade thus to provide for a less expensive collection of specimens and reproductions than is

,for instance, the excellent

Facsimile-Mappe of Frau Magda Enneccerus (Die altesten

deuts chen Sprachdenkmaler , Frankfurt , perhaps in a

student-edition of more access ibility. A face-to-face arrangement of alternate text and facsimile in a book like Braune ’

s

or Mansion ’

s L esebuch— the latter has wisely prefaced twosample pages of the Hildebrandslied— has also for some timeseemed des irable to the writer of these lines . That the philological interpretation of ancient texts should really go handin hand with such illustrative work

,requires no brief at this

place. It only needs to be emphasized that , for purposes of

serious philology, reproductive material of this kind would bethe highest poss ible stimulant to our University men to pursuetheir studies more intensively , not to speak of the probable ex

cursions prompted by the collateral use of the MS . texts intothe realms of MS . preparation and its various cultural aspects .

The other urgent need is , of course, an all-embracing syn

tax of Old High German . The worker in this field, partienlarly the s tudent

,when it comes to moot points of syntax , is

at the mercy of his imagination . The existing sources of in

formation are severally unsatisfactory. Wilmanns ’

Grammatik is not specifically OR G.

,nor Erdmann-Mensing

’s Grund

ziige der deutschen Syntax . Erdmann ’

s great work on Ot

frid is , again , restricted to that writer alone. The fourthvolume of Grimm,

rich in inspiration , is yet invalidated inmuch of its abundant material by the evidence of investigations since the date of its publication . Placed side by s idewith Streitberg ’

s 95 pages of Gothic syntax,Mansion ’

s 9

pages of OHG . matter in the same series are insignificant and

superficial . In this respect Old High German is quite as de

ficient as is Anglo-Saxon . There exist quite a few helpful treatises of the type of Delbruck

’s Synkretismus and multitudes of

dissertations devoted to the marked peculiarities of the various monuments ,

2 but all this is a closed field to the beginnerand in a great many instances beyond the reach even of the

more advanced student . The bri dging over of the remaining2 It is needless to add that there is a sufficiently large room for important corrections and new viewpoints . The reviewer’s recent mono

graph on“The Dative of Agency ; a Chapter o f Indo-European Case

syntax” might be referred to as one example of what may yet be done

in a broad way for the amplification of our knowledge as to the case

functions of the Germanic dialects.


314 Wiehr

haltnisse gegenuberstand,den Dichter sturzte. Vergeblich

ringt er um einen Ausgleich ; erst die vollstandig gefestigte11nd abgekl

'

arte L ebensanschauung des reifen Mannes bringtihm die Erltisung . R ichtig und wichtig ist Lahnsteins Ausspruch , dass Hebbels Weltanschauung nicht etwa schon zu

Beginn seiner Schaffens zeit wie aus einem Guss fertig dastand . In dem R ingen um das Problem der Willens freiheitwar er zwar schon sehr friih zu der Ueberzeugung von der

dualistis chen Form alles Seines gekommen ,aber es gelang

ihm nicht sobald,s ich mit dieser Erkenntnis

,wenn wir seine

Anschauung als solche bezeichnen diirfen, personlich abzu

finden . Erst durch das Erwachen des Gewissens und die al l

m'

ahliche sittliche Entwicklung Hebbels,findet Lahnstein , ist

er s chliess lich zu einem gewissen seelischen Gleichgewicht gekommen . Interessan t ist, dass dieser Sieg mit dem entschei

denden Ums chwung in Hebbels ausseren Ums t'anden zeitlichzusammenf

'

allt . Hebbel gab s ich schliesslich zufrieden mitder Ueberzeugung , dass s ich die Kultur der Menschheit mitsittlicher Notwendigkeit in stetig aufsteigender L inie ent

Wickeln muss , dass deshalb die“Idee”

nie un tergehen kann ,

der E inzelne s ich aber freiwillig den Anforderun gen dieserEntwicklung unterordnen , j a sogar Opfern mus s . Doch istnicht zu iibersehen ,

dass wir hier nicht mi t einer Tatsacheder Erkenn tnis

,sondern mit einer Ueberzeugung zu tun

haben . Der wahre Dichter ist allerdings nach Hebbel der

gottbegnadigte Seher , dem s ich der Sinn des L ebens unfehl

bar erschliess t. Lahns tein betont sehr stark den Wert von

Hebbels historischer Anschauungsweise. Bei der Beurteilungdieses Punktes ist aber in Betracht zu ziehen ,

das s die Ueberzeugung von der s ittlichen Notwendigkeit alles Geschehensder ges chichtlichen Erkenntn is vorausging . Im Grunde genommen ist diese letztere also n ichts als eine Art L eichenbefund

,der s chon bevor der Beschauung feststand , da diese dar

auf zielte, die s ittliche N otwendigkeit der historischen Ent

wi cklun g zu erweisen . Hebbels Weltanschauun g ist n ichtauf Vernunfts chliissen erbaut ; s ie beruht vielmehr vorwie

gend auf Ueberzeugungen ,die mystischen Ursprungs s ind .

Ethische Erwagungen brachten mit der Zeit Klarheit und

Harmonie in das Ganze, so dass man es sehr wohl als einepraktis ch anwendbare Lebensanschauung bezeichnen darf.Ein wichtiger und permanenter Bestandteil der Ans chauungHebbels ist der Glaube an die Berechtigung des Individuumsmit all seiner Eigenart. Der Einzelne kann sogar sein eignesGlii ck 11nd gleichzeitig den Nutzen der Gesamtheit nur dadurch fiirdern ,

indem er diejenige Kraft voll und ganz. ent

R eviews and Nates 31 5

wickelt , die in ihm die bedeutends te ist. Doch der Menschheit , der in ihr waltenden

“Idee” gegenuber, ist er rechtlos

und dieser Widerspruch findet eine L6sung nur durch denTod.

“Von einem einseitig mys tischen N aturalismus ist

Hebbel ausgegangen von der Zeit an,da er die B ibel und

Schiller hinter s ich gelassen hatte ; der ethische Ideali smus istsein letztes Wort, in ihm haben Ethik 1ind Mystik dauernd ihrGleichgewicht gefunden Durch sein trotzigesR ingen i lm Gott hat aber der Dichter denWeg zu einer festenE thik nicht gefunden ,

den Mittler hat er stolz verschm'

aht

und der Vater ist ihm stumm geblieben .

”

Wirklich N eues hat Bruns ebensowenig zutage gefordert alsLahnstein . Doch seine Zusammenstellung ist insofern von

praktischem Wert , als sie sowohl die Gegensatze als auch dasAehnliche in Hebbels und Ludwigs Ansichten iiber das Dramaklar vor Augen stellt. Ludwig war Kleinst

'

adter , einsam,

bestrebt sich zu bilden ; Hebbel liebte das Getriebe der Grossstadt, er war eine Herrennatur lind suchte auf andre ein

zuwirken ,bestrebt, sie unter seinen Willen zu zwingen

,denn

er fiihlte sich als Meister. Ludwig geht der historische Sinnah, der bei Hebbel s tark entwickelt ist. Ersterer geht von

dem Stofl’

e, letzterer von der Idee aus . Doch vor allem s tehen

die beiden Dichter in Bezug auf ihre Weltanschauung inschroifem Gegensatz zu einander . Bruns beruft sich zwar aufHebbels eignen Ausspruch

,dass dessen Weltanschauung schon

in seiner Jugend vollstandig war . Hebbel tauschte s ich aberhier wohl selbst . Lahnstein sucht darzutun ,

wie oben gesagt ,dass sich Hebbels Weltanschauung sehr allmahlich entwickelthat

, und m. E . hat er vollkommen recht . Doch bleibt l1n

bestritten , das s Hebbels Weltans chauung in ihrer jeweiligenGes talt stets den Mittelpunkt seines kiinstlerischen Schafi

’

ens

bildete. Hebbels Ansi chten s ind zur Geniige bekannt. Lud

wigs Weltanschauung “ist in ihren wesentlichen Grundziigen

die iiberliefert j iidisch-christliche : ein gross er gerechter Gott,der Mens ch schwach , er siindigt, Gott straft .

” Selbstredendist der Schuldbegriff der beiden Dichter ein ganz vers chiedener . F iir Hebbel ist der Schuld immer nur relativ und liegtim Willen des Individuums an s ich ; fiir Ludwig liegt dieSchuld in der R ichtung des Willens und ist gleichbedeutendmit S iinde. Er findet

, die Idee der Tragtidie ist“der not

wendige Zusammenhang von Schuld und Strafe.

”Oft tadelt

er die ungerechte Verteilung von Schuld und Strafe in demeinen oder anderen Drama. Dementsprechend findet Hebbelin der Moira der Alten einen ihm wesenverwandten Zug ,wahrend Ludwig die Weltanschauung der an tiken Tragiidie

31 6 Wiehr

entschieden ablehnt, j a sogar als unmoralis ch und irreligiiis

bezeichnet. Wie zu erwarten stellen Hebbel und Ludwigbeide Sophokles am hochsten un ter den Alten . Hebbel findet

in der griechischen Tragiidie Einheit zwischen Form und In

halt und er stellt in dieser Hinsicht die Griechen h iiher als

Shakespeare, den er historisch zu vers tehen sucht. AndersLudwig : fiir ihn ist Shakespeare der grosste Dramatiker allerZeiten und Lander, und von seinen Werken abstrahiert er ,

wie bekann t, die Gesetze des Dramas iiberhaupt ; die griechische Tragodie lasst er nur gelten als ein Produkt ihrer Zeit,durch dieWeltanschauung der Alten bedingt. Hebbel ist derMeinung,

“ dass aus dem Stil der Griechen und dem StilShakespeares durchaus ein Mittleres gewonnen werden muss” ,

stimmt aber mit Ludwig uberein,dass Shakespeare nicht die

Natur,

sondern h iihere Wirklichkeit darstellt. Auch ist

Goethe fiir beide der griisste un ter den Dichtern der N euzeit ,doch in der Bewertung seines Schafiens weichen sie wiederweit von einander ah . Ludwig tadelt das V ersohnliche seinesWesens was ihn veranlass te, der echten herben Tragik sovielwie moglich aus dem Wege zu gehen , und das s er seineHelden zu entschuldigen sucht. Goethe und Schiller sindLudwig beide zu pass iv in ihrem Verhalten gegen ihr eignesZeitalter .

“ Shakespeare ist der Spiegel seines Jahrhunderts ,Schiller und Goethe s ind ihres Jahrhunderts Spiegelbilder.

”

Unter den Werken Schillers sch'

atzt Ludwig Die Rauberund

“ Kabale und L iebe”am hochs ten ein . In Hebbels Augen

stieg Schiller nach voriibergehender Abkehr fortw'

eihrend,

eine Tatsache, die noch nicht geniigend Beachtung gefundenhat, auch verehrte er in ihm den ethischen L ehrer , wahrendLudwig behauptet , Schiller untergrabe gesund praktischeL ebensweisheit und Ethik . Sehr zutrefi

‘f'

end ist, was Ludwigiiber die Beziehungen zwischen Drama und Biihne, zwis chenDichter und Schauspieler, und den Anteil des Zuschauers an

der vollkommenen Verwirklichung der kiins tlerischen Abs ichtzu sagen hat. Von dem Drama im eigentlichen Sinne geltenLudwigs Ausfii hrungen ganz ents chieden

,wenn auch dem

L esedrama darum seine Berechtigung nicht abzusprechen ist.

Bruns hat m. E . Ludwi gs diesbezugliche Aussprii che nicht

genugend gewurdigt. Hebbel 11nd Ludwig stimmen im Princip iiberein , dass das Gemeine, das Elend des Alltags , keinpas sender Stoif fur das Drama ist. Der Gegensatz in ihrenbeiderseitigen Weltanschauung machte ein personliches Ver

haltnis zwischen Hebbel und Ludwig unmoglich . Hebbel betrachtete obendrein Ludwig als seinen Schiiler und N eben

buhler lind konnte sein Urteil uber ihn nie ganz von einer


318 Wiehr

und seineWerke n icht kennt , las se ich dahingestellt . Stellenweise versagt die Methode iiberhaupt, besonders in dem Ah

schnitt “ Verkehr mit Beginn der Wiener Periode (41 ii ) .

Einzelne Aus fiihrungen L ewins s ind s tark anfechtbar, so

z. B . ist es nicht erwiesen oder auch nur wahrscheinlich,dass

Hebbel Friese war ; die Dithmarschen s ind jedenfalls vor

wiegend s'

achs ischen Stammes . Auch durfte Hebbels Um

gangssprache, besondre Anl'

asse ausgenommen,bis zu seiner

Uebers iedlung nach Hamburg wohl ni ederdeuts ch gewesensein Unter N achruhm erwahnt der Verfas ser, das sin Wien eine Strasse nach Hebbel benannt worden ist. Da

Lewin “in Berlin geboren und ans

‘cis sig

”ist

,iiberras cht es

um so mehr,dass ihm die Hebbelstrasse im benachbarten

Charlottenburg en tgangen ist. Es ist gern miiglich ,das s

auch noch anderw'

arts Oertlichkeiten nach den Dichter benannt worden sind . Doch das s ind Kleinigkeiten . Im grossenganzen ist diese Schrift ein recht nii tzlicher Beitrag zur

Hebbel L iteratur. S ie ermoglicht einen klaren Ueberblick

i1nd selbs t'

andige Beurteilung , da der Verfasser ganz hinterden Stoff zurii cktritt.

JOSEF WIEHR .

Smith College.

ALTISLA'

NDISCIIES ELEMENTARBUCH von AndreasHeusler . Zugleich zweite Auflage des Altislandischen

Elementarbuches von Bernhard Kahle. Heidelberg 1913,Carl Winter ’

s Universitatsbuchhandlung . pp. XII, 264.

(Germanische Bibliothek herausg . von Wilh . Streitberg .

1 . Sammlung germanischer Elementar-u . Handbiicher.

1 . Reihe : Grammatiken . 3. Band. )Hens ler ’

s Altislc'

indisehes E lementarbuch (1 91 3) appears as

the second edition of Bernh . Kahle ’

s Altislandisches Elementarbuch though the author has given the materialin the latter a most thoroughgoing revi sion in his own sty leand has added much from his own knowledge of the presents tatus of the ques tions and from his own experience as a

Univers ity teacher and lecturer in Old N orse. Save for thegeneral outline, one may frankly say that the book is new.

F or all of the main parts of the volume Heusler has followed his own plans . In the chapter on Phonology (as alsoin that on Forms ) rarely occurring and doubtful forms havebeen excluded . A laudable practice is adhered to in the

chapter on Forms , in giving the Gothic word by the s ide of

the Icelandic , thus s tress ing the historical as pect in the studyof Forms also. There has always been a tendency, as the

author j ustly points out. to treat only Phonology historically .

Reviews a/nd Notes 31 9

while declension and conjugation are dismissed by des cription .

The student who has had Gothic will welcome a book likeHensler ’

s which constan tly refers him to a Germanic dialectalready learned .

To the third part, on Syntax , Heus ler devotes four timesthe space given to it by Kahle, and it is here that we getthe ripe fruits of the author ’

s admirably clear and apprecia

tive studies in Old Norse literature, especially Old N orseprose. A large number of examples with German translationsillustrate the poin ts in thi s more appreciative than coldlycategoristic study of prose-syntax . Heusler succeeds here ingiving what after all mus t be the ideal of any syntax s tudythe spirit of the sentence.

Five prose selections (pp . 21 2 a vocabulary, and a

short list of eorm’

genda conclude the volume which is at oncea scholarly and an appreciative contribution to the study of

Old Norse.

HERMAN N ALMSTEDT .

University of Missouri .

DR . LEONARD HETTIOH : DER FfiNF FfiSSIGE JAM

BUS IN DEN DRAMEN GOETHES . Ein Beitrag zur

Geschichte und Methodik der Verslehre. (Beitr . z. N .

L itgesch . N . F . Heft IV ) Heidelberg 1 913 VIII,271

S .

Wie Hettich in dem ers ten Abs chn itt seiner Untersuchungausfiihrt

,forderte der Weimarer Stil Goethes eine “

Rythmische Deklamation ”

nach‘

dem Principe “Ers t schiin

,dann

wahr” ; und dies Princip finden wir, wie wi r im Laufe derUntersuchung sehen ,

in Go ethes Blankvers wieder . Wenigervon Bedeutung fii r die Ges taltung seines Verses war fiir

Goethe die Besch'

aftigung mit metrisch-theoretischen Studien ,

wahrend ein Einfiuss des Endecasyllabo und des BlankversesShakespeares nach Hettichs Ansicht s icher ist. Fragen miissteman hier doch auch

,meine ich , oh die Vorliebe fiir einen

starken Schnitt nach den ers ten beiden Hebungen n ichtausserdem noch durch den Alexandriner bestarkt sein kann ,

wie ich in Goethes Jugendproduktion annehmen zu miissenglaubte, wo oft beide Metra gemischt werden .

Von den“zu langen und zu kurzen Versen wird ausge

s chieden , was als kiinstlerische Abs icht angesprochen werdendarf, sodass tabellarisch die Reihenfolge der Werke

,was Rein

heit des F iinifii ss ers betrifft , s ich folgendermas sen dars telltNat. Tochter (1799 Tankred Tasso (1 788

320 Peis e

Iphigenie Romeo Mahomet In den

drei Hauptdramen nimmt also das Gefiihl fiir den Rythmusdes fiinfhebigen Verses immer mehr zu . Die Singspiele Erwinund Elmire, die chronologis ch zwischen Iphigenie und Tasso

fallen ,ordnen s ich auch prozentual vollkommen ein . Von den

fibersetzungen steht Tankred der ungef'

ahr gleichzeitigen‘Natiirlichen Tochter ’

noch am nachs ten, wahrend Mahomet

eine auff'

allige Unsicherheit im Rythmus zeigt , wohl weil erdas erstere der beiden aus dem F ranzosischen iibernommenen

Stii cke is t. Mehr als zehn Jahre sp'

ater folgt Romeo , dermit ungefahr 3 Prozent zwischen Iphigenie und Mahometstiinde

,wenn er nicht noch viele andere metrische Freiheiten

aufwiese. Die Prologe und Theaterreden s ind natiirlich freier gebaut . ”

(p . Ich kann nicht sagen ,dass diese Schluss

folgerung fiir mich uberzeugend ist, dazu s ind die Prozentualunters chiede

, die ausser in Romeo und Mahomet ein Schwanken von nicht einmal 1% aufweisen ,

zu gering . Statistik kannfur mich in solchen Dingen keinen Auss chlag geben ,

es sei

denn durch iiberwaltigende Zahlen . Wertvoller ware eineeingehendere Charakteristik der einzelnen Stii cke. In der

N atiirlichen Tochter erwarten wir dem_

Inhalte und dem ganzen Stile des Stiickes nach , was wir finden . Aber warum unterscheiden sich Tankred und Mahomet so stark ? Sollte da nichtdie Art der N achdichtung Aufschluss geben kiinnen ? Und

wie weit geht tatsachlich die E inwirkung von ShakespearesVers im Romeo ? Was Iphigenie betrifft , so bin ich geneigtanzunehmen ,

dass Goethe verschiedentlich , unter dem Ein

fluss griechischer Chorgesange ganz un'

willkiirlich in Rythmen verfiel wie der Dreier 689 :

“ Voll Miih und eitel Stiickwerk ”

,der in dem schweren Ausgang “

Stiickwérk”(ohne

das s man den Vers deshalb unbedingt vierhebig lesen muss te)die Reminiszenz deutlich zu verraten s cheint . Auch die Verse1 05 3 1i nd 1081 scheinen mir vielleicht zuerst unbewusst unddann absichtlich stehen geblieben zu sein ,

wahrend 877 spater

(leider ) ausgefiillt wurde. Bei 21 74,dem wortkargen “

Lebtwohl ” des Thoas

, giebt Hettich die Abs icht selbst zu . F iir

meine Vermut ung antiker Einwirkung spricht indess deutlichdie Bezierung auf Klytaimnestras Aufhetzung der Eumenidenin Aschylus

’ Drama (Vers 94 if ) , die wir in Iph .

finden

[Lasst nicht den Muttermorder entfliehn !

Verfolgt den Verbrecher . Euch ist cd geweiht ! ]Bei den V ierern

,die in ganzen Komplexen stehen ,

ist natiir

lich die Beziehung noch viel klarer .

W'

eihrend Hettich im Tasso die Dipodien V . 3300 und 341 6


322‘

Peise

doch di e Einzelfalle die allgemeine Tendenz aus , und'

ein

reicher Dichter , der bald durch dieses , bald durch jenesMittel charakterisiert und nicht starr immer denselben Kunstgritt anwendet (wie etwa Grillparzer in der Verwendung vonfreien Versen und F iinffii ssern in seiner Medea, mus ste damin der

“Gesammtdarstellung

”als armer erscheinen . Diese

Einzelfalle w'

aren ,wenn man ihnen eine bewuss te oder unbe

wu sste Kunstabsicht nachweisen konnte,s icher wertvoller

als andere, hier and da doch verhaltnismassig wenig iiberzeugende Prozentrechnungen .

Und mir scheint nun in der Tat, dass hier Absicht vorhanden ist, wie wir an Beispielen nachpriifen kiinnen ,

die Hettichtrotz allem fleiss ig zusammengestellt hat. Tasso 2483 i , 2722

if .,3323. sind aus sers t charakteristis ch fur Tassos Wesen und

erinnern— auch das ist wertvollu an einen gleichen Gebrauchin Goethes Prosa in Werther und in seinen Stras sburgerBriefen ,

wo die Anapher mit “ wenn ”oder “

wie”in Er

regung h'

aufig auftritt . Die Kunstabsicht in den Versen 31 98muss Hettich s elbst zugeben . Das allerdings muss man ,

glaubeich , festhalten : s tumpfer oder klingender Ausgang in stellenweiser Haufung charakterisiert an s ich noch nicht

, erst inVerbindung mit Hoch oder Tiefschluss , mit Enjambementoder F ugenvertiefung wird er bald dies , bald jenes ausdrucken konnen . Man vergleiche dazu die angefiihrten Beispieleoder auch die folgenden aus Iphi genie

V . 65 6 Orest klagt iiber den ihm anhaftenden Fluch,

L eid zu bringen : 7 verse,klingender Aus

gang mit fallender Melodiekurve ohne Eu

j ambement, (Klagekurve) .

V . 10 Iphigenies Klage,ganz ahnlich

, 6 verse.

V . 2129 dagegen ,fiehend hoffnungsvoll : haufiges Eu

j ambement mit Versnachschlag . Die Melodiekurve kommt ers t im folgenden Verse zu

Ende oder ein Vers ist dem andern in seinerMelodie iibergeordnet (2138 wiederholt di eKurve von 2137

,nur biiher wegen der

Steigerung, 2139 noch hoher alsV . 1341 die langausholenden Perioden von 3 oder 4

verknupften Zeilen schildern die Freude desvon Fluche befreiten Orest .

Stumpfen Ausgang dagegen finden wir in den knappen ,

ehernen , schicksalsschweren Versen der Genealogie Iphigenies in den trotzigen Worten Thoas ’

Absicht liegt miiglicherweise auch vor , wenn ,wie Hettich

beobachtet, Goethe bei geschlossenen ,langeren Reden dem

R eviews and N otes

letzten Vers das vom vorhergehenden verschiedene Versgeschlecht giebt, ebenso ,

wenn bei stichomythischen Partieen dieAusg

'

ange wechseln . (Nat. Tochter 425 -7 , 1 81 7-24 Tasso 1 384

tf.,wo Antonio in stumpfen

,Tasso in klingenden Versen

spricht—in denen iibrigens 5 mal i-As sonanz vorkommt . )Hettich wirft im fiinften Abs chnitt (Metrische Druckung

und Erhebung ) die Frage auf, oh die grosse Anzahl der

“Troch

'

aen”im Tasso wohl durch Moritz ’

Theorie der Untermischung der Jamben mit Spondeen

,Daktylen etc. hervor

gerufen sei . Er glaubt nicht , dass das Ethos in allen Fallender Grund fiir schwebende Betonung sei . Ist es n icht vielleicht moglich ,

dass die deutsche Sprache gar n icht so iiberausgeeignet fii r jambisches Metrum ist, wie man oft anzunehmen

neigt,sondern dass durch Inversion ,

Relativpronomen, Con

junction etc. ein Compromiss verlangt Wird,den eben

schwebende Betonung darstellt ? Auss erdem glaube ich,das s

Hettich unter schwebender Betonung viele F'

alle registriert ,wo tats

'

achlich nur ein t erliegen der Senkung zu bemerkenist

’ wie in folgenden Beispielen :

Iph. 2074 Ras ch Abgeschiednen ; Faust 3222 Kalt Staunenden ; Claudine 1401 Wohl ausgedachte. Hier kann tat

s'

achlich das erste Wort gar keinen Akzent beanspruchen ,oh

wohl es durch seine Hiihenlage ein gewisses Gewicht hat.

Wie die Tabellen fii r Schwebende Betonung zeigen,finden

wir sie am haufigsten im Versanfang and am starksten beimVerb . Sobald aber Reim auftritt

,steht das Verb nicht mehr

an ers ter Stelle (Prolog z . Eriiffn . d . Berl . Hat das

nicht etwa direkte Beziehung zum Zurii ckgehen des Enjambements zu gleicher Zeit “

.

2 Solche Wechselbeziehungen solltennoch einmal untersucht werden .

Die nachsten Abschn itte iiber falsche Wortbetonung ent

halten nicht Viel Wichtiges . Ich glaube fas t,Goethe war von

der Theorie zu sehr beeinflusst, wenn er ein“ Zusammen

kn icken des Schauspielers ”bei Versen wahrgenommen haben

will wie etwa diesem : Des stolzen Hofs erniedrigende'

Gnade.

Was hier in den unbedeutenden Silben verloren geht,wird

eben in den stark gedehnten,malenden fibrigen gewonnen .

“Dem Strandenden wiirde ich eher wegen seiner Kakophoniepeinlich empfinden ; und was Worte wie :

“unkenntlich ”

,

unsterblich ”,

“ vollkommen”anbetrifft

, so sind sie eben von

Natur in Jamben zu schwebender Betonung bestimmt .Reih enbrechung , Enjambemen t definiert Hettig als das

Hinwegsetzen des Rythmus iiber die Gruppe der fiinf Jamben ,

d . h . als N ichtrespektierung der graphisch festgehaltenenVerszeile auch als rythmisches Versganze. Dieser Fall tritt

324 F eisa

ein ,wenn die Pause em Versende kleiner wird als eine 1m

Versinnern ,und infolge dessen ein Teil des Verses rythmisch

enger mit dem folgenden oder vorausgehenden Verse zu

sammenh'

angt als mit dem andern Teil des gleichen Verses .

”

Ich habe bereits fruher einmal (Euphor . XVII, p. 5 88 ) meine

konservativere Ans icht dariiber ge'

auss ert,konservativer in

sofern ,als ich behaupte : der 5 fiiss ige Vers kann und muss

trotzalledem bewahrt werden . Eigene Erfahrung beim Rezitieren solcher Verse sowie beim Vorbereiten von Studentenfiir Auft

'

iihrungen haben mich in dieser ("Iberzeugung immermehr bestarkt. Schwere Falle von Brechung haben fas timmer ihren Grund in der beabsichtigen Hervorhebung derletzten Silbe der Reihe. Wir sollten demnach nicht von Endpausenabschw

'

achung sprechen ,da es darauf eigentlich nicht

ankommt , sondern von Dehnung der letzten Silbe, die genaudieselbe Wirkung hat, als ob die Endpause vorhanden ware.

Trotz des hohen Prozentsatzes von Brechungen bei Goethe(ca. 30% ohne deutliche chronologische Entwicklung fii r oderwider ) bleibt der Vers demnach doch intakt . Es wiirde sichsicherlich lohnen , einmal zu untersuchen , in wie vielen Fallenbei Goethe die Brechung wirklich dem Zweck der Dehnungder letzten Silbe dient und in wie vielen Fallen Spannungs

pause beabsichtigt ist, gegen solche Falle,in denen keine

kiinstlerische Absicht angenommen werden kann . Ausserdemscheint mir , das s epische Partieen Brechung bevorzugen ,

lyr

ische sie vermeiden ; die Beispiele, die Hettich (p .

anfiihrt, sprechen durchaus fiir meine Ansicht .Sehr hubsche, malende Wirkung von Brechung stellt dann

der Verfasser zusammen auf Seite 1 48 ff . und zwar mit grossem Geschick, sodass man in der Tat wiinschen miichte, er hattes ich gegen diese Art interpretierender Betrachtung nicht imallgemeinen ablehnend verhalten . Hier einige BeispieleIph . 394 Viel Taten des verworrnen Sinnes deckt/Die N acht mit

schweren F ittichenClaud. 973 E s schwebt die N acht/Mit allen ihren Schauern um uns

her

Erwin 1 5 6 Hoch und hoher/D ie N acht sich uber unsem Klagenwolbte

Iph . 678 drangen w ie (l ie S terne /R ings um uus her unzahlig aus der

N achtTasso 21 21 und alles rings/umher verschwindet ihmN at. Toch. VVcit/V erbreitet euch ihrTas so 1 1 33 Welch neuer Kreis/Entdeckt si ch meinem Auge

N at. Toch. 1 9 78 F ern am R ande/Des nachtumgebenen Ozeans

Ganz entschieden muss bei solchen Untersuchungen auf

das E thos geachtet werden . Es scheint mir, dass Hettich daoft fehlt und Paus en oder Fugenschnitte ansetzt, wo nur bei


26 Peise

Diese Notierun g s cheint mir fals ch . Odysseus weiss , er hatgeschlafen ,

und der Zus chauer weiss es auch .

“ Schlaf” darfdaher nicht akzentuiert werden ,

“ Stimmen das fragende,bekommt die ganze Kraft des Akzentes , und die Fuge musshinter “ mich oder sogar hinter “

fii r” vers choben werden .

In Vers 25 sollte “ahmt den Hauptakzent haben ,

weil esgenug Umspannungsvermiigen erzeugen muss um auf

“nach”

vorzudeutenoder ahmt der frische Wind,

Durch ’s hohe R ohr des F lusses sich bewegend,

Zu meiner Qual die Menschenstimmen nach.

Vers 31 O , dass s ie freundlich mir und zarten Herzens

Dem V ielgeplagten IIdoch begegnen miichten

wie Hettich teilt,wurde bedeuten : S ie sollen ihm doch be

gegnen ; macht man die Fuge dagegen nach“ doch so be

deutet es : sie sollen ihm freundlich begegnen .

N at. Tocht. 426 O mocht ich (Tag auf Tage) so erleben !

Hettichs Gliederung und Akzentuierung scheint mir hierwieder einmal ohne Rii cksicht aufs Ethos

,prosaisch . Mit

starkem Gefiihl wii rde s ich der Vers fiir mi ch so dars tellen :

O mocht ich Tag auf Tage so erlebenN ausikaa 46 E rprobte Manner in G efahr und Miihe

Die Fuge vor und”ist steigernd

,das sollte es aber hier

nicht sein ,bei einfacher Aneinanderreihung tri tt der Schnitt

immer nach ‘ ‘und

”ein .

Scheint es auch oft so, als ware nach di eser Seite hin derWillkiir ein weites Feld gelas sen ,

und als ktinnte der eine denoder jenen Vers so

“empfinden ”

,der andere so

,es kommt

trotz alledem auf die richtige Interpretation an,die in glei

cher Weise Sinn und Ethos der Stelle genau beachten mus s .

Prinzipielle Untersuchungen experimenteller Art t'

aten uns

sehr not !Der Vierte Teil der Arbeit, Euphonisches und Melodischesbehandelnd , gicht vor allem einen fiberblick iiber die SieversRutzschen Theorieen ohne viel E ignes hinzuzutun (was demVerfass er durchaus nicht zur Las t gelegt werden soll ) . Es

is t vorlaufig , wenn man nicht selbst mit Sievers oder Rutz gearbeitet hat, schwer , s ich auf diesem Gebiete zurecht zu finden ,

da viele von den friiheren Veroffentlichungen veraltet oderin der Terminologie irreleitend s ind

,so meine eigenen Aus

fi ihrungen in meiner Untersuchung iiber Goethes Knittelvers(L eipzigEin letzter Abschnitt endlich orientiert uber Hiatus und

Synkopierung .

Wenn wir somit uberschauen ,was in dem Buche Hettichs

geleistet ist, so miichten wir vielleicht anfangs geneigt sein ,

Reviews and Notes 327

mit dem Verfasser zu fragen , oh die Resultate als nicht imVerhaltnis stehend ers cheinen zu der Unsumme von Zeit undstatistischer Arbeit , die sie erforderten .

”Das ware indessen

durchaus ungerecht ; zuriickblickend untersch'

atzt der

Schwimmer meist die zuriickgelegte Strecke, und man darfvon einer Untersuchung von iiber 1 5 000 Vers en verschiedenster Werke keine V iillig ausschtipfende und abschliessende Arbeit verlangen . Der Verfasser hat mit ungeheurem Fleiss ,mit Umsicht und guter methodischer Schulung und endl ichmit ausserordentlicher Belesenheit in der einschl

'

agigen L it

teratur eine fes te Grundmauer aufgebaut und das statistischeGeriist geschlagen . Seine Nachfolger werden bei weitemleichtere Arbeit haben . Was nunmehr getan werden mussist dies : Die einzelnen Werke mussen in ihrer besondernEigenh eit eingehender charakteris iert , die Dars tellungsmittelmiissen in ihren Wechselbeziehungen verglichen und GoethesVers muss—ein Anfang dazu ist s chon von Hettich gemachtin die Entwicklung der Form im allgemeinen und die Reiheder iibrigen Dramatiker eingeordnet werden . E ine Arbeitwie die vorliegende bedeutet einen guten Schritt vorwarts auf

demWege.

ERNST F EISE .

University of Wiscons in .

N EWPORT, CLARA PRICE : WOMAN IN THE

THOUGHT AND WORK OF FRIEDRICH HEBBEL .

A Thesis submitted for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy . The Univers ity of Wiscons in . Madison , Wis . 1 912.

Dr . N ewport approached her subject from the standpoint ofthe scholar and of the woman , and was , therefore able to see

some of the Hebbel problems from a new and interestingangle. A brief Introduction traces succinctly the changeswhich have taken place since 1 800 in the position of womenin the world and hence in literature. Hebbel ’s works

,both in

prose and Verse, prove that he passed through a s imilar evolution in his attitude towards women—an evolution whi ch keptpace exactly with his own inner development and was influ

enced by the varying fortunes of his life and the womenwith whom he came in contact .During the Wesselburen period

,as the autobiography and

the lyr ics show, woman was to him the dream-maiden , the

creature all soul , all loveliness ,“to be adored rather than

desired.

”True love often culminated in death , marriage

328 Becker van Klenze

was usually looked upon as a profanation (pp . 1 3 ii ) . The

women who entered his life during the Hamburg and Munichperiod—mainly Elise, Emma Schroeder , Josepha Schwartzchanged the picture. The predominating trait of all three

,

as seen from the letters and diaries,was their complete sub

jugation to the powerful masculine personality,with whom

they had no means of coping on equal terms,and who repaid

their worship with pass ion not unmixed with contempt .Hebbel ’s mental attitude at this time is best reflected in “

Ju

dith ”and

“Genoveva The latter is the ideal : submiss ive,

saintly, beautiful , and noble. She does not by entering thesphere of action go beyond the legitimate limit of her sex ,

(p . 71 ) Judith,though inspired by the Deity, has s tepped be

yond woman ’

s permissible bounds , by attempting initiativeaction . Mirza serves as the mouthpiece of Hebbel ’s condemnation of Judith ’

s deed . He himself had stated that Judithwas aimed agains t the emancipation of women . In otherwords

, Genoveva is held up to women as a model , Judith as a

warning (p . Later Dr . N ewport points out that Mariamne, whom she calls “

the new Judith ” implies a completereversal in Hebbel ’s attitude (p . Maria Magdalena”

marks a step beyond Judith ,for here Hebbel arraigns society

for its use of woman .

“Judith is a criticism of woman ,

and‘Maria Magdalena ’

of society”(p . In the last period ,

when Christina Enghaus had made him acquainted wi th a

new type of woman ,one who could love without exhausting

her entire personality in the sex function ,he took a further

step : the admiss ion that woman has a right to protectionag ains t attacks on her individuality (p . we might addeven when these attacks are made in the name of love. Mariamne is the culmination of this development . “ Here for thefirst time in his work

,we have a real tragic heroine treated

sympathetically”(p. Judith has been rendered unfit

for life by breaking through “ woman ’s sphere”

of pas sivity ;Genoveva, the saint

,was martyred for the good of the world

without being given a chan ce of resistance ; Clarawas“ pushed

out of life”; but Mariamne left life when life was bereft of

inner dignity (p . Illuminating is the author ’s parallel

ism between Judith and Mariamne, Clara and Eugenie, Genoveva and Agnes , showing that Hebbel went back to the same

type of dramatic heroine, but from a new point of View.

In the process of tracing this evolution Dr. N . gives someacute analysis of dramatic characters . Her sympathetic depiction of Judith (p . 60) contains an original bit of cri ticismupon the passage in which Judith des cribes the humiliating


330 Becker von Klenze

may perhaps without cavil be suggested that the study beforeus would have gained in value and accessibili ty, had the bulknot been unduly increased by lengthy analyses of those worksof Hebbel which furn ished virtually no material for thisstudy, and of the many male characters which have no bearing upon the subject under dis cus sion . In the Introduction ,

Kleist ’s heroines are rather summarily disposed of as on the

same plane with Schiller ’

s from the point of view of modernity. Kleist was—probably quite un consciously—one of the

first innovators in this direction . His Natalie and Marquisevon 0. exhibit at leas t traces of that conscious assertion of

the dign ity of the individual which shows itself both in

ques tion ing the social order and in initiative action, and

which marks the parting of the ways of the old conceptionof woman and the modern . Though it may seem a far cry fromNatalie to Nora, yet Kleist mus t rank as one of the first of the

moderns . We look forward with anticipation to the author ’s

promised study of the women of Kleist and of Ibsen,and

sugges t that illuminating sidelights might be obtained by comparisons with those of Maeterlinck and of Strindberg.

HENRIETTA BECKER VON KLENZE .

FRIEDRICH GUNDOLPH ,SHAKESPEARE UND DER

DEUTSCHE GEIST—George Bondi , Berlin ,1 91 1 . VIII

360 pp .

During the last few years a movement has sprung up in

Germany toward more vital literary criticism than was pos

sible when scholars aimed to make of this dis cipline a purescience. N ew insights into the nature of art have arous edand fostered new ideals of scholarship . F or some time artistsas well as critics and writers on aesthetics have laid emphas isupon the fact that ‘

something experienced ’—an Erlebnis—isthe great generative principle of art ; and they have felt thatthe value of art lies in its ability to arouse such ‘

experiencing ’

in those who react upon it, such ”‘experiencing ’ being valuable

indeed,because it liberates vital forces and thus gives that

heightened sense of‘ life-feeling ’ which is cherished as the

summum bonum. This being the rationale of art and its

effect upon others,one has come to feel that the ofiice of the

critic lies in determining and interpreting the artist ’

s concrete‘

experience ’

,which found expression in the particular work

of art, in the light of the larger‘experience ’

or manner of reacting upon life and the material of living, which was dom


inantly characteristic of him,and which underlies and suffuses

all his separate art productions . By disengaging and

des cribing this ‘experience ’

the critic produces in his readera more Vivid sense of it than would otherwise have been probable ; and he thus aids that liberation of vital processes , withthe consequent heighten ing of life-feeling, which is indeedone of the great functions of art.

It is obvious that the chief proces s involved in the critic ’s

task is that of Einfuehlung or sympathetic identification of

himself with the artist and his work. The critic holds in abeyance his personal subjectivity and aims at truthful objectiveanalysis ; yet he knows that purely objective criticism is as

impossible as it is undesirable. F or it has been recognizedthat an artist ’

s work— being, as it were, a universe in itself ,infinitely suggestive in the complexity of its component partsand characteristics— is capable of freeing widely differing setsof life-forces in different people and in difierent ages : onlythat being apprehended at any one time which is recognizedbecause it aids the self-un foldment of those who react uponthe work of art. The critic ’

s reaction having thus itself beenan

‘

experience ’—the nature of which was determined by hispersonality and his needs as determined in their turn by thecharacter and needs of his age and people—a certain amountof subjectivity in his work is unavoidable. The more com

pletely he is a typical , focalized embodiment of the chief forcesand tendencies of his age, the greater and more Vital will behis criticism. He will be an active power in promoting thecultural growth of his people.

A study, through successive periods , of the critical reactionsupon a single artist—if he is a great artist and if the ‘

re

actors ’upon his work are of typical importance and of dom

inating infiuence—undoubtedly furnishes an interesting and

valuable contribution to the s tory of a country ’s cultural

growth . The proces s which must underlie such historic criticism is again ,

and in a heightened degree, that of Einfuehlung : Einfuehlung into all the possible phases of the artist ’

s

work, and likewise into the‘

experiences ’of the vari ous critics .

Such a his tory of criticism has lately been given to the

German world in Gundolph’s Shakespeare und der deutsche

Geist. N ot only is the subject of the investigation—Shakespeare—one of the transcendent artis ts of the world, but,moreover , the critics whose reactions are analyzed are for the

most part the great typical poets who have shaped Germanliterature and German mental life. Having s tudied all earli

er reactions upon Shakespeare, Gundolph ends by giving his

332 Kuefiner

own reaction—his own reaction as determined by the mentalstructure and the needs of the German people of today .

Stimulated by Nietzsche ’

s Vindication of the mere process oflife, and influenced

,also

,by Bergson

’s dynamic in terpreta

tion of its ceas eless flow,Gundolph feels that what the world

and Germany in particular need today,is the

“ will and thepower to endure reality”

, that is , the power to endure concretelife in its sovereign brutality , with all its throes as well asjoys . This reality, this teeming brutal reality , as well as thepower to endure it, he finds in Shakespeare : Shakespeareseems to him the

“ humanly embodied creativeness of life itself ” , the symbol of that tireless Vital impulse which rejoicesin its inexhaustible flow of concrete creations without any

thought of ulterior purpose.

Approaching the study of the influence exerted by Shakespeare in Germany with this view dominant in his consciousness , Gundolph says that Shakespeare is the most importantand the most eas ily intelligible symbol of the process by whichthis creativefness was won for German poetry, and he interprets the story of Shakespeare ’

s influence in Germany as the

story of the reawakening and gradual development of the

creative life-powers which seemed to have been lost duringthe as cendency of rationalism. He shows how the variousfollowers and proclaimers of Shakespeare, themselves symbolic precipitates of forces active at their time, dis covered andOpened up province after province of mental life ; each one

finding in Shakespeare just that quality, just that soul

value,that ‘

experience ’

,which his own particular ‘

experience ’

or manner of apprehending life needed and demanded . The

nature of each of these influences or tributaries into the greatstream of German mental life is carefully formulated.

Gundolph shows first how Germany in the seventeenthcentury—during the age of disintegration which culminatedin the Thirty Years ’ War— received from the English comedians a Shakespeare shorn of his great qualities : the merecrude material of a number of plays transformed into melodrama

,horse-play

,and blood-and-thunder . After a consider

ation of Gotts ched horrified, who could see in Shakespeareonly absolute lawlessness , Gundolph says that L essing , having recognized in Shakespeare ’

s plays the same tragic poweror quality which he had found in the Greeks , admired and

( C‘

proclaimed in him the supreme intelligence”the possess ion

of which , he says , makes it possible for the genius of every raceand of every age to recognize essen tial laws , in this cas e,the fundamental , eternal laws of tragedy and the tragic . N ext


334 Kuefiner

speare ’s frank supermoral realism nor his robust acceptance

of mere elemental life in its brutal actuality.

To Gundolph himself, permeated as he is by the new lifefeeling of whi ch N ietzsche is the great exponent , Shakes peareseems a symbol of the supercons cious , supermoral Vital impulse which wills life unwearyingly ; and Shakespeare ’

s workseems the symbol of sovereign concrete reality “ beyond goodand evil . Therefore, finding in him the power to endure andto present the depths and heights of reality

,its brutality, its

concrete ‘

individualness’

,he thinks that the time is now ripe

for a new interpretation of Shakespeare, and for a new translation . This translation he himself is making .

Thus the s tory of Shakespeare ’s influence in Germany is

seen to form an important chapter in the story of the de

velopment of German mental life, and in the history of

German civilization . At the same time it has typical value.

A simi lar investigation of Shakespeare ’

s influence in Englandwoul d be both interesting and valuable. In many ways thejudgments in this book , and the whole argument

, are stronglycolored by Gundolph

’s N ietzschean outlook upon life ; yet

though one may sometimes disagree, as e. g . in the cas e of

his onesided and petty criticism of Schiller, one is always stim

ulated ; moreover, the treatise contains many excellent and

sugges tive appreciations of Shakespeare ’

s work ; thus the bookis one which should in every way command the interest ofthe English-speaking public . It is a mas terpiece of historiccriticism, competent, vital , original .

LOU ISE MALLINKRODT KUEF F N ER .

Vassar College.

NEUE FAUSTLITERATUR .

Die deutsche F aus tforschung der letzten Jahre hat sich ,soweit sie mir fruchtbar und fiirdernd ers cheint, vorziiglich

mit dem Problem der Ents tehung der Dichtung besch'

aftigt .

S ie hat, um nachschaffend das Geheimnis zu ergriinden ,

tiefer als bisher ges chehen war , in die Werks tatt‘

des Dichterseinzudringen versucht und hier in der wunderbaren Ver

schlingung der magisch-theosophischen Mystik mit Herdersgarender Geisteswelt die beiden Grundmachte erkann t , dieden dichterischen Schopfungsprocess heimlich bestimmten .

Der Untersuchung dieser beiden Grundmachte s ind denn auchdie Schriften gewidmet, die hier besprochen werden sollen .

Da i ch glaube in meinem F austcommentar N ew York, Henry


Holt Co.,1907 ) den ersten Versuch gemacht zu haben ,

die Doppelwelt , die die Weltanschauung des jungen Goethe

umfasste, genauer zu priifen ,so sind mir zunachs t vielleicht

einige pers iinliche Bemerkungen erlaubt .

Als ich vor ungefahr zehn Jahren an di e Ausarbeitungmeiner F austausgabe s chritt , war mir langst klar geworden ,

dass sich mit der iiberlebten philosophis chen Erkl '

arungsweise

eben so wenig anfangen las se wie mit der landlaufigen

Mikrologie der sogenannten F austphilologie. Denn wie jene

hinter der Miene des Tiefsinns di e hiilzernste Vorstellungvon Dichtung 11nd dichteris chen Schatten barg, so verstecktesich hinter dieser bei aller gefeierten Vollendung der ‘Me

thode ’eine Unf

'

ahigkeit kiinstlerisch’

en Nachfiihlens und

Nachschaft’

ens , fiir die es eine E insicht in den Dichtungs

process iiberhaupt nicht gab . Und nicht weniger war ichiiberzeugt, dass gerade von dieser E insicht d . h . von dem

divinatorischen Tiefblick in die Dichterseele und ihr fiihlendesSinnen und webendes Traumen die hochste L eistung des

Interpreten abhangt : hinzudringen zu dem Punkte aus dem

das Kunstwerk gequollen ist, das es von hier aus nachschaffendzu verstehen gilt.

Da fiel mir eines Tages die reiche Sammlung alchemis tischer Werke eines befreundeten ,

friihverstorbenen Chemikers indi e Hande. Die N eugier , selbst einmal in die seltsame Weltzu blicken

, die den Wiss ens chaftlichen Freund interess ierthatte, liess mich mehrere der Werke vornehmen ,

und es

dauerte nicht lange bis ich mich gefesselt fiihlte. N icht nurvon dem Anklang mancher Wendungen und Ausdriicke an

bekannte F auststellen ,sondern vor Allem von dem mystis ch

poetischen Hauch der Weltauffassung, die hinter diesenkrausen Dingen stand und unzahlige Geister jahrhundertelang in ihrem Bann gehalten hatte. Erst jetzt trat mir lebendig vor die Augen wie eng die Alchemie mit der As trologieverkniift war , und wie beide von dem Gedanken der natiir

lichen Magie zusammengehalten wurden . Einmal in dies enZauberkreis getreten , empfand ich es wie einen inneren Zwangihn ganz und nach allen Seiten hin zu durchmessen ,

lind

zu erfahren , wie Alchemie, As trologie, und Theurgie ‘eins

im andern lebt und alles s ich zum Ganzen webt . ’Ich lebte

nach was der junge Goethe ‘

in seiner Frankfurter Dachstubeerlebt haben musste, als er diese Welt mit der religib

‘

sen In

brunst des rettungsuchenden Totkranken ergriff,und die Um

risse der Faustdi chtung zuers t dem ‘triiben Blick ’

s chauerndaufgedammert sein miigen . Noch klingen j a di es e tiefenmystisch religiiisen Erfali rungen der jungen Dichterseele,

336 Goebel

wenn auch ged'

ampft, in dem ausfuhrlichen Bericht von Dichtung und Wahrheit nach . Und in dem Kapitel iiber JohannBaptist Porta in seiner Geschi chte der Farbenlehre weissGo ethe noch auf der t e des Mannesalters der Bedeutungder natiirlichen Magic fiir die Entwickelung der N aturwiss ens chatten gerecht zu werden und vor Allem di e ihr zu Grundeliegende Geistesstimmung zu wii rdigen : das erwartungs

volle,hoifende, glaubige Verhalten dem Geheimnis gegenuber ,

das Vorahnen zukiinftiger Mbglichkeiten ,das seiner eigenen

Geistesrichtung so Viel eher entsprach als Zweifelsucht, Unglaube und die negierende, erkaltende Manier der N eueren .

Ich habe in der E inleitung zu meiner F austausgabe ver

sucht , die noch ungeschriebene Geschichte der mystich-theoSOphischen Weltanschauung wenigstens nach ihren Umrissendarzustellen : ihre Entstehung im N euplatonismus

,besonders

bei Plotin , ihre Wiedergeburt und Ueubegrundung im Zeitalter der Renaissance, ihr Fortleben in der Theosophie des1 7 Jahrhunderts und ihr schliessliches E indringen in die

Kreise des Pietismus , in denen s ie Goethe zum innersten Er

lebnis ward . Ich konnte heute,nach eingehender Bes chafti

gung mit der Vorgeschichte der Royal Society of England anddem Einfiuss deutscher Mys tik

,namentlich Weigels und

Bbhmes auf das Geistesleben Englands,dieser Skizze noch

hinzufiigen ,dass auch die Anfiinge der experimentellen N a

turforschung und der rein mechan istischen Weltauffas sungnoch von der Hiille der Theosophie ums chlossen s ind . Fastalle Begriinder der Royal Society sind dieser Weltanschau

ung ofien oder geheim noch zugetan .

Es war vorauszus ehen,das s mein Vers uch das Problem der

Entstehung von Goethes Faust auf diesem Wege der Lbsungnaher zu fiihren ,

der landlaufigen deutschen Kritik nicht bequem sein wiirde. Noch ist es j a nicht so lange her

,dass es

Herrn Wagner beim blossenWorteMystik um Herz 1i nd Bus enbange wurde. Etwas papiernen Einfluss von Swedenburgauf die bekannte Stelle im ersten Monologe Fausts hatte er

mit Erlaubn is Erich Schmidts wol noch zaghaft zugegeben .

Aber in die dunklen Regionen zu dringen ,allwo die woibe

kannte Schaar haust , die dem Menschen tausendf'

altige Ge

fahr von allen Enden her bereitet, wie h'

atte der Aengstlichees wagen diirfen ? Dazu kam

,dass er kein Englisch versteht,

11nd mein Commenter war in dieser geheimnisvollen Sprachegeschrieben . Mit Recht hat kiirzlich Hermann Collitz imVorwort zu seiner tref’flichen Sammlung Hespem

’

a iiber die

N ichbeachtung der Leistungen amerikanischer Wiss ens chaftin Deutschland sich beklagt. N ach meinen eigenen Erfahrungen verbirgt sich hinter dem hochmii tigen Totschweigen


338 Goebel

und damit seinen Helden un ter das Gesetz der Entwickelungzu s tellen . Wie der Dichter dabei an Wellings Warnung an

kn iipfte, wonach die bbsen Geister der Luft s ich demMenschen leicht in verstellter Ges talt gesellen ,

ihn aus einerVerfiihrung in die andere treiben ,

‘

bis endl ich die vollkommene Zauberei und der ganzliche Abfall durch das Ahschwiiren gezeuget, so dann die letzte Scena der Opera ist,

’

hat die Verfasserin ebenfalls bemerkt .Oh Goethe den Unterschied zwischen den beiden Arten der

Magie gekannt habe, ist sonach eine iiberfiiiss ige Frage. Es

geht nicht nur aus Fausts Worten :

Oh mir durch Geistes Kraft und Mund

N icht manch Geheimnis wiirde kund,Dass ich erkenne, was die Welt

Im Innersten zusammenhalt,Schau alle Wirkungskraft und SamenU nd tu nicht mehr in Worten kramen,

womi t er das Wesen der Magia naturalis aus spricht,sondern

auch aus dem weiteren Verlauf der Scene hervor. Denn wersich in der L iteratur der natii rlichen Mag ic naher umgesehenhat, der weiss , das s ihre Bekenner die Erscheinung lind

Berufung von Geistern— natiirlich von guten—fur moglich

und erlaubt hi elten . Wenn Frl . Bartscherer in ihrem ein

seitigen Bestreben Goethes Kenntn is der Magic and Theurgieallein auf. Paracelsus zu beschr

'

anken , besonderes Gewichtdarauf legt

,dass dieser in seiner Philosophia occulta lehre,

die wahre Magic gebrauche Ceremonien , Conj urationes , Consecrationes 11 . s . w. nicht, so hat sie iibersehen ,

dass derselbeParacelsus in seiner Astronomia magna (Frankfurt 1 5 71S . 28 if . ) dem wahren Magus dieMacht zuschreibt , di e F lagaed . h . die Geister, ‘

di e des Menschen Heimlichkeit wissen,

’zu

zwingen ihm ihre Geheimn isse zu Offenbaren . Und in demselben Werke (S . 44 ) erklart er , dass

‘Worter 11nd Characteres ’

d . h . also Bcschwtirungsformeln und Zeichen ,wie Faus t

sie gebraucht , Kraft besitzen und dem Magus zu Gebotes tehen .

Wie die Bedeutung der Magia naturalis,so hat die Ver

fasserin auch die Wichtigkeit der Astrologie und Alchemiefiir die friih e Faustdichtung richtig erkannt . Hatte dochAgrippa von N ettesheim,

De incertitudine p . 1 61 (1 643)schon langst betont : ‘Magia cum As trologia sic con junctaatque cognata est, ut, qui magiam s ine astrologia profiteaturis n ihil agat

, sed tota aberret V ia.

’ Mit welcher Kuns t es

Goethe verstanden hat, von dieser engen Verwandtschaft fiirden Aufbau der Scene Gebrauch zu machen , tritt bei Frl .Bartscherer freilich nicht klar genug zu Tage.


Der angehende Magier Faust wendet s ich dem Manus criptdes As trologen Nostradamus darum zu

,weil er auf dem Wege

der As trologie zum Verkehr mit den Geistern kommen will .Es handelt s ich in der betreti

’enden F auststelle vor Allem

um Begrifi und Bedeutung der ‘ Seelenkraft.

’Ich glaube in

meinem Oommentar wie in dem erwahnten Aufsatz iiber die

Quelle zur Erdgeistscene iiber jeden Zweifel fes tges tellt zu

haben ,das s es die m

’

s imaginationis ist d . h . das Geistesver

miigen der Phantas ie das nach neuplatonischer Ans chauung,besonders aber nach der L ehre des Jamblichus

, das Mittelist, durch das die Geister mit dem Menschen verkehren . Keinbesserer Beweis aber fiir di e R ichtigkeit meiner Auffassungals das wunderbare Bild, das in Fausts Phantas ie sofort beimAnblick des Makrokosmoszeichens aufsteigt . Denn ein grossartiges Phantasiebild und nicht etwa eine Geistererscheinungist es , was Faus t vor diesem Zeichen erlebt . Und er kann es

erleben Kraft der geheimn isvollen Wirkung der‘ heiligen

Zeichen ’—divina synthemata oder symbola nennt sie Jamblichus— in denen die Geis ter ihr Ebenbild erkennen und

durch die sie darum,ohne menschliches Zutun,

der Phantas iedes Theurgen s ich kundgeben .

Auch hier hat Frl . Bartscherer mit ihrer Annahme, dassParacelsus den Gebrauch von Zeichen und Beschwiirungen

nicht zulasse, sich das tiefere Verst'

andnis verbaut . Daher istihr denn die ausserordentliche Bedeutung

,die das Wort

(Xé‘

rog, verbum ,nomen

,sermo ist der technische Ausdruck

dafiir ) in der Magic,der natiirlichen ,

wie in der Zaubereihat, vers chlossen geblieben . Ich miisste hier meinen Oommentar auss chreiben ,

wollte ich diese Bedeutung des ‘Wortes ’ mitStellen belegen und zeigen ,

dass sie dem jungen Goethe nu

miiglich kann entgangen sein .

Schliesslich stimmen Frl . Bartscheres Ausfiihrungen uberdie Alchemie in Goethes Faust Vielfach mit meinen Er

gebniss en iiberein . Ich halte diesen Abschnitt fur den wertvollsten ihrer Schrift , wenn es mir auch s cheinen will

,als

habe di e Verfass erin hier ebenfalls manches Wichtige iibersehen . Zunachst die .volle Bedeutung der Tatsache

,dass

Goethe den Vater Fausts einfiihrt und zwar als Alchemistenund Quacksalber . Zweierlei hat der Dichter damit beabsichtigt . Wie der Blick auf die Herkunft und die JugendzeitFausts uns zeigt , in welcher Luft Goethe ihn aufwachsenlasst—es ist der paracelsisch gef

'

arbte mys tisch-theosophischePietismus der Klettenbergschen Kreise—so wird gerade dieErinnerung an diese dumpfe Jungendzeit, die Faust nun ,

nach der Enttauschung durch den Erdgeist,

ein Meertiirichter, j a verbrecherischer Irrtiimer erscheint , zum stark

340 Goebel

sten Motiv innerlich den Uebergang zur Teufelsbeschworungvorzubereiten und schliess lich zu vollziehen

,wovor Welling

den Magus warnte. N icht umsonst hat der Dichter geradehier

,wo Faust die ‘

Geister der Luft ’

anruft und wo Wagnervor der

‘

wolbekannten Schaar ’ warnt, sich an Wellings Werk

angelehnt . Damit aber steht wol iiber allem Zweifel fest,dass wenigstens dieser Teil der Scene ‘

Vor dem Tor’ mit zu

des Dichters friihen Conceptionen gehiirte und dass er bei

ihrer schliess lichen Ausarbeitung Viel altes Material benutzthaben muss .

Dies fiihrt mich zu einer allgemeinen Bemerkung. Ich

halte Frl . Bartscherers Methode zum Beweis ihrer These auchsp

'

at ents tandene F austs tellen heranzuziehen ,fiir verfehlt.

Es lassen sich in Goethes Verhaltnis zur magisch-theoscphischen Mystik deutlich zwei Perioden unterscheiden . Ich

miichte die erste die Periode des naiven Erlebnisses und die

zweite die der gelehrten Vermittelung nennen . Die ers tereicht bis in die Zeit der italien ischen Reise und hat in der

Hex enkiiche wie in der Scene ‘Wald und Hohle,

’

wo die er

sehnte Henos is der Theurgie erreicht schein t , ihre letztenAusl

'

aufer . Die zweite Periode beginnt mit der Wiederaufnahme der Dichtung unter Schillers Einfluss lind schliesstdie Arbeit am 2 . Teil in s ich . Was s ich aus dieser Scheidungfiir die Entstehungsfrage und die F austkritik iiberhaupt er

gibt, habe ich in meinem Commentar zu zeigen versucht.

Das s Goethe auch in s einer ers ten Periode die mag isch mystiche L iteratur durchfors cht habe, versteht s ich nach seinemeigenen Zeugn is von selbst . Aber ein anderes ist die L ektiire

,auch die ausgebreitetste, des glaubigen Jiingers der

Magia naturalis , und ein anderes das bewusste Studium des

reifen Mannes , der sich auf diese Weise in die versunkene,ahnungsvolle Jugendwelt zuriickversetzen will .Ich glaube

,dass s ich Frl . Barts cherer Goethes fruhes Schaf

fen am Faust viel zu bii chermass ig gelehrt, zu s chulmeisterhaft auf historische Treue berechnet vorstellt (s . z. B . S .

S ie vergisst dariiber die Tradition der magischen Mystik, in

der die L iteratur,die Goethe damals bew

'

altigte, noch in

einem Masse lebendig war wie wir heute kaum mehr ahnen .

F ur den Kenner der Zeit ist es darum gerade zu ausge

schlossen , dass Goethe einzig auf Paracelsus und die von

ihm abh'

angigen Schrifts teller s ich beschrankt und in jenemdas Urbild zu seinem Faust gefunden haben solle. N i chtnur Morhofs Polyhistor , sondern vor Allem Arnolds Kirchenund Ketzergeschz

'

chte, diese weitblickende historische Apologieder magisch -mystischen Weltanschauung durch einen ihrer


342 Goebel

Zunachst mochte ich meine Verwunderung nicht zuruck

halten iiber die beklagenswerte Unkenntn is Herders und den

wahren Character seines Verh'

ailtnisses zu Goethe,welche die

Kritik von Jacobys Buch Vielfach zu Tage gefordert hat.Denn um di esem Buche vollig gerecht zu werden bedarf es

n icht nur der gross ten Vertrautheit mit Herders Geisteswelt ,sondern auch der genauen E insicht in die Art wie Goetheandere bedeutende Zeitgenossen der Reihe nach lebendig auf

s ich wirken liess : Klopstock,Wieland und zuletzt

, j a nebenHerder am tiefsten , Schiller, seinen grossten Mitbewerber.Die Zeugn isse, die hierfiir in dem Briefwechsel zwischenGoethe und Schiller vorliegen , s ind ganz besonders lehrreich

,Goethes einzige F ahigkeit aufnehmender Hingabe und

innerer Umbildung zu begreifen . Er gibt sich Schiller sozusagen in di e Hand , will von diesem aus seinen Grenzen hin

ausgetrieben werden ,l

’

asst s ich von ihm zum ‘Wollen lernen ’

und zum Vaterlandischen mahnen und n immt sogar selber‘

philos0phisches Denken’

in Schillers Sinne an . Noch langenach dessen Tode lasst s ich beobachten ,

wie er in SchillersGeist spricht und denkt .Der so im reifsten Mannesalter sich nach anderer Geistesrichtung ‘

umzuarten’suchte

,wie muss er in bildsamster

Jugendzeit Herder umfasst und in sich aufgenommen haben ,

den geistgewaltigen Verkiinder eines ganz neuen L ebens ! 3

Und wie selbstverst'

andlich ist es , das s s ich die Grundanschauungen der Beiden auf Jahrzehnte hin decken ! Als oh die

Grossen jener Zeit n icht schliess lich alle an der Verwirklich

ung eines grossen Programmes gearbeitet hatten !Das s es s ich in Jacobys Buch um den bis heute wichtigstenBeitrag handelt, das einzige Verhaltn is zwischen Goethe und

Herder zu ergrunden ,die Abh

'

angigkeit des j iingeren vom

alteren Freunde zu bestimmen und ihr Zusammendenken zu

verfolgen , scheinen die meisten seiner Kritiker iibersehen zu

haben . Keiner aber scheint mir bedacht zu haben ,dass gerade

dann,wenn man Jacobys These, Herder Faus t, ablehnt ,

immer noch ein hiichst bedeutendes und schwieriges Problemzu liisen iibrig bleibt .Mit erstaun licher Belesenheit l1nd feinem Spurs inn hat

Jacoby die Zeugn isse des Zusammendenken der Beiden , so

weit di e geistige Welt der Faustdichtung in Betracht kommt ,in seinem Buche vorgelegt und zu zeigen versucht

,dass eine

Uebereinstimmung wie eine Abhangigkeit Goethes von Herderauch in den Teilen der Dichtung stattfindet, die nach meinerUeberzeugung in den oben besprochenen , magisch-theosoph

‘ Vergl. meinen Aufsatz ‘Herder und Goethe’

, Goethe-Jahrbuch

XXV, 1 5 6 ff.

R eviews and N otes 343

ischen Erlebnissen Goethes wurzeln . Habe ich dami tRecht , dann bleibt eben immer noch die Aufgabe zu liisen ,

wie so Vieles im Faust an Aehnliches bei Herder anklingenkann ,

zumal Jacoby es selbs t als ‘l

'

acherliche Zumutung’ah

weist,

‘

sich vorstellen zu sollen ,Goethe habe den Faust aus

den einzelnen Schriften Herders zusammengestoppelt’

(S .

Ich glaube,das s die Losung des Problems in der Tatsache

zu suchen ist, dass auch Herder tief aus dem Geiste der

Mystik getrunken hatte, und dass die vielen Zusammens tim

mungen und Ankl'

ange zuletzt aus gleicher Quelle geflossen

sind . Noch fehlt uns j a eine griindliche Untersuchung iiberden Anteil

,den die Mystik an der Grundverfas sung des

Herderschen Geistes , des vielseitigen ,allumfassenden hatte.

Was ihn,den Schii ler Hamanns , zu ihr hingezogen hatte,

mag eine Stelle aus einem Briefe an Lavater wenigstensandeuten :

‘Ich habe durch keinen unsere Bibel lieber be

kommen als durch Kinder und N arren d . i . Mystiker und

Philosophen . Die Mystiker sind auch Philosophen nach ihrerArt, anders n icht zu betrachten (sie en twickeln und r

'

a

soniren aus ihrer N atur und Empfindung ) , und im Ganzenzieh ich sie den Wolffianern weit vor . Bei diesen wird allesMas chine, bei jenen doch alles L eben und Empfindung . Nur

ihr L icht brennt im Rauch .

’

Mit Recht weist Jacoby in dem wichtigsten Kapitel seinesBuches (Das Gefiihl und die L ehre Herders vom Mens chen )auf die centrale Bedeutung hin

,die gerade die Begrifie

‘Leben ’

und‘

G‘refiihl

’fiir den jungen Herder hatten . Be

grifie, die er an Goethe weiter gab , wie sie ihm selbst gewisseinst an der Mys tik aufgegangen sein mochten . In dieserwurzelt auch das neue Erkenntn isverfahren Herders ,

4 das

er Goethe mitteilt : die Identificirung des Ich mit der Aussenwelt,

‘

di e Synthese von Welt und Geist,

’fiir die er anstatt

‘ denken ’und

‘

erkennen ’die von der Mys tik gepragten Aus

drii cke‘ geniessen ’

,

‘fiihlen

’und

‘schmecken ’ gebraucht .

Wie vertraut Herder mit der Vorstellungswelt und Spracheder Mystik, der Alchemie

,des N euplatonismus

, etc. war ,zeigen zahlreiche Stellen ,

die Jacoby in seinem Buche zu

anderen Zwecken beibringt . Ganz aus dem Geiste der Mystik stammt schliesslich was Jacoby di e SelbstvergottungHerders nennt . Es ist die Henosis des N euplatonismus

,die

,

aus ahnlichen seelischen Voraussetzungen geboren,bei den

Mystikern aller Zeiten widerkehrt .

Ist es nicht schwer zu verstehen wie sich bei gleicher seelischen Grundstimmung, bei gleicher geistigen Befruchtung

‘ Vergl. Goethe-Jahrbueh XXV , 1 60 if .

344 Goebel

und innerster Erfahrung ahnliche Gefiihle 11nd Gedanken inbeiden Geistern entwickeln konnten , so zeigt sich doch auchein bedeutender Unters chied in der Art wie das aus mystischtheosophischer Anschauung Gewonnene oder Gewachsene beibeiden zum Ausdruck kommt . Wahrend es bei Herder zumSchliissel wird zur tiefsten lind umfassends ten Erkenntnisder Welt

,der Kunst und der Ges chichte, drangt und formt

es sich in Goethes schiipferischem Dichtergeist zu lebendigenGestalten . Gewiss , auch in Herders Gedichten weben in Halbdunkel Geister aus der Welt der Magic

,aber sie ers cheinen

ihm nur in der Ferne, in Traumen oder n'

achtlichen Visionen ,

und seine geringere Dichterkraft hat es nicht vermocht sie zu

zwingen ,das s s ie s ich ihm Viillig enthiillen und ihre

Geheimnisse ofienbaren .

Und doch glaube ich , das s Herder der Faustgestalt Goetheswesentliche Ziige gegeben hat. An dem geistesmachtigenFreunde ist dem jungen Dichter wol zuerst die innige Verwandtschaft zwischen Magus und Genie aufgeblitzt und zumklaren Bewuss tsein geworden ,

was sr bisher nur dunkel geahnt hatte. Jetzt ers t ward es ihm miiglich der Sagengestaltdes Magiers den Geist der neuen Botschaft des Mannes ein

zuhauchen ,als dessen ‘

Apostel ’ er , trotz zeitweiser Verstimmung und vorubergehender Entfremdung, bis tief in dieWei

marer Zeit hinein s ich fiihlte.

JU L IU S GOEBEL .

SPENSER ’S SHEPHERD ’S CALENDER IN RELATION

TO CONTEMPORARY AF FAIRS,by James Jackson

Higginson ,Ph . D. N ew York . The Columbia University

Press,1 91 2 . Pp. x ii 364.

After the scathing but just 1 notice of the Athenaeum (1912,p . one approaches Mr . Higginson ’

s dissertation in a

spirit of extenuation . It certainly shows praiseworthy industry in research (see p . 220

,n . and sometimes achieves

(as in the cas es of Palinode and the relation of the allegedAreopagus to the Shepherds

’Calender ) contributions to

Spenser scholarship of distinct value. The fundamental oh

j ection is one from which Columbia dissertations are almostuniformly free—the publication of argumentative matter,which should be threshed out in journals , in the semiexpository form of a book which is likely to be referred to as

expos itory . N or need this topic have been so treated : the1 Unj ust, however, in suggesting that Mr. Higginson wholly fai ls to

allow for Spenser’

s indebtedness to Marot, Mantuan, and others.


346 Lootg

is also, as in the cas es of Rosalind and Lancashi re, a vas t dealof unnecessary reprinting. Moreover

,Part II should precede

Part I, s ince its identification of the interlocutors and of the

persons of whom they speak, as well as the determination of

Spenser ’

s pos ition and interests,logically forms a bas is for

interpretation of the purport of his eclogues . This wouldhave obviated frequent dis tracting references to premisessubsequently submitted to examination .

It is perhaps too much to demand that professors shall traingraduate s tudents in fundamentals of compos ition ; yet one

does expect insistence on the use of superior rather than inferior texts . Mr . Higginson quotes“ throughout from the Globeedition or from Herford ’

s,neglecting both Dodge ’

s carefultext and the edition of E . de Selincourt, which stands in a

clas s by itself as the most s cholarly. One expects also ac

curacy of observation . But Mr . Higginson ’s argument re

peatedly depends on the s tatement (pp . 43,1 88 ) that In

Spenser ’s ecclesias tical eclogues a shepherd who has a flock

is meant to represent a clergyman .

”Unhappily we read

(July, 145 -7 )“But nothing such thilk shephearde was ,Whom Ida, hyll dyd beare,That left hys fiocke

,to fetche a lasse

Priest of Venus Paris may have been ,but no clergyman .

Simi larly,5 Mr . Higginson is un decided (p . 1 78 ) whether

Cuddie in October is or is not the same person as in the othereclogues . He overlooks E . K .

’

s gloss (October, 1. whichsays : “

In the eyght Aeglogue the same person was broughtin .

”At another point (p . 1 29 ) he misunderstands Grosart

’s

theory of Lowder = Lloyd . Grosart—not absurd in this instance—realizes that Spenser is apologizing for Lowder as for one

who had done wrong merely because he had been deceitfullymis informed . Again ,

in rehandl ing the identification of Rosa

lind,where he shows unimpeachably (pp . 21 8-221 ) that an

entry in Lord North ’s book of household charges does not

‘ Compare with p. 1 25 the September eclogue, 1. 1 44. Again, the

line July 22 should not be read dogges (see p. In the 1 5 79 quartothe text and E . K . alike have dogge.

l‘Among minor points : (1 ) the dedi catory sonnets were afli x ed , not

prefix ed, to the F aerie Queene (p. 244, l. (2 ) A s to Virgil’s first

eclogue (p. 296 , n. 38 ) he should consult Renaissance interpretations,not those of modern scholiasts ; (3) I did not

“follow”J . W. Hales

’

hint (p. but discovered it a year after completing my argument ;(4 ) Spenser did not depart from L ondon on August 1 2, 1 5 80 (p.

but arrived with his patron in Dublin on that day.


prove that Thomas North was in 1 5 789 a widower,6 he doesnot observe that the con clusion remains unaffected . At bestit was a surmise : Mr . Higginson in no way precludes thepossibility that the surmise was correct . He is incomprehen

s ible in urging (p . 226, n . 70) that the theory under discussion

“ depends upon the passionate love of the poet forhis lady. If so

,the author at leas t was unaware of it, and

meant to indicate that self-interest dictated the poet ’s ad

dresses .

Turning to an examination of Mr . Higginson ’s contentions ,

one finds his chief theses to be that (1 ) Spenser (p. 39 )“was

an ardent , thorough going Puritan ”and

“the February, May ,

July, and September eclogues reflect a spiritof opposition to the policy of Elizabeth and Burghley ;

”(2 )

“ Spenser ’

s association with L eicester and Sidney was shortlived ”

(p . was lost because of his satire in Mother

Hubberds Tale, and was not the source of his appointment assecretary to Lord Grey. In cidentally Mr . Higginson presentss cholia on the bearing of the eclogues and identifications of thepersonages involved .

A review dealing with each point would manifestly become insupportable. In general , however, regarding the con

tention that Spenser was a Puritan , we have to note that theheadmaster of Spenser ’

s college—and examiner at the Mer

chant Taylors School— throughout his course sufficiently approved of Spenser to choose him as his secretary ; that thisheadmaster, admittedly high church (pp. 130, was madeBishop of Rochester, therefore court bishop—a place “

alwaysoccupied during Elizabeth ’

s~reign by Anglo-Catholic High

Churchmen ”(p . 130) that this headmaster had been chaplain

of Grindal,whom Elizabeth and Burleigh thought safe enough

to appoint Archbishop of Canterbury ; and, finally ,that Spen

ser praises both these men in these very eclogues , - praisesthem as pastors , and cites their Views as sound . Apart fromthis , his alleged opposition to the Queen is hardly borne out

by the ostentatious and self-interested praise of her in a songin the April eclogue. Again ,

his alleged Puritan ism and allegedOpposition to Burleigh are hardly cons istent

,since Burleigh

appointed as his private chaplain and tutor of his son WalterTravers , who was , with Cartwright , a chief leader of the Puritan movement . F ew

,judging by temperament

,would pro

nounce Spenser— lover of pagean ts—a Puritan,and Burleigh

Spenser’s possible rustic use of widow widower is not invalidated by

its non-appearance in church registers, when E . D . D . and Ox f. E . D .

show its existence before 1 5 79 and its subsequent wide use .

348 Long

—s corner of the mus es—not. Harvey, too, Spenser’s intimate

friend, by his correspondence with Young shows himself inclose affiliation with this high churchman .

That Spenser while secretary to Ro chester—as he was in

1 5 78—should have written a covert satire on the Anglicanclergy is inherently implausible. That the eclogues underdis cus s ion were then written is clear from frequen t allus ionsin them to Kent . Nor can the year be in doubt for Spenser,alluding 7 to Grindal

’s confinement (July, e. describes

him as long ypent.

”Grindal

’s punishment dated from June

1 5 77 . Under such circumstances the satire against Catholicsto which E . K. repeatedly draws attention is natural

, and

the more so in that Grindal ’

s chief services had been agains tCatholics in the north .

F or any other course it is difficult to supply Spenser with a

motive. He was not a churchman ; his environment and the

two eclogues on religion in his source, the school book Man

tuan , sufficiently account for his inclusion of this element inthe Calender . So far as we know,

Mr . Higginson rightly con

tends , he had not come under the influence of L eicester . Nor

is it easy to see what effect he could have hoped for . With hispraise of the Queen and her high churchmen

,with his com

mentator ’

s directing attention to the Catholics , (see pp . 45,

46,72

,1 1 2 ) Spenser

’

s hits could not have told . When Spenserchooses to direct a shaft, as at Burleigh in The Ruines of Timeand the F aerie Queene (IV ,

Prologue) , his aim is palpable, unmi stakable ; and tradition here assigns a plausible reasonthat Burleigh as Lord Treasurer, had withheld and diminished Spenser s pens ion . But any antagonism preceding Spenser ’

s complimentary sonnet to him in 1 5 89-90 is to be assumedonly from a conjectural interpretation of Mother Hubberds

Tale,published in 1 5 91

,and therefore perhaps made over

in those parts which may be read as an attack on Burleigh .

8

In the Calender no one before Mr . Higginson—s o far as we

have record— detected such satire.

What sort of evidence, then , does Mr . Higginson advance ?He says regarding his theory of the February eclogue (p . 70)“It is not susceptible of absolute proof regarding the May

eclogue (p . 99 )“That it satisfies the contents of the fable

and that no lack of motive for the satire existed is all that maybe safely claimed ;

” regarding the July eclogue—but here7 The allusion is not a bas is to the poem, but is prompted by Man

tuan’s allusion to Pollux in his eighth eclogue, as was the allusion to

Paris by Mantuan, -8 .

8 See also“The Date of Spenser

’s Earlier Hymns Eng . S tud , Jan.

1 9 14.


35 0 Long

to Piers in both spelling and sound . He disregards (p. 1 85 )Dr. John Piers

,the immediate predecessor of Young as

Bishop of Rochester. Yet this cleric ’s known learning, liber

ality,and personal rectitude—conjoined with his work in

1 5 73 in abolishi ng popish practices in Salisbury—make himentirely suitable as a foil for Palinode. Piers is

,by the way ,

unl ike Preston , the keeper of a flock (July, 17The book closes—apart from an appendix on Mr . Greenlaw ’

s theory, which I leave to him—with a discus sion of

Spenser ’s passing from service under Leicester to a secretary

ship under Grey . This again is partly vitiated (pp . 320,330) by the author ’

s ignorance that Harvey intends Rochesterin speaking 9 May , 1 5 80, of

“a goodly Kentishe Garden of

your old Lords .

” Since this former lord must have been the“ Southern Shepherd”—my Lord Bishop of Rochester—the

allus ion proves nothing as to Spenser ’

s service with Leicester.Otherwise, the account

,though not established as proved

,is

at least as plaus ible as any hitherto presented.

PERCY W. LONG.

Haw ard University .

THE LEGEND OF LONGINUS IN ECCLESIASTICALTRADITION AND IN ENGLISH LITERATURE ,

AND ITS CONNECTION WITH THE GRAIL, by RoseJ. Peebles . Bryn Mawr, 1 91 1 . vi 221 pp. (Bryn Mawr

College Monographs , Vol. IX . )

The passage in the account of the crucifix ion in Matthew(XXVII, “

Centurio autem, et qui cum eo emnt, custo

chientes Jesum,vise terme motu et his quae fiebant, timuerunt

valde, dieentes : Vere filius Deel erat iste”, and the pas sage in

John (XIX ,34)

“S ed unus militam lancea latus Domiml per

foravit et con tinue ex im’

t sanguis et aqua,” gave rise to awide

spread legend in the Middle Ages . In the Aeta Pilati (fifthcentury ) both the soldier and the centurion are given the

name Longinus . In the Martyrology of S t. Jerome of the sameor the following century , the entry occurs under the

fifteenth of March : In Cappadocia S . Longim'

Martyris . In

the eighth and n inth century martyrologies , all these variousscraps of tradition are attributed to the soldi er. He is calledLonginus

,and is represented as converted by the miracles

of the crucifix ion,and sufl

'

ering martyrdom in Cappadocia.

By the accretion of a stock episode, the judge who condemnsthe saint is stricken blind , but is subsequently converted and


miraculously healed . The typical form of the legend in thisstage is as follows

Id . Martial: In Cappadocia passio sanctfi Longim’

martyris : de quo in libello martymh

'

ej us narratur quad ali

quando mditams sub centurione Romano, rm passwne

Domini latus ej us cum lancea in cruee aperiret, et visa

terrae motu et sigh ts quae fiebant, crediderz'

t in Christum,

poem’

tentiam agens de opem’

bus suis pristim'

s : postea

monachus faetus per triginta. et quatuor annos Christa

militavit, multas convertens ad fidem Dei ; ad ex tremum

vero martyrfizavit in Cappadocia, sub Octavio praeside,

quem, propter infidelitatem suaxm divine j udicio per

cussum corporea caee’itate, post m tyrium suum illu

minavit (pp . 1

The Bollandi sts print an elaborated vers ion of this legendof the soldier

,and also a life of the centurion . The latter also

is called Longinus , and is said to have suffered martyrdom in

Cappadocia. The account is followed by a s tory of a miraclewrought by the head of the dead sain t : a woman is cured of

blindness,and her son is brought to heaven (pp .

Already in a n inth century miniature showing Longinuspiercing the s ide of Christ

,a zig-zag line of red, drawn from

the side of the Saviour where the spear point rests , to the

eyes of Longinus,suggests that he was blind, and that his

s ight was miraculously restored . In later manuscripts Longinus is represented as kneeling to the left of the cross and

pointing to his eye, while he pierces the Saviour ’s s ide with

a spear . In literature Dr. Peebles finds no mention of the

blindness of Longinus previous to the twelfth century, at

which time a great number of passages in devotional worksand in romances attest the general currency of the tradition(pp . 44-5 5 ; cf . p .

1 It is not surprising that the centurion and the soldier were graduallyidentified . In one gospel the one , in another the other ins ignificant figure

is introduced j ust after the final moment of agony. Someonch his

idehtity mattered little—pierced the side of the Saviour. Someonee

‘

qually indifferent except in this one action—was suddenly strickenwith a sense of the great sacrilege . The passage in Matthew, cen turio

autem, et qu i cum eo eran t, cus todientes Jesum,woul d lead to the

association of the soldier in John with qui cum eo erant, cus todientes

Jeswm. A similar confusion of personages is seen in the folk balladswhich identify the woman “which was a sinner” (L uke v11 , MaryMagdalen, and Mary the sister of Martha and L azarus . Cf. G . Don

cieux, L e R omancero popu la ire (Paris, p. 1 5 4 ; C . Chabaneau,S ain te Marie-Madeleine dans la L itt. provenea le, Appendix I I I , R evue

des langues romanes , 1 887.

1 Dr. Peebles is probably right in believing that the tradition of

Longinus’blindness is based on the idea of Spiritual blindness implied

35 2 S choepperle

Dr. Peebles gives a brief accoun t of allusions to the lanceof Longinus as a relic and in the liturgy. In the latter itappears for the first time in the Mass of S t. Chrysostom (7thcentury ) . The priest , taking the sacred

O

bread in his lefthand and the holy spear in his right

,pierces the wafer five

times , and then cuts it crosswise. Finally,piercing the right

s ide with the lance, he says : E t unus militam lancea latus

ej us aper uit et statim ex im’

t sanguis et aqua3(pp . 5 6

In the final chapters of the book , Dr . Peebles examines thetheories that have been propounded in regard to the relationof the lance of Longinus to the Baldr myth and to the Graillance. She points out that Bugge

’

s theory of the origin of

the former in the Christian legend is weakened by the fact

in the act of piercing Jesus’side. H is healing is the symbolical expression of his conversion. The early appearance of this idea in art

and its late appearance in literature seem fitting when we consider itsappropriateness for plastic representation. The lack of narrative detailsin the literary accounts point to the same conclus ion.

One might fancy that the suggestion of passivi ty in accipiens wutemLbngimw milites laneeam, prefix ed to the account o f the piercing of the

side in the A cta Pilati, had some influence in the development of the

idea of Longinus’blindness . In the English translations the pas sive

interpretation of the word is apparent from such phrases as , A bbynd

Kn/yght, s o thoght tham bes t. A spere tha i gaf gud specie and and hgmthey made to pu t a spere to Jhesus syde. (MSS . cited by Dr. Peebles, pp.

88, The trait is preserved in many of the English accounts .

The story of the blindness and conversion of the j udge, already asso

ciated with the L onginus story, may have aided the deve lopment.

Dr. Peebles brings together a number of examples to show that healing by blood is not uncommon in mediaeval tradition. There is anotherpoint, which she does not mention, that is characteristic of some of the

examples cited . There is a close connection between the victim and the

agent of the wound, between the person who receives the healing and the

person who accomplishes it. In the incident cited from the S even Sages ,the king, blinded by heaven in punishment for the bad government of thesages , decapitates them and receives his sight. The authors of the

blindness are the seven sages ; it is by them that it is healed. S t. Christ0pher blinds the j udge who is causing his suffering. The j udge a

noints his eyes with the blood of the martyr and is cured. A s we haveseen above, the same story is found in the L onginus legend.

1 Dr . A . C. L . Brown , in his review of Dr . Peebles’book, Modern

Language N otes XXVIII , 21 -26 , obj ects (p. 23, n. Miss Peebleswrites as if the slender knife of the Greek Eucharistic procession were ,in the minds of mediae val writers , identical with the spear of Longinus .

Pseudb-Germanns (of uncertain date ) adds at the end of

his account of the Mass , N am vice lanceae qua e punx i t Chris twm in

cruce a L ongino es t hae c lancea .

”D r. Brown fails to observe that the

as sociation is also distinctly indicated in the Mass of S t. Chrysostom (0.

8th century ) : S acerdos afutem ipsu/m [ sanc tum panem] in dex tera

pungens cum sancta lancea dicit. Then the priest recites the passagefrom John describing the piercing of Jesus

’side.


35 4 S choepperle

of pagan ritual . The close relationship between agrarian°

mys~

teries and early Christian rites is recogn ized by investigatorsof the origins of Christianity. The Grail rites described inCrestien are

,to be sure, difierent from the twelfth century

Christian ritual , but they are not so different from the ritualof the earlier church . Dr. Peebles cons iders it possible thatthe Grail romances preserve in a corrupt form the account ofa Christian ceremonial which had been rejected by the orthodox before the time of our extant texts . She brings forwardan interes ting piece of evidence to support this sugges tion , a

letter from certain French bishops of. the s ixth century,con

demning the practices of Irish priests who celebrate the masson portable altars carried from dwelling to dwelling

, and

who are assisted by women in the administration of the Eu

charist (pp . 1 66 A similar document dating from the

ninth century, cited by B . Fehr,

5shows that three centuries

later these heterodox usages were still practised .

In spite of the many excellent qualities of the book,6one

wishes that Dr. Peebles had attempted a smaller field and

treated it with more critical detail . 7 Instead of being dismi ssed with the statement ,

“It seems not impossible that the

lives of other martyrs contributed to the growing story,”the

legends in question should have been examined.

8 The authoraccepts dates without close inquiry as to their authenticity .

’

She cites documents obviously related , without indicating therelation or emphas izing the more important document. 1 0 She

1 B eibla tt zur Anglia XXIV, p. 29 5 , Epis coporwm ad H ludovicum im

peratorem relatio 829 c 5 2 M. G . H . , L eg. sect. I, Cap. II, 42 . ProfessorF ehr al so refers the reader to his edition of Aelfric’s Pastoral letters I,1 5 , and I I I, 78, 79 . We gather from his references to this edition in

another article (Anglia, Beibla tt, XXIV, p. 35 9 , 360) that it has not

yet been published .

“Dr. Peebles’book has been favorably reviewed by B . F ehr, Beibla tt

w r Anglia XXIV, p. 291 -295 , and by others (Archie fur daa S tudiwm.

der neueren Sprachen CXXVIII, 435 -6 ; Jou rna l of Theological S tudiesXIII , Dr. A . C . L . Brown (Mod. L ang . N otes XXVII I , 2126 ) attacks an exclusively Christian interpretation of the Grail rites ,and puts forward a plea for a

‘

Celtic or fusion theory.

’Dr. Brown hadpreviously interpreted the Grail lance as of exclusively Celtic origin (P .

M. L . A . XXV, 17 Cf., e. g ., R . F awtier, La Vie de Saint S ams on, Bibliotheque de l

’

eco le

des ha/utes é tudes , No . 1 9 7, Paris , 1 91 2 .

9 B . F ehr, Anglia, B eiblatt, XXIV, p. 292-293, has made some sug

ge stions in this connection .

“E . g. p. 1 86 , notes .

1 ° E . g. pp. 32-35 , legends of various martyrs by name L onginus ; pp.

64-6 7, Mass of St. Chrysostom and Slavonic liturgy ; p. 5 7, Arculf and

Reviews What Notes 35 5

makes no effort to group texts that present s triking points incommon

,or even to call attention to such points . She might

have noted,for example, the representation ,

both in art and

in literature, of two distinct processes for the healing of

Longinus : the one in which the blood is represented as gushing from the spear point into Longinus ’

eyes ; and the otherin which it runs down the spear on his hand and in which heis healed by rubbing his eyes . The division of material intoL onginus in the Apocrypha, The Testimony of the F athers,The Martyrologies , Other Writers , L onginus in Art, Longinus

in the Liturgy, Longinus in Charms, L onginus in English

L iterature is artificial, and obscures the his torical relations .

The writer confin es her critical remarks on the development ofthe legend to the chapter The L egend of L onginus a F ricti

tz‘

ous N arrative (pp. 27-37 and limits them to a di scussionof the name of Longinus and the tradition of h is blindness .

She gives a brief account of other martyrs of the same

name. This is far from exhausting the problems raisedby the material presented . The pos ition chapter is ,moreover, unfortunate. The criticism of the tradition of the

blindness should not precede the documents which first giveevidence of the tradition ,

the illus trations discussed in the

chapter Longinus in Art. The diligent collection of a largenumber of allusions to Longinus from Middle English literature (pp . 80 142 ) is deserving of commendation .

1 1

GERTRUDE SCHOEPPERLE .

University of Illfinois .

1 1 There are numerous misprints . The quotation on page 21 4 from W.

Staerk, fiber den U rspmng der Grallegende, Leipzig, 1 903, p. 20, 11. 2,

is badly mutilated . The passage should readE s verlohnte sich, aus den Gralromanen die Zuge zusammenzu

stellen, in denen sich der mittelalterliche Abendmahlsritus wiederspiegeltIch Will hier nur auf zweierlei hinweisen : der mit dem

Gral verbundene Speer—urspriinglich wohl eine selbstandige Blutreliquie—erinnert an die

“heilige L anze”im R itus der orientalischen Kirche ,

und der in einigen Gralromanen sich findende Zug, dass der kranke“F ischer-k6nig

”aus dem Gral Blut mittels einer R iihre saugt, verrat

Bekanntschaft mit der i111 Abendland vor der Durchfiihrung der Kelchentziehung in Verfolg des Transsubstantiationsdogmas , also bis zum1 2 . Jahrhundert verbreiteten S itte, den Wein mittels der fis tula eu

charis tiea zu geniessen.

Dr. Peebles is mistaken in introducing this passage at this point. Thetuiel (Crestien 201 60, E lucida tion 275 ) by which the abundance of blood

flowing from the lance is carried away from the Grail cup is one thing.

The mere (Heinrich von dem Turlin, D in Cro‘

ne, 1 4761 which liesin the cup and through which the Grail King partakes of the blood, is

another. Dr. S taerk is alluding to the second . Dr. Brown (P . M. L . A .

XXV p. 24, cf. pp. 1 4, 1 5 ) is discus sing the first.

35 6 Adams , Jr .

THE ELIZABETHAN PLAYHOUSE AND OTHER

STUDIES , by W. J. Lawrence. J B . L ippincott Com~

pany,Philadelphia ; Shakespeare Head Press , Stratford

upon-Avon . 1 912. (8 vo, pp . x vi 265,illus )

Mr . Lawrence claims to have been the pioneer in the mod

ern scientific study of “the physical conditions and stage con

ventionalisms of the Elizabethan playhouse.

”After readily

granting this modest claim,we may add that he is at the pres

ent time one of the most expert investigators in this field, and

that a volume from him presenting his mature Opinions on

a subject so important to the s tudy of the Tudor-Stuart dramais heartily welcome.

In this volume,he has as sembled ten papers which during

the pas t decade he had published in various periodicals—the

Shakespeare-Jahrbuch, Englische S tudien,Anglia, The Get»

tleman ’s Magazine, etc. Yet he has taken care to revise, to

amplify,and even in places to rewrite these papers , in order “

to keep them abreas t with the notable progress recently madein this subject ; and in addition ,

he has enriched the volumeby the insertion of thirteen full-page illus trations , which , hestates ,

“ have been chosen as much for their rarity as theirappositeness .

The first paper, entitled The Evolution and Influence of

the Elizabethan Playhouse, is, on the whole, the best general

discuss ion of the subject that we have. The author acceptswith too much faith , perhaps , the conjectures of ProfessorWallace (The Chi ldren of the Chapel at Blackfriars ) ; andvirtually all his conclusions about the influence of the Blackfriars theatre on the evolution of the playhouse must be modified in view of the recent discoveries regarding the history of

that building . F or this , of course, Mr . Lawrence is in

no way to blame. Luckily,before his book was off the press

he was able to read in The Daily Chronicle MonsieurF euillerat

’

s brief announcemen t of those discoveries,and to

add a supplementary paper,“N ew Facts About the Black

friars , ” in which he corrects his earlier statements and re

writes the history of the private playhouses ; and this sup

plementary paper is one of the most valuable in the book.

Other papers elaborate special topics connected with the

playhouse—“The Situation of the Lords ’

Room,

” “Title and

Locality Boards,

” “Mus ic and Song in the E lizabethanTheatre”

; still other papers take up separate themes—“The

Mounting of Carolan Masques ,” “

Early French Players inEngland ,

” “ Did Thomas Shadwell Write an Opera on The


5 8 Adams , Jr .

in her heavens .

—C’rete Wonders F oretold . The shadow

,

it would seem,sloped from the

“ heavens ” rather than fromthe tiring-hous e.

P . 9 . Of the“ turret over the stage (which I would identi

fy with the“ heavens Mr . Lawrence says : “

Through itsapertures s tage ordnance were let off, a custom that led to

the destructive fire at Shakespeare ’s Globe.

”The destructive

fire here referred to is not in itself sufficient to prove thiss tatement . In the various accounts of that catas trophe no

indication is made of the location of the cannon ; but di s tinctreference is made to a strong wind that was blowing

,which

might account for the landing of the“stoppage”

in the

thatched roof. I can recall no stage-direction that reads“Ordnance shot ofi above,

” whereas the direction Ordnancewithin ”

is not un common .

P . 9 . N ot all, if any , of the rooms and galleries were provided with seats , although in most parts stools and cushionscould be procured by paying extra. Surely there are abundant references to seats and benches in the galleries of the

penny-bench theatres .

”See the Fortune contract .

P . 1 1 .

“An extra charge [ for admission to the galleries ]

was subsequently enforced, according to the locality, the feebeing collected during the performance by The

last clause appears doubtful . Would it not be simpler,and

easier (not to say surer ) , to collect the extra fee at the timeof entrance to the gallery ? Some proof of Mr . Lawrence ’

s

statement is needed .

P . 1 3.

“F or the benefit of those who, through coming

early, arrived dinnerless , eatables,and drinkables

,including

fruits , nuts and bottled beer, were vended in the theatre.

”

Undue emphas is is put on those who arrived dinnerless .

Such persons mus t have been comparatively few 1n number,and the

“eatables and drinkables ” were primarily intended

for thoseFellows that at ordinaries dare eat

Their 1 8 d . thrice out before they riseAnd yet go hungry to a play.

1

P . 14. There was seldom any absolute certainty in the

Banks ide houses as to what would be performed .

”(Cf. also

p . Some modification of this as sertion is surely needed ,or some conclus ive proof . It is hardly in keeping with whatwe know of the digni ty of the actors , or with their cus tom of.

posting bills throughout the cityThen hence, lewd nags

,away

Go read each post , view what is played to-day .

1 The S cornful Lady IV . 2 .


Note also the following custom referred to by HumphreyMoseley in his poem “

The Stationer,”prefix ed to the First

Folio of Beaumont and FletcherAs after th ’

Epi logue there comes some one

To tell the Spectators what shall next be shown .

The fact that a play was occasionally changed at the demandof an unruly audience led Mr . Lawrence, I suspect , intomaking too sweeping an assertion .

The statement that the Theatre and the Curtain were usednot only for plays but also for bull and bear baiting, and thattheir stages , as a result , were removable, is Open to gravedoubt. Upon this assumption rests the theory that the obliquedisposition of the s tage doors was a contribution to the stagearrangement from the private playhouse of Blackfriars . The

hypothes is is plausible, yet fails to take into consideration thefact that in the public playhouses the stage was constructed ofwood

,and hence could be easily modified. It is hard to say

when the oblique doors came into use ; and,moreover

,the

first Blackfriars seems merely to have continued the courtusage of multiple setting .

The second paper deals with The Situation of the Lords ’

Room.

”The theory that these rooms were over the stage held

sway, I believe, beforeMr . Lawrence wrote. The most originalpart of his essay is the suggestion that at some time before1 609 these rooms were degraded into a shameful resort forcourtesans : “ Dark and ill-placed, they could no longer havebeen let to spectators

,but the cupidity of the players induced

them to turn the deserted rooms into a licentious rendezvousfor the lower middle classes A mart for illicitlove and bought kisses . This

‘

as tonishing theory , not in keeping with what we know of the better actors of the time— for

example, Shakespeare, Heminge, or Heywood, —is based solelyon the well-known passage in Dekker ’

s The Gull’s Hornboohe :

“I meane not into the Lords roome (which is now but the

Stages Suburbs ) No, those boxes , by the iniquity of custome,conspiracy of waiting women and Gentlemen-Ushers , that

there sweat together, and the covetousnes of Sharers , are

contemptibly thrust into the reare, and much new Satten is

there dambd, by being smothred to death in darknesse.

”

Accordingly, the gull is advised not to go near the Lords ’

Room.

Now, every student of Elizabethan literature knows that the

term “suburbs ”

was often applied to that section of Londonwhich contained the houses of ill-fame. But this usage of the

word was secondary , and it is not to be supposed that in the

360 Adams , Jr .

passage quoted Dekker neces sarily meant to imply that theLords ’

Rooms were “suburbs ”

in that odious sense. The

rest of the pas sage fails to carry out such an idea. Exactlywhat is meant, to be sure

,is not clear ; but we may infer that

the Lords ’

Rooms at the time Dekker wrote had ceased to behighly fashionable, and had been turned over to the servants offashionable people waiting women and Gentlemen Ush

the natural successors . Furthermore, we may inferthat the rooms were much over crowded, and that because of

their location they gave poor opportunities for the gallant todisplay his gorgeous apparel . Dekker, in his satirical vein ,

would hardly have been so earnest in urging the gull not toenter the Lords ’

Room, if it enjoyed the reputation that Mr .

Lawrence wants to give it.

Mr . Lawrence takes Professor Schelling to task for s tumbling in his interpretation of the phrase “

advance yourselfup to the Throne of the Stage, and shows that Dekker refersto the stage as a whole (the throne of the playhouse) , not toan actual pro perty throne on the stage. It may be proper,therefore

,to point out that Mr . Lawrence himself stumbles in

this passage. He says , by way of interpretation :“He [the

gull ] has come in by the tiring-house door, having duly paidthe preliminary price of admission ; more remains to be disbursed for a stool . The same doorway leads to the Lords ’

room .

”N ow

,to my mind , the passage shows clearly that the

gul l entered by the regular door of admission ,paid his penny

to the gatherer who stood there with the“box

, and then“advan ced”

through the playhouse “up to the stage. Ob

serve the pas sage itself “Whether therefore the gatherers of

the publique or private Playhouse stand to receive the afternoones rent , let our gallant , (having paid it) presently ad

vance himself up to the Throne of the Stage.

”It is not likely

that regular gatherers stood at the tiring-house entrance toaccommodate the few who entered there. Bes ides , having entered the tiring-room, the gallant would be on the stage at

once, and could not well “advance himself up to the throne of

the s tage.

”

On pages 95 -6, Mr . Lawrence says of the tiring-room : Its

identity with the ‘

upper stage ’seems well as sured .

”And

he proceeds to give what he is pleas ed to call “ proof of theposition of the tiring-room .

”The proof

,however, shows

nothing of the kind , for there is no reason why the hangingsthrough which the half-dres sed players peeped “

to see how the

house did fill” were not on the lower stage. Nor is this theory

in full harmony with the s tatement (p . 7 ) At many of the


362 Ramsay

omiss ion of a good deal of padding . At least a‘

third of the

n inety-three pages are occupied by perfectly useless summaries of the plots of the s tories treated and by extracts takenrather at random from contemporary book-reviews . F or a

magazine article, however, it must be added, there would beneeded not only compression but a radical change of style,for the method of composition is dry and mechanical in the

extreme, quite unrelieved by critical insight or originality,and with but a single flas h of humor, perhaps unmeant : inanswer to the charge that the Kailyard novelists have maligned their countrymen by bringing so much whisky intotheir s tories , Dr . Loose protests : “

Auch der Wh isky spieltin den Werken der Kailyarders nur eine untergeordneteRolle, wie jeder L eser zugeben muss . Er nimmt nur den

Platz ein ,den der Schnaps in jedem wohlgeordneten Haus

halt der ni ederen LandbevolkerungHowever disappointing in execution

,the study which Dr .

Loose has made of the Kailyard School deal s with a subjectby no means lacking in interest. Until recent times the literary s chool has been a phenomenon far more familiar inFrance and even in Germany than in England . The mostconspicuous example of it in English literature is , of course,the so-called Lake School , the term being applied to a group ofwriters who had hardly any s ingle quality in common . But

at present the tendency to cohere into groups seems di stinctlyon the increas e. The group of Scottish writers for whom W.

E . Henley in 1 895 first suggested the name “ KailyardSchool ” is by no means the only genuine school that has arisenduring the las t half-century

,nor is it the most important.

But it is one in which the common impulse and the commoncharacteristics are especially manifest and well marked . It

includes four or five writers whose work deserves to be remembered

,and it produced about a dozen volumes of good short

stories and three or four fairly good novels , all of whichappeared between 1 888

,when Barrie initiated the movement

with his Auld H oht Idylls , and 1 900, when Barrie turnedto the drama and the others ceas ed to produce significant

work .

As his five chief representatives of the s chool , Dr . Loose

selects Barrie, its founder and leader, Ian Maclaren ”, Crock

ett,“Gabriel Seboun ”

, and Anne S . Swan .

”There can be

no quarrel with the choice of the first three ; but the work of“Gabriel Setoun ”

(Thomas N icoll Hepburn ) is distinctly of

minor importance, and that of“Anne S . Swan ”

(Mrs . Bur

nett Smith ) is certainly of no importan ce at all from the pointof view of literature. In view of the inclus ion of these it

Reviews an d Notes 363

seems strange that David Storran Meldrum should have beenentirely omitted, even from the lis t of lesser writers given on

page 1 3. Meldrum ’s novels of Fifeshire are pronounced by

one well-known critic 1 “to come nearer to Galt ’

s ideal , as set

forth in his Annals, than any of the works of his other successors , except the very bes t of Mrs . Oliphant ’

s .

”Galt was ,

as Dr. Loose declares in a later section , the true father of theKailyard School , and Meldrum certainly deserves at leas t mention among his literary descendants . Besides his five Kailyarders

,Dr. Loose also discusses Douglas Brown ,

whose House

with the Green Shutters (1 901 ) he quite rightly clas ses apart ,for it was written in intentional reaction against the s chool ofBarrie and in the spirit of the English naturalis ts . Had

Browne lived to follow up hi s fine first effort he might havefounded a rival and perhaps truer school ; as it was , the

Kailyard never recovered from his brilliant attack .

The most satisfactory part of Dr. Loose ’s treatise is the

section in which he analyzes the points of kinship in the bodyof work that he has selected. He has no difficulty in showing aremarkable ag reement , without mere imitation of each other ,in subject-matter, in spirit

,in form and s tyle

,and especially

in selection of scene and period . All themembers of the s choolplace their stories in Lowland Scotland, in the

“ landward”

rather than the “ burghal ” portion, and among the conditions

of a former generation rather than at the present day . Theydo their bes t work in the distinctively modern short-storyform

,not infrequently reducing it to a mere sketch

,and they

embroider upon it much the same brand of Scotch dialect ,Scotch humor

, and Scotch pathos . But their most characteristic mark is found in the way in which they all combine withthe attempt at realistic portraiture of manners an idealizingspirit, which their enemies are prone to call sentimentality

,

and which leads them to ignore whatever is repellent or un

pleasant . It is this that sets them sharply apart from the

contemporary English school of Hardy,Phillpotts

,and Quil

\ler-Couch and from such isolated Scotch work as The House

with the Green Shutters .

It is less easy to distinguish the work of the school fromthat of its Scotch predecessors . In his section on the relations of the Kailyarders to the older Scotch novelists Dr . Loose

begins with Scott , who was the first to use Scotch peas antry infiction in the Antiquary and TheHeart ofMidlothian . But he

maintains that it was Scott ’s contemporary Galt who created

1 William Wallace,“The L imits of Scottish Patriotism,

”F ortnightly,

vol. 88 pp. 610-20. This striking article on writers of the

school has escaped Dr. L oose’s bibliography.

364 Rams ay

the novel of Scotch humble life, and traces the succession fromGalt to Barrie through Moir, Miss Ferrier , Mrs . Oliphant

,and

George Macdonald . The omiss ion of Stevenson ’

s name is

j ustified by the statement that his work is national,that of

the Kailyarders parochial ; but William Black , whose glowing tales of the North of Scotland did much to create the

public that later welcomed the Kailyarders , might well havebeen added to his list at this point . In studying the relationsof the Kailyard School to these earlier writers , Dr. Loose has

analyzed so copious ly the elements of their art which theytook over that the reader begins to wonder what new thingthey brought with them. This we are nowhere told . As a

matter of fact,it is rather difficul t to put one

’s finger on any

single new feature in Kailyard fiction,although it is imposs i

ble to es cape the conviction that it did constitute to some ex

ten t a new type. Perhaps the originality lay in a shifting ofthe balan ce of fictional elements , by which atmosphere or localcolor became foremost for the first time in Scotch fiction , the

sole purpose and the chief attraction of the s tory. A minor innovation lay also in the introduction of the short story intothe fiction of Scotch humble life.

The shortest and least satisfactory section of the treatiseis that devoted to the circums tances favoring the rise of the

s chool . Dr . Loose quite rightly regards the Kailyard Schoolas merely a part of the greater movement of the last halfcentury which has been named in Germany the

“ Heimatkunst . But he makes the supris ing statement that the “Hei

matkunst movement is confined to German ic countries(among which he includes England and Scotland ) becauseonly in Germanic countries are the factors needed to produceit present. These necessary factors are

, to quote his words ,“in ers ter L inie eine tiefe Naturliebe, und daraus hervorgehend eine wahre F riimmigkeit, innige L iebe zur engerenHeimat, und das Gefiihl der engsten Zusammengehiirigheit

untereinander .

” Surely it is only the writer ’s own

“ innigeL iebe zur engeren Heimat”

that leads him to suppose thatthese qualities are confined to his own race. In France, totake only the most conspicuous omi ssion , the

“Regionaliste”

movement, as sociated with the names of Erckmann -Chatrian ,

Theuriet, Le Braz,Bazin

,and others from every French

province and almost every department, is closely parallel inits history and its ideals with contemporary “ Heimatkuns t ”

schools in Germany, England, and Scotland . Especially instructive for the English and Scotch movements - is it to note

how the seeds of French “Regionalisme

” were planted in


SEJANUS, by Ben Jonson , edited by W. D. Briggs . Boston,

D . 0. Heath and Company,1 91 1 .

The edi tion of S ejawus by Prof . Briggs in the BellesL ettres Series presents to us another of Jonson ’

s plays withmodern editing . The significance of Jonson ’

s work for boththe Renaissance and the classical period renders every new

and careful edition of any of his plays very welcome, and

Prof. Briggs ’

s S ej axnus is an accomplishment of broad scope,showing earnes t workmanship .

The text is based on the Folio of 1 61 6,with variant read

ings from the Quarto and from modern editors . Prof.Briggs ’

s variations from the Folio in such matters as the use

of certain letters , pun ctuation , and some points of form pre

vent the text from being so nearly a reprint as modern edi

tions of Elizabethan works often are,but these changes do

not in general affect the value of the edition even for the

scholar . The annotation of the play is a matter of greaterinterest . Jonson himself has left us a mass of references topassages from historian s and satirists which he used in building a play that was to represent with entire truth not onlythe salient events of Sejanus ’

s career but also the social conditions of a corrupt Rome, with the ambition and the criminalindulgence of those in power, and the servility of their parasites and of the masses in general . To trace and verify thesereferences and to publish in notes all the important passagesamong them was the task needed to furn ish modern studentsmaterial for an unders tanding of Jonson

’s workmanship . It

is here that Prof . Briggs ’s s cholarship reveals itself at the best.

Not only has he followed up Jonson’s own source notes but

he has added a number which indicate still more fully the

range of our dramatist ’s clas sical lore. It is now possible, with

out the extremely laborious task of tracing Jonson ’s references ,

to judge of his learn ing as shown in S ej cmus , his devotion to theclass ics , his art and literary methods , his didactic purpose andserious outlook— in short , his place in the late Renaissance.

Probably the clas sical passages reflected in the play have not

all been found yet. Indeed , he would be a hardy editor whocould hope to exhaus t the class ical borrowings of Jonson , evenwi th the author ’

s help . But the poss ibility of future discoveries does not make Prof . Briggs ’

s annotation less admirable.

If some objections might be mentioned , they are minor ones .

Thus I feel that the note on Hugh Holland, who wrote complimentary verses on S ej cmus, might be more significantif attention were called to the fact that Jonson wrote similarverses for Holland ’

s Paneharts in 1 603. But there is littleOpportunity to cavil at this part of the work .


The introduction dealing with Jonson as a writer of tragedyshows Prof. Briggs ’

s intimate acquaintance with Jonson ’s

ideals and his art. I must confess to some disappointment ,however, in the general point of View chosen ,

that of Jonson

’s failure to measure up to our present ideals of great

tragedy. S ej anus and Catiline, we must admit , are interesting to this generation chiefly as documents for the student ofliterary history. Why this is true, Prof . Briggs has adequately explained, but he has not accounted sufficiently , it seems tome

,for the fact that Jonson ’

s tragedies were read with ap

preciation by the scholarly and the cultured for two centuries .

To my mind , for the present day student the key to an understanding of Jonson

’

s art lies in the historical point of View.

Jonson’s tragedy must be approached primarily from the basis

of ideals of tragedy in his day . To measure him by the rod of

modern critical ideals seems beside the mark , so different werehis aims . The scrupulous didacticism of his work Prof. Briggshas stressed as express ing a fundamental tenet :of Elizabethancriticism. Further

, seventeenth century humanists and classicists demanded rationality in literature, condemned imaginative and impressional art—which Jonson probably essayed inThe Spanish Tragedy but would not father , as Prof. Briggssuggests . That Jonson , even toward the close of his career ,was capable of a delicately romantic and highly imaginativeart The Sad Shepherd proves beyond doubt . But he couldhardly have made S ej cmus less philosophical , less scientific,and retained his place as leader among literary men who insisted on the didactic and the rational . Moreover, with thehumani sts ’ insistence on decorum ,

even if Jonson had not

developed his own rigid idea of humours,there would have

been no place in the work of so genuine a humanist for theplay of complex individuality ,

which we consider essential incharacter portrayal and which Prof . Briggs demands of

Jonson . Jonson bent the whole weight of his learning and

his genius toward building up a type of drama that was closeakin to satire. His early comedi es he called “ comical satires ”

,

but the finest specimens of his satirical dramas are his tragedi es and Volpone, a comedy which , as Prof. Briggs points out,is essentially like Sej afnus . It is as specimens of satiric poetryin which philosophy and reason are deliberately exalted aboveimagination and emotion that Jonson ’

s plays are most sign ificant for the later development of English literature. Prof.Briggs of course recognizes al l of this . In fact

,he points out

that Renaissance tragedy shared the faults of Jonson ’s trage

dy and that these faults rested on critical principles of the

368 Parsons

day . I do not mean to imply,indeed , that Prof. Briggs ’

s

treatment is entirely inconsis tent with the historical treatment. My regret is merely that the his torical point of viewhas been obscured .

C. R . BASKERVIL L .

Uwiversity of Chicago.

THE COMMEDIA DELL’ARTE

,A STUDY IN ITALIAN

POPULAR COMEDY, BY WINIF RED SMITH .

STUDIES IN ENGLISH AND COMPARATIVE LIT

ERATURE . NEW YORK . THE COLUMBIA UNI

VERSITY PRESS , 1 912 IN 8°X V—290 PAGES .

The book is a timely one, since the ‘Commedia dell ’

Arte’

has thus far had s cant attention from English s cholars,in

spite of its connection with English drama. The greater partof the material is not new,

having been drawn from the various Italian and French works

,which treat the subject in more

detail . However, the chapter devoted to the‘Commedia

dell’Arte

’influence in England, is an original contribution in

the main , and together with an appendix of English plays re

vealing Italian motifs,indicates fresh and thorough investiga

tion on the writer ’s part. No little ski ll is shown in choos

ing and presenting the striking aspects of the‘ Commedia

dell’Arte

’

,so that a distinct impression of the genre may be

gained even by the leas t initiated . The treatment of the various character-types , the inclus ion of effective extracts and of

summaries of the most importan t scenarios , all make for an

interesting exposition of the subject . It is perhaps to be

regretted that some one of the more important scenarios wasnot included entire

,so that the reader might realize fully

the slender bas is upon which the actors worked . It is thesevery illuminating chapters , however, which give the book itssomewhat too popular character, although that character issugges ted throughout by the style, which should perhaps bemore impersonal or more colourless , for so techn ical a subjectThe Table of Contents by no means does justice to the

amount of material in the book, yet it would be almos t impos sible to give adequate clues , because in almost any one

chapter, the mass of detail is too heterogeneous to be sub

ordinated clearly to the subject in hand . The heaping-upof comparatively extraneous information frequently destroysthe effectiveness of the argument involved , and confuses themain line of. thought , which is sufficiently interesting in i tselfto be allowed clear passage.


370 Parsons

un familiar field, it is distinctly valuable and will be found tobe a convenient epitome of necessary information for untech

nical study of the field it covers .

A few statemen ts needing guarantee of further detail andsome, clearly incorrect , should be noted(1 ) p . 9

“ A Spanish desperado in the oldest known scenario(2 ) p. 10

“ Some of Zann i ’s names point back to a remote antiquity

3) p . 1 1 Such Pulcinelli are mentioned as long ago as 1363(4 ) p . 1 5 The Commedia, at leas t in its beginnings , an

amusement for men only”

( 5 ) pp . 1 20,1 25

,No references or names are given for plays

described .

(6 ) p . 219,note—“

Campardon gives 1 5 95 as the earliest datefor the establishment of the Foires , but theatrical performances did not begin there till 1 660.

The incorrect dates are

( 1 ) p . 61— 1 5 65 for 1 5 66—No authority givenSee Scherillo,

‘La Commedia dell ’

Arte’Chap . VI

, p . 140

(2 ) p . 68, footnote—The date oi. Ariosto’s

“ Cassaria is

cited as 1488 (no authority given )See Commedi e de D.Ariosto

,Milano, Ed . Gonzogno 1 883

—Prefazione (Olindo Guerrini ) p . 8—1 497 .

c/ Prologue of‘Cassaria ’

in verse.

(3) p . 1 1 1,A play in which Vittoria figures as an actress ,

dated before 1 5 78 becaus e Vittoria left the Company of

the Gelos i at that time.

No authority stated .

See D’Ancona, Origini del Teatro II p . 467 where an orig

inal document is cited to show that Vittoria was a memberof the Company as late as 1 5 8 5 , but not in 1 5 93.

p . 1 1 6,footnote. Scenery in Rome as early as 1 5 18 See

Gardner, King of Court Poets , p . 329,Vasari VIII

,227 ,

where it is claimed that it was used there before 1 5 14.

( 5 ) p . 1 5 1 , Borromeo’s modifying the prohibition of plays

,

1 5 80 for 1 5 83.

N o authority stated , but in discuss ing the question in

an other place, Miss Smith quotes Scherillo—(p . 62 note)See Scherillo, Commedia dell

’Arte Chap . VI, p . 1 5 6.

(6 ) Ou page 145 , a quotation of six lines from N ichols,Prog

resses etc. of Queen Elizabeth , I, 304, shows several inaccuracies in trans cription .

V . L . PARSONS .Bryn Mawr College.

Notes 371

NOTES

We have received the third enlarged edition of Max F orster’s usefulpamphlet, Beowulf-Materialien.

One should not need a monograph to prove that Pater influencedOscar Wilde . We have Wilde’

s word for it. To accept his testimony and

obvious evidences of influence does not of course excuse us from the

task of interpretation. Sherard in his L ife of Wilde says : —“It pleased

him to say that some single book which had come into his hands whenhe was a young man, had thus revolutionized his entire mentality ; and

he attributed to the influence of this book all the things that seemed to

have been prompted in him by what was not common sense.

” If thiscavalier j udgment fails to satisfy the critical, that class will perhapsalso be disappointed in Edward J Bock’

s Walter Pater’s E infiws s emf

Oscar Wi lde (Bonner Studien zur Englischen Philologie , Heft VII I ) .The study offers many parallels, which, though in some cases not withoutinterest, as a whole prove little more than was generally known beforeabout the two ae sthetes , who enj oyed a similar heritage of culture and

breathed a similar spiritual atmosphere.

Pro fessor Cook’s S ir Eglamour (Henry Holt and Company ) is an

inexpensive edition o f Professor Schleich’s text (Palaestra, N o.

The book is furnished with a nine page introduction and with a generousnumber of marginal glosses . It should be useful in and out of MiddleEnglish courses .

John Manning Booker’s A Middle English B ibliography is a chip

from a German workshop . It had“its beginning in my doctor

’s disser

tation ;”and since “

the compilation of this material ceased in the earlysummer of we may add that at the time of publication, 1 91 3, ithad not had its ending. The regret o f the author that his work is not

up-to-date will be shared by those who use it. A comparison of the

Bibliography with others, say that in Kiirting’s Grundris s , will reveal

that even for 1 907, the compilation of titles is far from adequate.Under the heading The F olk and the Wolf, for instance, we are referredonly to Matzner’

s A ltengl. Sprachpr J

Max Bellows’German Dictionary (Henry Holt and Company ) fol

lows the arrangement of John Bellows’ “F rench and English Pocket

Dictionary ;” that is, the D eu ts ch-Englisch and the English-German vo

cabularies are so distributed throughout the book that pages are dividedbetween the two or several pages of one glossary will be followed byseveral pages of the other. Moreover, the genders of nouns are distinguished by different types ; the pronunciation o f English words isoften indicated phonetically in italic type ; and there are various signsand symbols . Those who use the dictionary are

“advised to devote some

time and attention to a study of the pages inside the front coverand immediately after the Introduction, and thus grasp its peculiarfeatures? ’

After an interval of more than twenty years Professor Vietor hasbrought out his second edition of the Hamlet Parallel Texts (Marburg,1 91 3) in the Shakespeare R eprints series . In preparing this new editionhe has collated the earlier text throughout with Grigg

’s facsimiles of

the first and second quarto and with Halliwell’s F . However, sincethese facsimiles were avai lable for the first edition, the superiority ofthe second edition will be largely due to the careful comparison of itsF olio Text with that of L ee

’s facsimile of the Duke of Devonshire’

s

copy.

5 11 231mmDas Programm fii r die in der Pfingstwoche ( 1 .

—4 . Jun i 19 14) statt

findende Tagung des A llgemeinen D eutschen Neuphilologen-Verbandes istsoeben vom V orstaxide zur Versendung gelangt . E inige Anderungenbleiben vorbehalten . Der wis senschaftliche Teil cubalt eine grosse

Zahl interessanter Vortrage , die von hervorragenden Mannern des Inund Auslandes gehalten werden , und die hofientlich n icht verfehlen werden ,

zahlreiche F achgenossen zum Besuch der alten Hansestadt an der Weser

zu veranlas sen . Die S itzungen finden in den weiten Reumen desKiinstlerverein s statt. Eingeleitet wird die Tagu ng durch cine V orversammlung der Delegierten der verschiedenen n euphilolog ischen Vereine(Montag , l . Juni, nachmittags 5 U hr) . Am D ien stag (2 . Juni) vor

mittags 9 U hr wird der N euphilologentag durch den Vorsitzenden desVerbandes , Oberlehrer Dr . Gaertner (Bremen ) , eré fi net werden . Esschlieszt s ich daran die F estrede des Ehrenvors itzenden , Geh . Rat Prof.Dr. Hoops (Heidelberg ) iiber

“ B remens Anteil an der neuphilologischenF orschung

”. In fimf allgemeinen S itzungen ( 2 .

—4 . Jun i) werden folgendeVortrage gehalten werden : ( 1 ) Cloude s ley B rereton , D ivisional Inspectorof the London County Council : English Education and its problems in1 9 14 ; ( 2 ) Prof . Hen ri Lichtenberger (Paris , S orbonne) : L

’

en seign ement

de l’

allemand dan s les Unive rs ité s francaises ; (3) Prof . Dr. Deutschbein

(Halle) : S hakespeare und die Renais sance ; ( 4) Prof . Dr. 0 . Jespersen(Kopenhagen ) : D ie Energetik der S prache ; ( 5 ) Prof . D r. M. F é rster

(Leipzig) : P rinzipielles fiber die Aussprache von Eigennamen imEnglischen ; ( 6 ) Prof . Dr. F . S trohmeyer (Berlin-Wilmersdorf) : Zurstilistische n Vorbildung fur die freien A rbeiten im F ranzé s ischen ;( 7) Geh . Rat P rof . Dr . Morsbach (G6ttingen ) : U nivers itat und S chulemit besonderer Berucks ichtigun g der englischen Philologie ; (8 ) Prof .Dr. S chneegans (Bonn ) : Welches sollten die An forderungen des S taatsex amens ffir neuere S prachen s ein , und ware eine Reform des heutigen

Zustandes n icht dringend erforderlich ? (9) Oberrealschuldi rektor Dr.

Wehrmann (Bochum) : Die Ausbildung der Lehrer der neueren

S prachen ; ( 10) Geh . Hofrat Prof. Dr . Varnhagen (Erlangen ) . Oskar

Wilde und die S chule ; ( 1 1 ) P rivatdozent Dr . F riedmann (Leipzig) : Diefranz

'

os ische Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts ; ( 1 2) Oberlehrer Dr. Gaertne r

(Bremen ) : Uber die bevorstehende Neuregelung der S tellung der fremdsprachlichen A ss istenten in F rankreich ; ( 13) Prof . Dr. S pies (Greifswald) :Uber den augenblicklichen S tand der englischen S yntax forschung ;( 14) Oberlehrer Dr. Weyrauch (Elberfeld) : Der Unterricht in den neu

eren S prachen und die S prachwissenschaft ; ( 1 5 ) Oberlehre r Dr. Zeiger( F rankfurt a. M itteilungen i iber den S tand der Bestrebungen zur

Verein fachung und Vereinhe itlichung der grammatischen Bezeichnungen .

Au s serdem werden em M ittwoch ( 3. Jun i) nachmi ttags in der Aula

der ehemaligen Hauptschule zwei Vortrage ii ber Phonetik gehalten . Herr

Daniel Jones (London ) wird sprechen fiber“The Importance of Intona

tion in the Pronunciation of English and F rench und Oberlehrer W.

Doegen (Berlin ) iiber die Bedeutung der experimentellen Phonetik tii t

die Lehrer de r neueren S prachen (mit Lichtbildern und Demon strationen ) ,woran s ich einen Lehrprobe mit Sprechmaschinen an schliessen wird.

S elbstverstandlich ist auch c ine Anzahl geselliger Veranstaltungen ge

plan t, welche hofientlich dazu beitragen werden , den Teilnehmern amN euphilologentage den Aufenthalt in Bremen recht angenehm zu machen .

Am Montag ( 1 . Jun i) findet ein Begrii s sungsabend statt im grossen S aal

der Un ion ti nd arn D ienstag Abend ein F estmahl im Kiin stlerverein . P11 1

den M ittwoch (3. Juni) hat der Senat der F reien Hansestadt Bremen die

Teilnehmer zu einem Ratskellerfest geladen . A 111 Donnerstag werden die

Hafen 11 nd S chiffahrtsan lagen des Norddeutschen Lloyd in B reme rhavenbes ichtigt, woran s ich ein Es sen schliesst , dargeboten vorn No rddeutschen

Lloyd . Nach der Ankunft in B remen findet noch ein ge selliges Beisammen

sein im Parkhause statt. F ur die Te ilnehmer ist folgendes zu beachten

M itglied des Verbandes kann j eder Neuphilologe oder F reund der n eueren

S prachen werden (auch Damen ) gegen En trichtung eines jahrlichen Bei

trages von 1 M . Zur Teilnahme an der Pfingsttagung ist eine F estket te

M ) zu losen , die zum Besuch aller wiss en schaftlichen und festlichenVeranstaltungen , sow ie zum Empfang der F estschrift berechtigt . Fur

Familienangehii rige der M itglieder betragt der Preis der F estkarte 6 M .

Der Be trag ist moglichst bald an den Kassenwart, Herrn Oberleh rer F ischer ,Bremen ,

Postscheckkon to Hambu rg 6 746 , einzusenden , spatesten s bis 1 8 .

Mai . Mit Rucksicht auf den zu Pfingsten stattfindenden F remdenverkehrist dringend zu raten , s ich re chtzeitig eine Wohnung zu s ichern . Die Be

sucher des N euph ilologentages werden gebeten , s ich gleich nach der Ankunftbehufs Eintragung in die Teilnehmerlisten und zur En tgegennahme der zu

verteilenden D rucksachen u . s . w . beim Empfangsaus schuss zu melden . DasBu reau befindet s ich Pfing stmontag ( 1 . Juni) von 10 U hr friih bis

8 U hr abends irn Hauptbahnhof , an den anderen Tagen im Kiin stlerverein .

Ein besonderer Damenausschus s ist bereit, den an der Tagung teilnehmenden

Damen mit Rat beizu stehen .0


374 Jacoby

Gelehrten ,Mus ikern ,

Kunstlern durch die Jahrhuhdertebeobachten kb

'

nnen : namlich dass ihr Schafien”

nur ein

Umschafl’

en ist. Man muss die dichterische Schopferkraft

n icht mi t der Schiipfungsgeschichte aus dem N ichts in der

Bibel verwechseln .

Die Unk larheit uber die dichterische Schopferkraft

s tammt aber nicht nur aus einer Verwechslung mit der

biblis chen Geschichte, sondern auch aus einer Verwechslungzwis chen den Quellen des Dichters und seinem Bewusstsein von

den Quellen . Der Dichter weiss gewiihnl ich nicht,woher das

stammt, was er s chreibt . Es pfiegt aus seinem Unterbewus stsein hervorzutauchen wie eine wirkliche Schiipfung aus dem

N ichts . Tatsachlich aber ist es keine S chtipfung aus dem

N ichts , sondern das Unterbewusstsein ist erfiilt mit einem

Erinnerungsschatze, dessen Ursprung von dem Denker selbst

zwar vergessen ist, der aber dennoch einstmals y on ihm em

pfangen wurde. Freilich pfiegt sich innerhalb des Unter

bewusstseins der Erinnerungss chatz umzubilden , j a in dieser

Umbildung besteht die Griisse des Menschen : darum bleibt

aber ein solcher Erinnerungsschatz doch nichtsdestoweniger

Erinnerungsschatz . F ii r Wichtige Teile der goetheschen Faustdichtung weist nun “ Herder als Faus t ” den Erinnerungs

schatz bei Herder nach . Es scheint also auch Goethe im un

bewuss ten Momente”aus dem Erinnerungsschatze seines

Unterbewusstseins “ geschaffen ”zu haben . Auch ihm galt

aus diesem Erinnerungsschatze Alles“wie geschenkt ” . Und

es war in der Tat ges chenkt . Aber natiirlich n icht aus dem

N ichts sondern aus dem,was Goethe erworben hatte. Zur

Zeit der Entstehung des Faust hatte Goethe nun seine Seelen

bildung von Herder erworben . So diirfte es gekommen sein ,

dass hinter der N iederschrift des Faust , Goethe selbst

vielleicht unbewusst,Herder als der Schenkende stand .

Aus der Verwechslung zwi schen den Quellen des Dichters

und seinem Bewusstsein stammt auch eine Ansicht, die ichselbst von Mannern habe lesen miissen ,

von denen ich

Besseres erwartet hatte : naml ich dass,wenn wir die Gedan

ken und Sprachgemeinschaft zwischen Herder und Goethe

Bruchteil fiir Bruchteil nachweisen ,dann Goethe Bruchteil

fiir Bruchteil aus Herder “abgeschrieben habe. Das ist

natiirlich barer Unsinn .

E inigeMissverstandm’

sse fiber Herder Als F aust 37 5

Drittes Missverstandniss : dass Herder F aust set, ist eine

Hypothese

Dieses Missverstandniss scheint aus einer Unklarheit uberdas Wort “ Hypothese”

zu stammen . Denn sonst miisste ichannehmen

, dass einige L eser den Sinn meines Buches gar

nicht verstanden hatten .

“ Hypothesen ” braucht man,wo

etwas nicht unmittelbar erkannt werden kann ,sondern aus der

Beschaffenheit des Beweisstottes erst mittelbar erschlossenwerden muss . Eine Hypothese z . B . ist es , das Go ethe durchHerder von L ess ings F austplan wusste. Das konnen wirnicht beweisen ; wir kiinnen es nur wahrscheinlich machen .

Der Satz : “ Herder ist Faust ’ist aber von ganz anderer Art.

Er ist n icht mittelbar aus dem Beweisstoite erschlossen ,son

dern er ist nur ein zusammenfass ender Ausdruck dieses un

mittelbaren Beweisstoffes selber . Solch ein zusammenfas sen

der Ausdruck dess en,was unmittelbar vorliegt, ist keine

Hypothese”.

Viertes Missverstandntss : der Verfasser ist verblendet

Das ist an und fiir sich natiirlich moglich . Die Entstehungs

geschichte meines Buches ist die, dass mir bei Fors chungeniiber Herders Philosophie zunachst beil

'

aufig auffiel,wie Viel

gross er an Zahl und Gewicht die Beziehungen Herders zu

Goethes Faust sind,al s unseren Goetheforschern bekannt ist.

Ich richtete in der Folge auf dieses N ebenergebnis ein beson

deres Augenmerk und legte meine Funde in dem Buche Her

der als Faust ” dar . Der Vorgang ist hier also der , dass s ichbei einer urspriinglich auf ganz anderen Wegen gehenden

Forschung durch die eigentiimliche Beschafi'

enheit des Stoffes

von selbst ein Urteil herausbildete, das dann zu einem leitendenGes ichtspunkte in der ferneren Fors chung wurde. Man kann

auch di es ein“ Vorurteil” nennen . Aber ursprunglich war

dies es Vorurteil ein N achurteil. Und auf solchen“Vorur

teilen ” ruht alle wissenschaftliche Fors chung .

Trotzdem ktinnte ich natii rlich irregeleitet sein . Diesbrauchte nur im Einzelnen nachgewiesen zu werden . Bisheraber hat sich noch keine einzige gegen mich geltend gemachteund wirklich belegte Behauptung als stichaltig erwiesen .

Im Gegenteil : was vorgebracht worden ist—die sorgfaltige

76 Jacoby

Besprechung von Karl Alt ausgenommen* — zeugt teils von

einer so mangelhaften Kenntn is der Herderforschung teils vonso unaufmerksamen L esen , dass ich uber die bisherigeSchwache meiner Gegner ers taunt bin . Ich hatte geglaubt

,ich

wiirde mich verteidigen mussen . Statt dessen bin ich durchdie Oberflachlichkeit der bisher vorgebrachten Einwiirfe nu

willkii rlich statt in die Verteidigungs in die Angriffsstellunggedrangt worden .

So hat sich der sonst so verdienstvolle ehrwurdige Hermann

Baumgart im Kampfe gegen mich leider solche Blossen gegeben ,

dass ich gar n icht antworten konnte, ohne ihm schwereWunden beizubringen .

1 So bezeichnet sich Theodor Matthiasausdriicklich als Herderforscher

,verofientlicht aber gegen

meine richtigen Angaben die bedenkliche Behauptung, dass

s ich die fiir die Kenntni s Herders so wichtigen s taatswirt

schaftlichen Pl'

ane im Reisetagebuche auf eine “Riickkehr

an die R igaer R itterakademie”( i) beziigen .

2 Dr . Willy

Brandl ist der Meinung,dass ich nicht imstande sei

,wirkliche

Gleichungen aufzustellen,bringt aber zum Beweise dessen

Gleichungen vor,die ich gar n icht entdeckt sondern aus der

langst bestehenden F austforschung ubernommen habe, und

die von Forschern ersten Ranges wie Suphan,Erich Schmidt

und Jacob Minor langst anerkannt s ind .

3 Ahnl ich zweifelt

Georg Witkowski den Vergleich Herders zwischen der Ge

schichte und dem“ Buche mit s ieben Siegeln ”

als etwas erst

von mi r Beigebrachtes an‘1und weiss

,wie auch aus seinen

F austanmerkungen hervorgeht, 5 offenbar nicht,dass di ese

Herderstelle zu dem ganz al ten und al lgemein anerkannten

Riistzeuge der F austerklarung geho'

rt,ich aber lediglich das

Verdienst an ihr habe, noch inn igere und beweiskraftigere Zusammenh

'

ange nachgewiesen zu haben ,als bisher bekannt wa

ren . An anderer Stelle behauptet Georg Witkowski , as fehle bei

* L iteraturblatt fur Germanische und R omanische Philologie 1 914.

1 K6nigsberger Blatter 1 91 2 N o. 25 .

2 Zeitschrift fur den deutschen Unterricht 1 9 1 2 . S . 5 68 . Dazu die

geradezu unglaubliche Antwort M.

’s ebenda S . 831 .

11 Miinchener “Allgemeine Zeitung ”

(27. September 1 91 3) Sp. 632 f.

‘ L iterarisches Echo 1 91 2.

15 L eipzig (bei Max Hesse ) 1 908 . S . 209 .


378 Jacoby

Faust musse wohl verblendet sein . Hatte sich dieseRede auf handgreifliche Tatsachen stiitzen kiinnen ,

so h '

atte

sie Wert . Sie hat s ich aber selbst entwertet,indem sie an

allen Tatsachen zusammengebrochen ist, die sie fiir sich und

gegen mi ch geltend gemacht hat. Allgemeine Redensartengelten wie Wechselscheine nur dann

,wenn der Unter

schreibende zahlungs f'

ahig ist. Im vorliegenden Fal le gelten

s ie also nicht . Denn bisher haben die Unterschreibenden an

jeder Stelle versagt,an der sie ihre Behauptungen zu er

harten ,d . h . bar zu bezahlen versuchten . Dagegen habe ich

selbst in meinem Buche Alles mit handgreifiichen Tatsachenbar belegt und den Leser nirgends mit dem Wechselschein

blosser Redewendung vertrostet.

Zu solchen blossen Redewendungen gehort auch der von

Morris und Anderen wiederholte Gemeinplatz : die Uber

eins timmungen zwischen Herder und Faust erkl'

arten s ich

durch den allgemeinen Wortschatz der Stiirmer und Branger .

Ich habe in meinemWerke nachdrucklich darauf hingewiesen ,

das auch diese Redensart nie bar bezahlt worden und ihreZahlungs f

'

ahigkeit zweifelhaft ist.

1 ° Unter diesen Umst'

anden

bitte ich M. Morris,mich eines Besseren zu belehren .

Doch zuruck zu der Redewendung : ich musse wohl “verblen

det”

sein . Es ist wirkl ich nicht unbedingt notwendig,das s

die Beschaftigung mit einem wissenschaftlichen Ge

genstande das Auge verblendet . Sie kann es auch sch '

arfen

und zwar iiber die Sehkraft der in diesem Gebiete Ungeiibtenhinaus . Wir pflegen von einem Naturforscher nicht zu sagen

,

S . 6 f. meines Buches .—Karl Alt (L iteraturblatt fur Germanische

und R omani sche Philologie 1 91 4 Spalte 5 4) gibt zu, dass der herderscheSprachgebrauch im F aust den eigentlichen S tiirmern und Dr

'

angern in

keinem wesentlichen Umfange zugehiirt, glaubt aber den N amen Sturmund Drang

”im weitesten Sinne fassen zu diirfen, wobei er namentlich

R ous seau hervorhebt. Daran ist zweifellos richtig, dass Herders seelischeund philosophische Einstellung mit unter dem E influsse der deutschenR ousseaubegeisterung steht, wiewohl Herder selbst keineswegs ein un

bedingter Rousseauschw'

armer war. Das Wichtige j edoch ist, dass dieGefiihlslehre Herders wissenschaftlich iiber die rousseausche Ge

fiihlslehre weit hinaus geht und dass die hierher gehorigen U bereinstim

mungen zwischen Herder und Goethe, die ich in meinem Buche nach

gewiesen habe , unmittelbar nicht auf R ous seaus sondern auf HerdersSprach und Gedankengebrauch zuruckgehen.

EinigeMissverstandm'

sse Uber‘Herder Als F aust 379

er sei fiir den Gegens tand besonders ungeeignet, weil sr si ch solangemit ihm beschaftigt habe. Im Gegente

’

il . So glaube ich ,dass auch mein Auge durch die lange Beschaftigung mit demGegenstande nicht verblendet, sondern dank der damit zu

sammenh'

angenden reichen Erfahrung vielmehr eigentiimlich

gesch'

arft sei . Und ich stiitze diesen Glauben nicht auf blosseallgemeine Erwagungen , sondern auf Tatsachen . Denn -wie

aus den Beispielen von Baumgart, Willy Brandl, Witkowski ,M. K . und Morris hervorgeht , hat mi ch mein Auge dort aufdie richtige Fahrte geleitet , wo diese der Untersuchung ferner

stehenden Herren fehl gingen .

Es geht das aber auch aus anderen Beispielen hervor. Auf

die richtige F ahrte geleitet , wo diese der Untersuchung fernerich naml ich an mehreren Stellen meines Buches auch Gleich~ungen aufgenommen , bei denen der beweisende Tatsachenstofi?

vorlaufig noch n icht schlechthin schliissig war , sondern nur

Wahrs cheinlichkeit fur s ich hatte. Ich hoffte dabei auf einegewisse geistige Freigebigkeit bei meinen L esern

,die auch

Wahrscheinlichkeiten zu sch '

atzen wussten . Diese Hoffnung

hat mich bei E inzelnen meiner L eser get 'auscht . Sie habenjene Stellen sofort wider mich auszunutzen versucht : mitE ifer aber nicht mit Gliick . Denn wo ich zur Zeit der

Drucklegung zwingende Beweise noch n icht bringen konnte,da kann ich sie heute bringen und habe sie unter murrischern

Riickzug meiner Angreifer jedesmal erbracht : so in meiner

Antwort an Baumgart,

1 1an Dr. Willy Brand1 1 1

a

und an

Matthias,

1 2und im Hinblick auf den E inwurf von F erner

storfer und Morris betreffs der Jugenderinnerungen Her

ders 1 3 werde ich sie noch erbringen . Sogar Witkowskis VielVerlangender Einwand :1 4 die Teufelslitanei bei Herder genuge

nicht ; denn es fehle doch noch in ihr der Ausdruck “ Fliegen

gott kann‘

befriedigt werden ; denn wirklich geh iirt der“F liegengott

istatt des gelaufigeren

“Beelzebub zu Herders

Konigsberger Blatter 1 912 N o. 2 5 .

1 1 11 V on der Munchener Zeitung nicht verofi‘

entlicht.

12 Zeitschrift fur den deutschen Unterricht 1 91 2 S . 830 f.

1“Wiener Arbeiterzeitung 1 91 2 N o. 201 . E s handelt sich um F austs

Kindheitserinnerung in der Osternacht.1 4 L iterarisches Echo 1912 . Spalte 1 5 66 .

80 Jdooby

Worts chatz wahrend jener friihen Zeit . 1 5 —Ausnahmslos

hat es s ich an allen solchen Stellen gezeigt , dass meingeiibtes Auge nicht verblendet gewesen war und

“zu Viel ”

gesehen hatte, sondern das naturgemass noch ungeubte Auge

der der Untersuchung ferner stehenden Forscher n icht scharfgenug gewesen war und

“zu wenig erkannt hatte.

Endlich : ware ich wirklich ganz verblendet , so musste mitmir zusammen eine grosse Zahl y on L esern und F orschungs

genossen auch ganz verblendet sein . Wenn die Ubereinstim

mungen,die ich nachweise

,n icht da waren ,

wie k'

ame es dann ,

dass diese Manner das selbe sehen,was ich sehe

,und den

Beweisstoff“ mustergiiltig

”,

“overwhelming”

,

“

glanzend”,

iiberzeugend”,

“iiberw

'

altigend” finden ? Es musste entweder

sein ,dass alle dieseManner solche N arren waren ,

wie ich,und

etwas sahen,was gar n icht wirklich da ist ; oder aber, dass die

Gegner des Buches , was wirklich da ist, gar nicht sehen . Nun,

ich glaube nicht,das s jene anderen Manner von der Kraft

besessen sind,Gesichte aus dem N ichts zu erzeugen . S ie kamen

gewiss n icht mit dem Vorurteile,dass Herder doch Faust sein

mochte,an den Beweisstofi heran ; nach ihrem eigenen Ge

standnis vielmehr mit Zweifel . Sie s ind aber trotz ihres an

fanglichen Zweifels durch die Beschafienheit des Beweisstofiesselber iiberzeugt worden Anders verhalt es s ich mit

Manchen meiner Gegner,die nach i hrem mehrfachen eige

nen Gestandnis das Buch bereits verurteilt hatten ,bevor

sie es kannten . Solche R ichter erwecken kein Vertrauen .

Es kann kein Zweifel sein,dass wir zuweilen nicht glauben ,

was wir n icht miigen ,und dass unsere Endurteile durch uns ere

Vorurteile getriibt werden . Ich habe mich un ter diesen Um

standen des bachelns n icht erwehren kbnnen ,wenn mir

,wie

gesagt,meine Gegner im Eifer Gleichungen als meine eigenen

Schrullen vorwarfen ,die gar nicht von mir sondern von

Mannern wie Scherer, Hildebrand, Suphan ,Erich Schmi dt,

Jacch Minor kamen und langst ein anerkanntes , aber diesen

meinen Gegnern n icht bekanntes Rustzeug der F austfors chungbilden . Dieses langst anerkannte Rustzeug ist

,wie der

angedeutete Missgriff meiner Gegner wider Willen beweist,sachlich von meinem eigenen Riistzeuge gar n icht zu unter

15 Herders Werke, herausgegeben von Suphan Ed. 1. S . 27 5 .


382 Jd ooby

Tatsachen n icht zur hegelschen L ehre stimmen ,einfach ant

wortete : um so schlimmer fiir die Tatsachen . Damals habensich die Tatsachen vor der hegelschen L ehre nicht gebeugt

,

sondern die hegelsche L ehre ist an den Tatsachen gescheitert .Die Tatsachen werden sich auch vor unseren noch so liebgewordenen Vermutungen iiber die Abfassungszeit bestimmterF austteile n icht beugen ,

sondern wir werden uns entschliessenmussen ,

jene Vermutungen nach den Tatsachen zu richten .

1 6

Als ein besonders auffallendes Beispiel fii r das soeben ge

nannte fehlerhafte Verfahren verweise ich hier wiederum auf

Georg Witkowski . Er wirft mir unter anderem vor,ich solle

bei der Stelle iiber die“N amen ”

des Mephisto, die mitHerders Erl

'

auterungen zum N euen Testamen t zusammen

h'

angt,“nicht berucksichtigen ,

dass dies e Partie einer Zeit

entstammt , in der Goethe den E infiuss herderschen Denkenslangst uberwunden hatte In Wahrheit ist es Witkowski ,der n icht berucks ichtigt, dass es an dieser Stelle die Tatsachens ind

,die gegen di e Vermutung uber ihre spate Abfassung

zeugen,nicht aber

,wie Witkowski es wendet , die Vermutung ,

die gegen die Tatsachen spr'

ache. Als kiinne uberhaupt jemals

eine Vermutung gegen Tatsachen sprechen,ohne s ich damit

selbst zu ri chten : ganz abgesehen davon ,dass Goethe niemals

“den E influss herderschen Denkens uberwunden hatte”

.

1

—Es ist aber auch aus anderen Grunden vergeblich,dass s ich

Witkowski gegen den Zusammenhang jener Stelle mit HerdersErl

'

auterungen straubt. Denn di e unmittelbar folgendeSelbstkennzeichnung Mephistos und die unmittelbar vorange

1 6 N ichts ist langwieriger als der Kampf der Tatsachen gegen die

U berlieferung. Goethes “Seefahrt,” so sagt die i iberlieferung, sei garkeine “

Seefahrt”, sondern beziehe sich “sinnbildlich” auf Goethes Abreise

von F rankfurt nach Weimar : eine Annahme, gegen die Alles und fiir

die so gut wie nichts spricht. Aber es ist nun einmal die fiberlieferung.

Wenn ich daher an der Hand der Tatsachen zeige, dass das bisher unbeachtete Gedicht Herders iiber seine wirkliche Seefahrt in vielen Einzelheiten eine Art Vorlage fur das Goethesche Gedicht ist, so halten mirManner wie Matthias und Morris einfach die geliebte fiberlieferung ent

gegen : j enes “Seefahrt” genannte Gedicht bedeutet

“bekanntlich” keine

S eefahrt, sondern die L andfah rt Goethes von F rankfurt nach Weimar.Um so schlimmer fur die dagegen sprechenden Tatsachen. Naheres

daruber findet man im nachsten Hefte des Euphorion.

1 7 L iterarisches Echo 1 91 2. Spalte 1 5 66 .

EinigeMissverstandh tsse Uber‘Herder Als F aust

”383

hende Ubersetzung des Johannesevangeliums stammen aus

genau denselben Erlauterungen Herders wie MephistosNamengebung. Das ist fiir die fibersetzung des Johannesevangeliums nach Vorgang von Bernhard Suphan ,

n icht ers ty on Erich Schmidt

,wie Witkowski in seinen F austanmer

kungen angibt,

1 8von der gesamten Goetheforschung und

sogar von Witkowski selber l'

angst anerkannt . 1 9 Wie will nunWitkowski den Einfiuss der Erlauterungen Herders an dieser

Stelle erkl'

aren,wenn doch “ diese Partie einer Zeit entstammt ,

in der Goethe den Einfius s herderschen Denkens langst iiberwunden hatte”

? Witkowski setzt sich mit seinen eigenen

Waffen matt .

An anderer Stelle wendet er genau dieselbe fehlerhafteBeweisfiihrung an . Er behauptet : das himmlische Vorspieldes Faust stamme aus den neunziger Jahren und kiinne deshalb

n icht mit Herders Hiobstudien in den siebziger Jahren zu

sammen hangen . Gut. Wie steht es dann aber mit der alten

Beobachtung,dass das himmlische Vorspiel voll ist von

Hinweisen auf: die alteste Urkunde, die bekanntlich auch indie siebziger un d n icht in die neunziger Jahre gehiirt ? Alle,die die alteste Urkunde wirklich kennen ,

bestatigen das . Wiewill nun Witkowski das erklaren

,wenn doch “ diese Partie

einer Zeit entstammt , in der Goethe den Einfiuss herderschen

Denkens langst uberwunden hatte”? Er setzt sich auch hier

mit seiner eigenen Waffe matt.

Ich habe bei dieser Gelegenheit noch eine kleine N ebenab

rechnung mi tWitkowski und Morris zu halten . Beide fiihren

in ihren Besprechungen die L eser v-on der Wirklichkeit ab,

indem s ie ihnen geringe,oft nebensachliche Bruchstii cke der

von mir erbrachten Beweise so darstellen ,als seien sie der

eigentliche Beweis . Das gilt zunachst von Witkowskis Darstellung der Beziehungen zwischen dem himml ischen Vor

spiele und Herders Beschaftigung mit Hiob , die er so darstellt ,als oh es s ich hier nur um ganz allgemeine und daher nichtschlussige Ankl

'

ange handele. Er weiss aus der Darstellung

des Buches selbst ganz gut, dass hier ungezahlte handgreiflicheEinzelbeziehungen heriiber-hiniiberfliessen . Er miisste das

13 A . a . O. S . 221 .

1 9 Ebenda.

384 Jacoby

wenigstens wissen,wenn er aufmerksam gelesen hatte. N och

ausgiebiger bedient s ich Morr is dieses Verfahrens .

Doch zuruck zu der Abfassungszeit angeblich spater Faust

teile. Die Lbsung der Schwierigkeiten heisst da n icht : dieTatsachen des Herder als Faust widersprechen unseren Ver

mutungen ,also s ind die Tatsachen falsch ; sondern sie heisst :

unsere Vermutungen widersprechen jenen Tatsachen,also

sind unsere Vermutungen falsch . Der nun einmal vor

handene Befund,

von dem un s keine Macht der Welt

erlb’

st,naml ich das s die auf Herder weisenden Beziehungen

vermeintlich spaterer F austteile in eine friihe Zeit deuten ,

muss wohl oder iibel in E inklang gebracht werden mit

unseren N achrichten von Goethes spater Arbeit an jenen

Teilen . Ob man dabei nun meiner Annahme folgen will,dass

jene Teile frii h entworfen ,aber spat in dichterische Gestalt

gebracht s ind,oder glauben will

,dass Goethe diese Dinge so

lange im Gedachtnis behalten habe oder eine andere Erkl'

arung

bringen will,wenn sie nur glaubhaf t ist : das ist Von gerin

gerem Belang . Sobald die Tatsachen aufhiiren , ist fiir Ver

mutungen weiter Raum. Aber jene Tatsachen ,an denen die

L ehre von der spaten Abfassungszeit friiher F austteile scheitert

,die lassen sich n icht wegschelten : sie sind da, und die

F austfors chung muss sich mit ihnen abfinden .

S echstes Missverstandniss : die spate Abfassungszeit gewisser Herderstellen spricht gegen Herder als F aust.

Ein Gegenstiick zu dem Vorwurf : ich hatte friihe Herderschriften auf spate F austteile bezogen ,

bildet der andere Vor

wurf : ich h '

atte sp'

ate Herderschriften auf friihe F austteile

bezogen . Diese letztere Behauptung steht, in erfreulichemUnters chiede von jener ersteren ,

wenigstens auf dem Tat

sachenboden. Ich mochte dabei aber vor einem Missver

st'

andnisse warnen .

20 E iner der schwerwiegendsten Beweisgrunde der Untersuchung “ Herder als Faus t” liegt darin ,

dass neun Zehntel aller Belege aus denWerken Herders jus t in

die Zeit der F austents tehung gehiiren ,wahrend die spateren

Schriften Herders als Quelle fiir den Faust bis auf die

wen igen noch zu erw'

ahnenden Ausnahmen ganz versagen . Es

2° V gl. zu dem F olgenden meine Antwort an Baumgart in den Konigsberger Blattern vom Juni 1 91 2 (No .


386 Jacoby

rufen ,der von dem Strassburger Winter mit Herder schrelbt

“Was di e F ii lle dieser wen igen Wochen betrifft , welche wirzusammen lebten , kann ich wohl sagen ,

dass Alles,was Herder

nachher allmahlich ausgefiihrt hat,im Keime angedeutet

ward”. Ah nliche Ausfiihrungen Goethes betonen dasselbe

,

und ihre R ichtigkeit wird durch den nachweisbaren Entwicklungsgang des Gedanken und Worts chatzes Herders bestatigt .

Unter di esen Umstanden ist es sachlich geboten,den gesem

ten Gedanken und Wortschatz Herders namentlich in dem

derF austentstehung nahe liegenden Zeitraume heran zu ziehen .

Wenn sich daher Gedanke und Aus druck des Faust in HerdersSchriften wahrend der zweiten Halfte der siebziger Jahrefinden

,so ist mit der hohen Wahrscheinlichkeit ; wenn sie

sich im An fange der achtziger Jahre finden,noch mit

der guten Miiglichkeit zu rechnen ,dass sie in Herders Ge

danken und Sprachschatz bereits in der ersten Halfte der

s iebziger Jahre vorhanden waren . Und selbs t, wenn sie

einem der F austentstehung ferner liegenden Zeitraume an

geboren wiirden ,so waren solche Ankl

'

ange, falls sie ge

funden wurden ,immer noch ein bedeutender Fingerzeig

dafiir,dass man nachzusuchen hatte

,oh dieser Sprach

gebrauch Herders vielleicht his in die friihen siebzigerJah re zuruck geht . Es ist namlich eine unter den Herder

forschern bekannte Tatsache,dass ein grosser Teil des

herderschen Sprachgebrauches in den neunziger Jahren schon

wahrend der siebziger Jabre bei ihm vorhanden war . Daraus

ware der sonst schwer erklarbare hie und da zu findende

Anklang spater Herderworte an fruhe F austteile zu erklaren .

Das Wesen dieser Anklange s chliesst in den mir bekannten

Fallen die umgekehrte Entstehung des Worts chatzes Herders

aus dem Faust aus . Jedes vorschnelle Urteil , dass spatere

Herderschriften unter keinen Umstanden fur friihe Faus t

stellen in Frage kamen ,s cheitert hier an den Tatsachen als

eine der Allgemeinheiten ,die zwar leicht auszusprechen sind ,

aber zusammen brechen ,sobald man sie an der niemals so

einfachen Wirklichkeit erproben willDas richtige Verfahren mit spateren Herderschriften in

Fragen Herders als Faust ergibt sich lediglich aus einer cingehenden Fachkenntnis , namentlich einer Kenntnis des tatsach

EinigeMissverstandm'

sse Uber Herder Als F aust 387

lichen Entwicklungsganges von Herders Gedanken und

Wortschatz . Gerade diese Fachkenntnis , die die einzigeBiirgschaft fur das wissenschaftlich richtige Verfahren bildet ,lassen viele meiner Gegner vermiss en . Statt dessen pochen

sie mir gegenuber auf ihre “Methode“Das preisen die Schuler aller Orten

Sind aber keine Weber geworden

Wahre Methode”entwickelt sich ers t an einem tiefen Ein

blicke in die Eigentiimlichkeit des jeweiligen Wissenschaftsstoff

‘

es . S ie besteht darin ,dass man die dort obwaltenden

besonderen Verhaltnisse genau kennen lern t,und zuweilen

darin,dass man imstande ist das zu sehen

,was s ich dem

oberfiachlichen L eser verbirgt . Wem jene Fachkenntn is un ddiese Sehkraft fehlt , der bleibt trotz der sch iinsten

“Methode”

im Argen .

S iebentes Missverstandniss : Ausser Herder hc'

itten noch d/ie

anderen F austquellen hewmgezogefn werden sollen .

Diese Forderung ist nur von G. Witkowski aufgestellt worden . Aber Witkowski

,dessen eigene F austanmerkungen

allenthalben die wichtigsten Quellen vermissen lass en ,scheint

bei der Aufstellung seiner Forderung die “anderen ”

Quellen

hier ebenso wenig aufgeschlagen zu haben wie den Herder an

der schon erwahnten Mephist0phelesstelle. Sonst hatte er

eine solche Forderung schwerlich gestellt . Denn er hatte dann

gewusst, dass fas t durchgangig bei dem fiir Herder in Frage

kommenden Beweisstotte die anderen Quellen gerade versagen .

Dies Ergebnis steht auch auf der Witkowski offenbar un

bekannten Seite 9 meines Buches .

Eine Ausnahmestellung bildet das mittelalterliche Zauberwesen , dessen Sonderstellung aber Witkowski nicht zum Be

wusstsein gekommen zu sein scheint . Die Lb'

sung ist hier, wieich in “ Herder als Faust” bereits hervorgehoben habe, nochn icht spruchreif. Wir miissen uns daher vorlaufig damit

begniigen ,den Beweisstofi,

der fur eine Beeinfiussung durchHerder sprich'

t,aufzuzeigen . Dass daneben auch andere

Quellen in Frage kommen,weiss jeder

,der j e eine Faust

erklarung aufgeschlagen hat. Die Schwierigkeit der Sachlagemit Riicksicht auf das mittelalterliche Zauberwesen ist die,

dass Herders Denken selbst , lange bevor er mit Goethe zu

388 Jceoby

sammentrifft, starke neuplatonische, mi ttelalterliche undmystische E inschl 'age zeig’

t . Unter di esen Umstanden halte ichvorl

'

aufig an der von mir in “ Herder als Faust” gegebenen

Kennzeichnung der Sachlage tes t : “In den wenigen Fallen

, in

denen Herder mit anderen Quellen zum Faust imWettbewerb

steht , wie namentlich im Falle des mittelalterlichen Zauberund Geisterwesens : da legt sich die Vermutun g nahe, dassHerder und Goethe, wo nicht aus derselben Quelle, so doch aus

demselben Quells trome schopften”

.

2 1 Wir mus sen hierwissenschaftliche Zuruckhaltung uben

,bis der Zusammen

hang jener Beziehungen durch E inzeluntersuchung ausge

macht worden ist.

Aber Witkowski und Morris uben diese wissenschaftlicheZurii ckhaltung n icht . Beide erklaren ohne Weiteres die

verdienstvolle Arbeit der Agnes Bartscherer uber den Ein

fluss des Paracelsus auf den Faust und meine Arbeit fiir

unvereinbar. Morris kommt gar in einem Seiten langen

Vergleich zwischen den beiden Buchern zu dem Ergebnis ,Agnes Bartscherer miisse mich und ich sie

“in einer seltsamen

Verblendung befangen ”sehen . Meines Teiles denke ich gar

nicht daran . Der E inzige,den ich “

in einer seltsamen Ver

blendung befangen sehe, istMax Morris . Agnes Bartschererweist uns in die R ichtung jenes gemeinsamen Quellstromes , an

den auch ich glaube. Aus diesem Strome haben wahrs cheinlich Herder wie Goethe geschtipft. Wer freilich bei dem

ausserlichen Buchstaben stehen bleibt , wer wie Morris

S'

atze aus dem Zusammenhange reisst s ie dann neben ein

ander stellt,und auf diese Weise das Wesen der beiden

Schriften vergleichen zu kiinnen glaubt , der hat“Die Teile in seiner Hand,Fehlt

,leider ! nur das geistige Band

In Wahrheit besteht ein Zwiespalt nur zwischen Bruchstiickenund Buchs taben beider Schriften . Ihr geistiges Verhaltnis ist

das einer wechselseitigen Erg'

anzung . Zudem ist die innere

Zusammengehtirigkeit zwischen neuplaton ischen und herderschen Einflii ssen im Faust langst von Julius Goebel betont undausfiihrlich dargelegt worden .

2 2 Witkowski und Morris21 Herder als F aust S . 9 .

22 Julius Goebel Goethe s F aust”, N ew York (Holt) 1 907, 2 . A . 1 909.


390 Jacoby

der Tat ein Selbsterlebnis : naml ich Goethes Weise,Herder zu

erleben . Und doch ist di eses Erleben Herders bei dem jungenGoethe wiederum kein Selbsterlebn is . Denn Goethe selbst

ist hier zwar der Erlebende, aber ist nicht der Erlebte. Der

Erlebte ist Herder .

-Al lein diese Dinge kann man nicht durchschiine allgemeine Redewendun gen sondern nur durch Tat

sachen ausmachen .

Goethes L ebensges chichte zeigt uns einen ganz anderen Men

schen als Faus t . Der verbitterte und vergramte Faust imers ten Auftritte des Schauspiels ist nicht der lustige “ Frank

forter Bub ”, Herders

“ Spatz ” und Specht”,der junge

Goethe, den wir wirklich kennen . Dagegen wissen wir aus

Herders eigenen Bekenntnissen,dass ihn allerdings diese

F auststimmung gerade zur Zeit seiner Freunds chaft mitGoethe beherrschte.

Von faustischen Geistererlebnissen Goethes wissen wirn ichts . Dagegen wissen wir y on solchen ganz aufiallend an

Faust erinnernden Erlebniss en bei Herder,und wissen aus

Herders Briefen , dass ihn di ese Erlebnisse gerade in Strass

burg aufs N eue beschaftigten .

Dafur das s Goethe Faus t im Gesprache mi t Wagner sei,

haben wir nicht den mindesten Anhalt. Dagegen k'

onnen wir

zeigen ,dass nicht nur sachlich sondern auch wortlich Faus ts

Spruche an Wagner die Spriiche Herders gegen die Auf

kl'

arung zur Zeit der Abfassung des Faust sind.

Die Vergottungserlebnisse, die im Faust als Fortsetzung

der Erdgeisterscheinung nach dem F ortgange Wagners auf

treten ,gleichen aufs Haar den Vergottungserlebnissen ,

die bei

Herder als Fortsetzung der Geisterers cheinungen auftreten

und jene niedergedruckte, dann wieder gewaltsam gesteigerte,das Erdenleben verneinende, ein hoheres Leben fordernde

Stimmung verraten ,welche in dieser Form dem jungen Goethe

fremd, dagegen Herders damalige Grunds timmun g war .

Da Faust in der Osternacht an seine Jugend zuruck denkt,denkt er nicht an Goethes Jugend noch auch an seine Knabenzeit “

im Al lgemeinen ”,wie Pernersdorfer und Morris

verkiinden . Diese Verkiindigung ist bequem,entbehrt jedoch

jeder sachlichen Unterlage und, was s chlimmer ist, des tieferenE inblicks in den Sinn des Faust . Goethe beabsichtigte schwer

EinigeMissverstandnisse iiber Herder Als F aust 391

lich in Fausts geheiligter Kindheitserinnerung einen Knabenim Allgemeinen zu s childern

,wie es deren Dutzende gibt , wie

“ jeder kirchlich erzogene ordentliche Knabe”ist, um

Morris ’

s eigenen Ausdruck zu brauchen . Offenbar ist Morrisausser Stande

,das fiir jeden verstandnisvollen Leser hier

selbstverst'

andlich zu bemerken ,dass das Kind der Vater des

Mannes ist dass sich in dem unbegreiffiich holden Sehnen desjungen Faust wie des jungen Herder die seelische Qual desherangereiften bereits vorbereitet hatte. Morris sieht in diesentief angelegten zum Grossen geborenen Knaben nichts als

Durchschnittsj ungen . Wir Anderen sehen mehr in ihnen .

Diese Erinnerung geht nun auf Goethes eigene Kindheit nichtzuruck. S ie erinnert aber Strich fiir Strich an Herders Kinderzeit . Der erwachsene Faust tr

'

agt die Ziige Herders ; und da in

dem Kinde Herder der spatereMann schlummerte, ist auch dieKindheitserinnerung des Faust Herders Kindh eitserinnerunggewsorden .

2 3

Aber weiter. Faus t als fibersetzer des Johannesevangeliumsverhalt sich genau so wie Herder als fibersetzer des Johannesevangeliums . E ine Ubersetzung des Johannesevangeliumsdurch Goethe selber ist mir unbekannt . Das dann folgende

Gesprach des Faust zeigt diesen wiederum in jener aussersten ,

weltverneinenden Verbitterung,die dern jungen Goethe in

dieser Form fremd, dagegen Herder damals eigen war , und

zwar nicht nur “im Allgemeinen ”

sondern in jeder einzelnen

Stufe des Gespraches sachlich und wortlich .

Endlich der Aufriss des gesammten Schauspieles einschliess

lich des zweiten Teiles erinnert so autfallig an Herders L ebens

plan zur Zeit der Entstehung des Faust, dass auch hierschwerlich von einem Zufall gesprochen werden kann . Dag e

gen wissen wir n ichts von einem derartigen L ebensplane desjungen Goethe.

N ach alledem ist,sobald man an die Tatsachen geht

,Faust

zwar dichterisch von Goethe erlebt , ist aber nicht selbst Goethe :namlich n icht der Goethe, den wir aus seiner L ebensbes chrei

bung,seinen Briefen und den Zeugniss en seiner Zeitgenossen

23 In einem spateren Aufsatze werde ich, wie ich bereits friiher

andeutete, weiteren Beweisstofl’ fiir F austs und Herders Jugenderin

nerungen bringen.

392 Jacoby

kennen . Dagegen tragt der Faus t auf Schritt und Tritt tatsachlich herdersche Ziige. Unter diesen Umstanden ist das

Wort : Faust ist n icht Herder sondern Goethe” falsch . Das

richtige Wort lautet : “ Faust ist nicht Goethe sondern Her

der”

. An diesem Punkte kann ich also weder sachlich noch imAusdrucke irgend etwas nachgeben . Dagegen bin ich gerneerbotig , in anderer Beziehun g Einraumungen zu machen .

Mehrfach habe ich mich namlich in meinem Buche des Aus

drucks bedient,dass an der in Betracht kommenden Stelle

Faust kein anderer als Herder” sei . Daraufhin redet michHermann Baumgart durch Goethes Sprachrohr folgender

mas sen an z“0 du Esel , du einfaltiger Burs che, du heilloser

Kerl” .

24 Ich bin gerne bereit , mir den auf diese Weise bean

standeten Ausdruck abzugewohnen . F iir andere L eser braucheich nicht zu sagen

,dass wenn ich mich jenes Ausdrucks in

seinem allgemein verbreiteten volkstiimlichen Sinne bediene

und sage : Faust sei an vielen Stellen “ kein anderer als Her

der”,ich dami t n icht meine : Faust sei an allen Stellen

ausschliesslich HerderE ine solche Ausschliesslichkeit wurde fur mich gar keinenSinn haben . Die Dichtung Goethes heisst nicht “ Herder ”

sondern “ Faust ” . Darum ist Faus t auch da, wo er Herders

Ziige tragt , selbstverstandlich nichtsdestoweniger Faust . Und

insofern Goethes di chterisches Erlebnis in Frage kommt , ister

,wie wir gesehen haben

,auch Goethe. Ich hotfe spater noch

einmal Gelegenheit zu dem N achweis zu haben,das s Faust die

Zuge des Adam tragt als des urbildlichen Menschen nachHerders Ausdeutung. Und im Gretchenschauspiele wie in

den E inzelheiten des zweiten Teiles mag man in der Faus t

gestalt zu finden suchen,wen man will .

Ich k6nute also eine mir von Konrad Burdach im Brief

wechsel vorgeschlagene Gleichung : Faust = Goethe Her

der X Y N“ gern unters chreiben (wie

wohl ich fiir das Zeichen in diesen Fragen n icht Viel uhrig

habe) lieber als die im Druck von ihm abgegebene Entschei

dung : “Auch Faust selbst ist n icht Herder, wie man neulich

erweisen wollte, sondern Goethe”.

2 5 Diese letztere Entschei

Konigsberger Blatter 1 91 2 N o . 1 6 .

25 S itzungsberichte der K iiniglichen Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 1 91 2 . Ed. 35 . S . 6 5 6.


394 Jdooby

N euntes Missverstandm’

ss : Herder als F aust wider

spricht unseren N eigungen .

Hinter den meisten Angriffen gegen Herder als Faus t

stehen zwei von manchen L esern eingestandene,zwar

sehr naturliebe aber nicht wissenschaftliche Triebfedern

namlich einmal das geistige Beharrungsvermogen ,das den

Zusammenbruch liebgewordener ("Iberlieferungen scheut,und

zum Anderen die Furcht vor einer etwa drohenden Herabminderung unserer Verehrung zu Goethe.

Beide Beweggrunde s ind sehr begreifiich . Man muss sich vor

Augen halten ,dass die F austforschung wie jedes L ehrgeb

'

aude

einen geschlossenen Zusammenhang von Erkenntn issen bildet ,und dass in diesen Erkenntnissen Tatsachen ,

Deutungen und

Annahmen schier unentwirrbar verflochten s ind . Nun

schneien in dieses Gefiecht die neu aufgedeckten Tat

sachen des Herder als Faust hinein und erregen zunachst einearge Verwirrung. Manche langs t gewohnte fiberlieferungen

werden erschiittert und selbstverstandlich von ihren Freundenverteidigt . Aber wie es dann zu geschehen pflegt : die Ver

teidiger vergessen ,was an der fiberlieferung Tatsache ist, was

lediglich Deutung und Annahme,und fiihren in Ermangelung

besserer Stii tzen die L etzteren ins Feld, als seien sie das

Ers tere. Gegen solche Verteidigung ist die UntersuchungHerder als Faust ” im Vorteil . Denn da sie sich fast

auss chliess lich auf Tatsachen aufbaut ohne Vermutungen,so

kann sie mit ihren Tatsachen die blossen Vermutungen und

Deutungen der verteidigten fiberlieferung unschwer in Schachhalten . Ich habe das namentlich an dem Beispiele y on Wit

kowski gezeigt ;2 8 ich hatte es aber auch fast Schritt fiir

Schritt an den Ausfiihrungen von Max Morris zeigen kiinnen .

ImUbrigen habe ich nicht den mindesten Grund, die Angrifi’

e

und Ausfalle meiner Gegner iibel zu nehmen . In Fragen

Herders als Faust kann man nicht von heute auf morgen um

denken . Es bedarf dazu geraumer Zeit , und ich habe VielZeit und Geduld .

Es kommt hinzu,dass Herder als Faust einer gerade er

starkenden und an sich sehr zu begrii ssenden Tagesrichtung

nicht folgt,sondern Wege einschl 'agt, die, freilich ganz mit

1“S . dieses Aufsatzes .

EinigeMtssverstandnisse fiber “Herder Als F aust 395

Unrecht,zu jener Tagesrichtung in Gegensatz gebracht werd

em. Meine Untersuchung verwendet statt des “

philos0phi

schen ” Verfahrens das“ philologische”

nicht aus irgendwelcher Abneigung gegen die Philos0phie, der ich vielmehrmein L eben gewidmet habe, sondern in der Erkenn tnis ,dass im vorliegenden Falle nicht ein philos0phisches

”

sondern nur ein“ philologis ches ” Verfahren weiter fiihrt.

Was fur ein Verfahren eingeschlagen wird , das richtet s ichnicht nach der Herzensneigung oder einer Tagesrichtung

sondern einzig und allein nach der Sachlage. Es gibteben

,wie in allen Wissenschaften , so in der L iteraturge

schichte mehrere Verfahrungsweisen neben einander, die

sich wechselseitig erganzen . Dies ist auch das Verh'

altnis

zwischen dem “ philologischen und“

philos0phischen”Ver

fahren . Ohne jenes kann dieses gar n icht bestehen ,und

wie mich diinkt,lasst s ich auch von Mannern wie Hildebrand ,

Scherer, Suphan ,Erich Schmidt und sogar aus

(

meinem Buche

Herder als Faust ” Manches fiir die Philosophie wie fiir dasgeistige Verfahren Goethes lernen .

N ichtsdestoweniger haben Einige meiner Gegner geglaubt ,als Vertreter der Zunft gegen mich Misstrauen erregen zu sol

len ,indem sie zu vers tehen gaben,

als“Philosoph ”

sei ich in

literarischer Forschung verd'

achtig . Das Unglii ck hat es jedoch

gewollt,dass sich . gerade diese Manner in ihren Besprech

ungen schlimme Bliissen gaben und so selber bewiesen ,dass

die Starke des Zunftbewusstseins n icht immer der Starke des

Wissens entspricht . Zudem erklare ich fiir L es er,deren

Vertrauen zu mir davon abhangt, dass ich seit dem Beginne

meiner akademischen L ehrzeit “Philologie”

und n icht nur

deutsche s tudiert habe,dass ich mir schon 1 903 auf Grund

einer rein “ philologischen ”Arbeit die L izentiatenwiirde er

warb,dass ich bereits 1 904 die Oberlehrerprufung fiir deutsch

in der Obers tufe bestand, dass ich dann zu meiner weiteren

Ausbildung unter Erich Schmi dt studierte, mit einer dieL iteraturgeschichte beriihrenden Arbeit zum Doktor promo

vierte und seit neun Jahren mit Herderfors chungen beschaf

tigt bin . L esern ,die auf solche Dinge Wert legen ,

werden

diese Angaben als Burgschaft fiir meine fachwissenschaftlicheZustandigkeit geniigen .

396 Jd ooby

Die N eigung zu dem gegenwartig erstarkenden philosophischen

” Verfahren in der L iteraturgeschichte und die Ab

neigung gegen das“ philologische” Verfahren ist von dem

Bewuss tsein geleitet , das s durch die letztere Art der F orschungdemWerke des Dichters weni ger Ehrfurcht angetan werde alsdurch die andere. Ich will zugeben

,dass sogenannte “Wurdi

gungen ” cine besonders giin stige Gelegenheit zu Ehrfurchts

bezeugungen geben . Ich will auch zugeben,dass eine ober

fiachliche Quellenuntersuchung ehrfurchtslos sein kann

welche oberfi'

achliche“Wfii rdigung

” ware nicht ebenso ehr

furchtslos ? I—Dagegen bestreite ich entschieden,dass di e

Quellenfors chung als solche und das s mein Buch “ Herder als

Faus t ” einen Mangel an Ehrfurcht beweise. Ich kann nichtdafiir

,dass mir unaufmerksame L eser andichten

,ich er

n iedrige Goethes Faust zu einem Zusammensetzspiel”(Dr .

Willy Brandl ) . Dem Geiste des Buches ist diese allzu ober

flachliche Ausdeutung der Sachlage,die ich in meinem Buche

selber gebrandmarkt habe,2 9

vollig fremd .

Einer wahren Goetheverehrung tut Herder als Faust nichtden mindesten Abbruch . Der Gro

'

sse eines wirklich grossen

Mannes kiinnen Tats achen uberhaupt keinen Abbruch tun .

Und in meinen Augen ist Goethe wirklich gros s , einer der

Griissten ,die j e gelebt haben . Mir ist er durch di e Art seiner

Beziehungen mit Herder n icht kleiner sondern grtisser ge

worden . Das liegt daran,dass ich diese Beziehungen sorgfaltig

untersucht und ihre psychologische Tragweite durchdachthabe. Nur wer s ich dieser Sorgfalt uberhoben glaubt , wirdzu einem anderen Ergebnis kommen .

Die Besorgnis,dass meine Untersuchung eine Verleidung

der Freude an Go ethe”(Matthias ) und eine Storung des

naturlichen Beharrungsvermtigens bedeuten kiinne, ist weniger

wissens chaftlich als menschlich , und das rein Menschliche an

ihr hat die allzu menschliche Folge gehabt, dass Manche untermeinen Gegnern im Gegensatze zu dem vornehmen Tone

meines Buches dieses und mi ch selbst mit beleidigenden Scheltnamen iiberhauft haben .

“ Fratzenhaft”,

“Dilettantenwust

“Esel , einfaltiger Bursche, heilloser Kerl”,

“Gymn asiasten

aufsatz ”,

“einer der iibelsten Auswiichse der PseudOphilo

3° S . 370 fi'

. meines Buches.


398 Button

DRAMATIC FASHION S ILLUSTRATED IN SIX OLD

PLAYSFrom the end of the s ixteenth century to the end of the

eighteenth there were wri tten in England six plays,all dealing

with the same story . The plays are, the anonymous A Knaehe

to Knowe a m e, Edward Ravenscroft’s King Edgar a/hd

A lfreda, Thomas Rymer ’s Edgar ; or, the Eng lish Monarch,

Aaron Hill ’s Elfrid, the same writer ’

s Athelwold, andWilliamMason

’

s E lfm'

da } The story is the old legend of the love of

King Edgar for the fair Alfreda or Elfrid . The plays are of

little intrinsic merit,but the various changes in the treatment

of the same theme well illustrate the varying dramatic fashions during two centuries . To the student of dramatic theoryand practice in England the modifications introduced in thesesuccessive plays are full of significance, and a study of them

from this point of View may well be worth while.

In examining these plays it is necessary to have in mind theprocess oi. change in the formulation and application of Englishdramatic theories from the mid-Elizabethan era

,when de

tached neo-clas sical rules were preached but not much practiced, to the Restoration period, when a partial and super

ficial neo-classicism was combined with the heroic type ; to

the early eighteenth century development of the sentimental

domestic tragedy ; to the practically contemporaneous vogueof neo-clas sical plays following French models ; and to the

time later in the century when there arose a group of plays

which hark back directly,without the mediation of interpret

ing rules , to Grecian models . All oiz these schools of dramaticcomposition are represented , or approximately represented, by

the series of plays mentioned above. The Elizabethan comedyrepresents the relative formlessness of the popular drama of

the time. Ravenscroft’

s is a hero ic play in the straightjacket of superficial neo-clas sicism. Edgar, as will be seen ,

stands apart as an example of the s tri ct application of neo

clas sical rul es . Hill ’s first play belongs distinctly to the sentimental group . His Athelwold shows the influence of the

1 Ward, English Dramatic L iterature, I I , 6 10, note, mentions theseplays, but no one, as far as I am aware, has attempted a comparison of

Dramatic F ashions Illustmted in S ix Old Plays 399

regular tragedies of French authorship . And Mason ’s

E lfm'

da, is fairly typ ical of what may be termed the pseudoGrecian method, in contradistinction to the neo-classic .The s tory on which these plays are based is old. Ward 2

points out that it is found in an old“ Song of King Edgar,

shewing how he was deceived of his Love”.

3 He might haveadded that many of the old chronicles relate practically thesame story.

‘1 It is worth summarizing here. The song relates

that King Edgar,

5a widower, having heard of the beauty of

Estrild (Alfrid ) , daughter of Earl Orgstor of Devonshire,summoned a knight

,Ethelwood , (Ethelwold, Athelwold ) and

sent him to see Estrild, and, if he found her beauty equalled

report, to woo her for the king. The knight went to Devon

shire,became himself enamoured of the maid, and planned to

win her . So he returned to the king with the as surance that

the girl ’s beauty was far less than had been reported, and that

she was

. far unmeet in everything

To match with such a noble king .

However, Ethelwood hinted that her riches would make herno bad match for himself . The king consented , and the

knight wedded the lady. The king, after these events , con

tinued to hear reports of Estrild’s beauty

,and concluded

that he had been deceived . Therefore, not betraying hiswrath

,he told E thelwood to prepare for a royal Visit. The

knight,dismayed

,confessed to his wife his wretched deceit ,

and begged her to disguise her beauty by homely attire and

repulsive behavior . She seemed to assent to the request , but

when the king came,greeted him in her costliest robes

, and

returned his glances with interest . The king,seeing her

beauty,was angered . Calling to the earl he suggested that

they go hunting ; and during the hunt with a shaft the

earl was slain . And in time the king married the lady. The

song concludes,

1 Hist. Eng. Dram. L it , II, 610, N ote 2 .

11 F ound in Old Ba llads , Thos . Evans , 1 777, V ol. I, p. 29 ; and in

Publications of the Percy Society, V ol . XXX , p. 1 2 .

4 Gerard L angbaine, A h A ccount of the E nglis h Drama tic Poets , 1691edition, p. 434, points out some, but not all, of these .

11 The Saxon king, reigning A . D . 95 9-97 5 .

400 Dutton

Thus he that did the king deceiveDid by desert his death receive.

Then , to conclude and make an end

Be true and faithful to thy fri end.

This is substantially the story found in the chronicles .

They add certain details about Edgar ’

s reign which appear

in some of the later plays . F or example, Holinshed and

Stow,not to mention the early chroniclers , such as Roger

de Hoveden and Matthew of Westminster, tell how Edgar had

eight captive kings row his barge on the river . Edgar ’

s great

navy is referred to by most of the chroniclers Holinshed re

frains from mentioning any definite number of ships ; Speed ,following Hoveden

,pu ts it at 3600; Stow gives the same

number, but thinks 300 the more likely ; Matthew of West

minster makes it 4800. Rymer,in the prologue to his play

,

rates it at an even four thousand . Grafton and Holinshedrelate the story of the quarrel between “ Kynadus

”,king

of Scotland,and Edgar

,and several authorities vouch for

the presence of the Scottish king at the English court, an

incident of which Rymer makes use. These details , and the

love-story of Edgar,form the s tuff out of which the plays

were fashioned.

In A Knache to Knowe a Knave 6 the Edgar-Alfreda story

is practically the same as in the old song, save in the catas tro

phe. Edgar s ends Ethelwald as his proxy to woo Alfreda,and is deceived by his envoy, who marries the girl hims elf.The king visits the traitor, and is determined to kill him,

when Dunstan,who in the play is related to Ethelwald, sum

mons the devil , whereupon the king forgives the bishop ’s

relative. The time element of. the story is unmodified,and

the various episodes are shown completely in action ; the6 Dodsley

’s Old English Plays, Vol. VI . This play is not, of course ,

representative of the fully developed Elizabethan technique. It was

printed in 1 5 94. H enslowe (W. W. Greg. cd . ) enters the play in

June, 1 5 92 . Greg ( I I , 1 5 6 ) in comment says the play was performedas a new play June 10, 1 5 92 . The general crudity in design and

dialog, especially the utter absence of connection between the“morality”

portion of the play and the Edgar-Alfreda portion, save as bothare connected with the king, seem to be indications of an early dateof composition.


402 Dutton

It was acted in 1 677 9 and was printed the same year. It

probably appeared toward the end of the year, for its first and

only advertisement in the Term Catalogues appears on the

28th of February,The lapse of time has brought about a decided change indramatic methods , and whereas we see the Elizabethan playwright adhering closely to the story in the old song

, and

gaining variety of interest at the expense of utter loss of unityof action ,

we hn d Ravenscroft manipulating his material andadapting it to his purpose

,if not wi th skill

,at least with

boldness . It is true that the antecedent action which is indicated follows the first part of the Edgar—Alfreda story withcons iderable fidelity , but the catas trophe is changed, and new

characters and new incidents are freely introduced . Says

Ravenscroft in his Preface,

“I have intnoduced new Persons

to raise a Plott,and vary

’d from the Chronicle, to better the

Character of the King ; Knowing that the Criticks in Poetryare more Censorious and Severe, than

‘

the Historians . Thisconsciousness of critical standards , and this avowed effort to

meet their demands,are significant of changes s ince the easy

Elizabethan era.

Ravenscroft’s play

,like those coming after his , takes up

the Edgar-Alfreda story at a point where it is already well

advanced . The initial s ituation of the play shows departure

from sources . Ethelwold does not remain at home, but is at

court with his newly won Alfreda. Edgar, the king, is pro

A time when th’Author had more Zeal than Witt ;

But pondering on’t he found it wou’

d not do.

That is, an old play has been remodeled to suit the taste of the times .

F or ex ample, in regard to rime, so distinctly characteristic of the heroicdrama

'

Ravenscroft writes that the playgoers are surfeited ; consequentlyhe has changed much of the dialog into blank verse . L ikewise he feelsthe need o f reaction from the excess of the heroic drama ; so,

We have no R ant, no R apture, nor high flight,

The Poet makes us Men and Women all to N ight.F or all this , there is rant and exaggeration. But it is evident that theplay was first written to conform to the heroic method, and was re

written to agree with new standards, involving some of the dicta of neo

classicism.

° Genest, A h A ccount of the English S tage, V ol. I, p. 201 ; TheatreRoyal, 1677 .

1° Cf. Arber’s R eprints of Term Catalogues, date cited.

Dramatic F ashions Illustrated in S ix Old Plays 403

vided with a queen, the daughter of a lord Ruthin ,

throughwhose machinations she has attained her pos ition . F or a

time events move along as in the old story. Ethelwold re

veals his treachery to Al-freda, who agrees to do her best to

rescue him from his predicament . But, angered, she exerts

herself to attract the king, who, noting her beauty, is furiousat Ethelwold

’s deception . After various complications Al

freda and the king agree to meet that night . But Alfreda,who does not wish to go too far , warns the queen ,

who takes

her place. Ethelwold, learning of the appointment but not of

the substitution ,plans to enter the bower and kill his guilty

wife. He kills the queen ,is himself killed, and the king is left

free to marry Alfreda.

1 1

In addition to the main plot minor episodes are introducedby means of new characters . Edgar is provided with a sister,Matilda, and Alfreda with a brother

,Aldernald, a young ad

mi ral , who comes to court accompanied by Durzo,

“a blunt

Sea Captain .

”Aldernald is paired off with Matilda

,while

11 It is worthy of note that R avenscroft and R ymer both depart fromthe chronicles to adopt virtually the same catastrophe. The practicallysimultaneous appearance of the two plays makes borrowing either wayimprobable, unless R ymer got hold of that early version which R avenscroft speaks of, and this appears unlikely. A common source seems

probable.

R avenscroft in his Preface remarks S everal F orreign Authors havewrit upon this part [ i . e., the Edgar

-Alfreda part] of the S tory ; some

have disguis ’

d it under borrow’d N ames, but all of

’em were at a loss when

they came towards a conclusion, and have left it imperfect, fearing to

blemish the Character of the King : I found it difficult, but hope I havesucceeded so well as to make the last Act the best, and the Catastrophein that point not blameable ; the Husband receives his death from anotherhand, whence it appears j ust, yet accidental.” This would seem to

imply that R avenscroft invented the catastrophe ; but the word of a

R estoration dramatist can never be taken as final on that score, and

Rymer in his preface seems to point to an old source : “I must appealfrom the late Epitomizers, who make Edgar point-blank guilty o f

E thelwold’s Death, without any sufficient ground

“ from Antiquity.

”This

last clause is puzzling. Had Rymer forgotten the old chronicles ? Howeverthis may be, R ymer claims authority for his version, in

“the

Histories”. L angbaine ( 1 691 cd. ) refers to“The Annal s of L ove (no

author stated ) , and“Ubaldino, L e Vite delle Donne Illustri” for sources,

and these might throw some light on the matter ; but they are not

accessible to me.

404 Dutton

Durzo falls in love with Hillaria, a lady of the court . Thus

there are two minor strands of love-plottings,only slightly

connected with the main plot by the blood-relationship of the

characters . Complication is still gained somewhat at the

expens e of un ity,but not by the introduction of such utterly

foreign material as the Elizabethan playwright felt free to

use.

The un ities of time and place are strictly observed . The

action all takes place at the court, and consumes one day .

Some attention is paid to the principle of decorum— in regard

to the characters which are suitable to tragedy,and to the

qualities and traits these characters ought to manifes t . That

this was cons cious is evinced in the portion of the Preface al

ready quoted‘

,in which Ravenscroft states that he has bet

tered the character of the king, to conform to critical stand

ards . In general the participants in the action are of thatrank which decorum insists must grace personages in tragedy ;but the vulgar and rough Durzo would be condemned by the

strict neo-classicist in one word : low. Moreover, another neoclassical canon is violated when because of the nature of the

scenes in which Darzo takes part comedy is introduced intothe tragedy. Finally, bloodshed and murder are permitted tooccur on the stage, and the queen and Ethelwold die in the

presence of the audience.

In a word, Ravens croft’s play shows an advan ce in tech

n ique over its Elizabethan forerunner ; but on the other handit is still considerably removed from those standards , some

of which English dramatic critics had been setting up for

a hundred years . There has been progress toward “ regu

larity”,especially in regard to the un ities ; but not complete

attainmen t of it, even in externals . And in spirit the playis far from neo-classical , as will be seen when it is compared

with Rymer ’s play. Yet in all this , Edgar and Alfreda is

typical of its time.

When we turn to Rymer ’

s Edgar we come to a play dis

tinctly not typical , but interesting as an illus tration of what12 Edgar was licensed Sept. 13, 1 677 . The title page bears the date

1 678 . It was advertised in the Term Catalogues on N ovember 26, 1 677, sothat it must have been ready for the public soon after that time. Thatis, it appeared about the same time as R avenscroft

’s play. There is no

evidence to show that R er’s play was ever acted.


406 Button

terms during the ten hours of the play whereas Ravenscroft ’s

lovers meet and woo and agree to marry all within one shortday . Finally, in the choice oi. a subject for a masque, Rymer,following his announced theories

,is emphasizing patriotic

ideas , in contradistinction to the bombastic mouthings of

vaguely oriental potentates in the still popular heroic drama.

Rymer’s rigid standards are apparent not only in his treat

ment of the sub-plot and new material,but also in his manage

ment of the play as a whole. The unities of time and place

are strictly observed ; the place is Edgar’s court

,and at the

beginning of the play it is announced that “the time of the

Represen tation [ is ] from Twelve at Noon to Ten at N ight . ”

On the other hand,un ity of action

,a principle rather slighted

by neo-class ical critics in their zeal for the other un ities , is

likewise slighted in this play . The principle of decorum,

trans lated into the rules of court etiquette,is carefully fol

lowed . The illustrious characters,in their relations with each

other, have the utmost regard for place and precedent . 1 3 Due

heed is paid to the demands of poetic justice. Ethelwold’

s

s ins are vis ited upon his own head during the very progressof the play

,and

“nothing left to God Almighty and another

World .

” 1 ‘1

Measured by the rules,the play is weakest on the score

of probability. In spite of the previously noted indication

of Rymer ’s attention to this s tandard

,he has sometimes neg

lected it. F or example,it seems improbable that within the

ten hours of the play ’s duration news should be received, first

that Scotland has rebelled , and secondly that the people have

resumed their loyal ty. Of course, this might be accounted

for on the ground that the first message has been delayed ;but it is not thus explained away in the play . Again ,

Ethel

wold ’

s action in bri nging his wife to court, when he is highly1“Profes sor L ounsbury (in Sha kespeare as a Drama tic A rtis t, p. 241 )

has pointed out that Rymer sins against his own precepts by permittinga woman to kill a man, though it is done decorously behind the scenes .

But if Rymer’s rule be consulted, it will be found to read that no woman

is to“ki ll a man, except her quality gives her the advantage above him”

(Tragedies of the L as t Age, p. and the woman who kills the man

is the queen .

Tragedies of the L as t Age, p. 26 .

Dramatic F ashions Illustrated in S ix Old Plays 407

interested in keeping her from the king ’s view

,is

,as Genest

has pointed out1 5

,highly improbable. To be sure

,Ravens

croft is guilty of a similar lapse,but he had not preached the

doctrine of probability as Rymer had. In this respect,then ,

Rymer nods at times—although not always .

In general,however

,the play is exceedingly regular

The difierence in spirit between a thoroughly neo-class ical

play and one possess ing merely a few of the external characteristics of regularity will be apparent if Rymer ’

s play be

compared with Ravenscroft ’

s . The emphas is in the one is

quite unlike the emphas is in the other. In Edgar the love

element is subordinated as much as possible to the tragic as

peet of the story . N ot the sentiment of love so much as the

accompanying misun derstandings receive attention ,in plot

and in sub-plot alike. As much as possible “all the soft

things , all the amours , the flowers and fleurets”,to quote

from Rymer ’

s criticism,are ban ished . Furthermore

,every

possible Opportunity is taken to emphas ize the features of

Edgar ’

s reign which appeal to the patriotic feelings,

1 6 instead

of leaving the love motif in unrelieved prominence. The

patriotic element is entirely lacking in Ravenscroft ’s play, and

the love, which is frankly emphas ized,is for the most part

either open or veiled sensual passion . One significant detail

may be instanced which corroborates this View . In Edgar

there is no scene in which the king makes his appointment with

Alfrid to meet in the bower ; in King Edgar and Alfreda theappointment is made in one scene and ratified in a second wi th

marked emphasis . Rymer is consciously avoiding “

gallan

tries ”. Ravenscroft is following the F letcherian and Resto

ration tradition,which revels in such gallantries ”

. Rymer

follows the neo-classic idea of restraint and austerity to the

point of frigidity ; Ravenscroft enjoys excess . The differencebetween Rymer ’

s play and Ravenscroft’

s shows the difference

between a play almost Wholly in harmony with the rules , andone which superficially meets some of their requirements , but

1 5 V ol. I, p. 223 fi'

.

1 6 In the“Advertisement

” inserted before the play, Rymer states

definitely that he has“chiefly sought occasions to extoll the English Mon

archy.

” H is choice of title : Edgar; or, the English Monarch, was not

haphazard.

408 Dutton

really is only in part regular. The comparison illustratesthe di fference between the so-called “ regularity”

of the plays

of the seventies , and genuine compliance with the demands ofAristotelian formalism .

Aaron Hill ’s Elfm'

d brings us to 1 710. The very title is anindication of a change in emphasis . The full title is Elfm

'

d

or, the F air Incons t /nt. That is,Elfrid is the central person

age. With Rymer,Edgar had been the chief character. With

Ravenscroft , Edgar and Alfreda divided attention . WithRymer, patriotic fervor is implied in the sub-title, The English Monarch . With Hill the attention is focused upon the

love-theme.

In the plot of Hill ’s play there is a tendency to revert to

the original story as found in the old song and in the chroni

cles . In these the catastrophe occurs at Ethelwold ’

s home andnearby ; so in Elfm

'

d the s cene is not at the royal court but at“Athelwold

’

s House. Edgar ’s wife, with whom he had

been furn ished by Ravenscroft and Rymer, disappears .

Elfrid is portrayed,not as submissive and loving

,but as am

bitious , and rebellious to her husband ’s plans of concealing

her beauty from the king. Besides these reversions to the olds tory

,Hill has in troduced other changes . Athelwold is fur

nished with a friend, Ordgar ; E lfrid with a sister,Ordelia.

The love affairs of Ordgar and Ordelia form the sub-plot .

Accompanying the king is Egbert , the villain ,who aids the

king in attaining his desires in regard to Elfrid becaus e herhusband

,Athelwold, is a rival in the royal favor, and a rival

whom Egbert actively desires to humble and remove.

The plot is simple. Bes ides the minor theme of the loves

of Ordgar and Ordelia,there is the main story of the king ’

s

arrival ; the attempt to pass Ordelia upon him as E lfrid, be

cause Ordelia is less temptingly beautiful ; the treachery of

Elfrid in revealing herself to the king ; the plotting of Egbertwhereby the king sends Athelwold away upon royal bus iness ,so that Elfrid may be obtained ; Ordgar

’s discovery of Eg

bert ’

s complicity,and his murder of the villain ; the return of

the suspicious Athelwold in time to discover his wife’

s guilt ;his murder of Elfrid ; the king

’

s murder of Athelwold, and

his immediate repentance.


410 Button

But it is in the treatment of the love theme that Hill difiersfrom both Ravenscroft and Rymer

,and departs most widely

from the demands of Aristotelian formalism . Love,in Hill ’s

play, is not the external, impossibly exalted love of the heroicdrama ; it is not the F letcherian passion ex emplified to some

degree in Ravenscroft ’s play it is not the restrained and sub

ordinated love of Edgar ; it is a transport of emotion . Love

is the very centre of the play . Ravenscroft had relieved the

central love theme by lighter treatment of it in the sub-plot.

Rymer had subordinated it to patriotism. Hill banishes every

th ing which will overshadow it, and leaves it in unrelieved

prominence. In the Very opening scene Athelwold enlarges

upon his love for Elfrid ; when the news of the king’s coming

is brought,and the guilty husband reveals the deceit of which

Elfrid was the Victim,love is the excuse :

Oh ! think on all the Arts , that L ove can use,

To gain the Object LOV ’d 1

1 ’ 1 7

Ordelia constantly preaches the power of love,in palliating

Athelwold’

s crime. The king,when he learns of Athelwold

’

s

gu ilt,cries

,

0 Love ! thy Power is uncontroul’

d indeed,If. it can make an honest Man a Villain .

” 1 8

N ear the close of the play Athelwold laments ,“I had been hones t

,had not Love seduc

’d me ! ” 1 9

An d the king concludes the play with the lines ,“And oh ! may this Example serve to prove,He treads on dang

’

rous Ground,who walks on Love.

And this love which dominates the play is in some of the

characters sensual,in some idealistic , in some marital , but

always serious,pass ionate, and emotional . Hill ’s course in

locating the action not at the royal court but at Athelwold’s

home is significant . The outward pos ition of the characters

does not interes t him their inner feelings are to form the sub

j ect of his play. The emphasis is upon the emotional through

out, and one can imagine the audience weeping in sentimental

sympathy as Ordgar weeps over his dying friend .

1 7 E lfrid, 1 710 edition, p. 7.

18 E lfrid, p. 93.

1 11 Ibid., p. 43 .

Dramatic F ashions Illustrated in S ix Old Plays 41 1

The play is typical of the change in dramatic fashions sincethe time of Ravenscroft . The neo-cla-ssical rules seemingly

triumphed ; in externals Hill ’

s play is almost as “ regular ” as

Rymer ’

s own . But side by s ide with the tendency to admitthe validity of the ru les , there grew up an interest in the

sentimental , the emotional,which affected much of English

literature,and which so influenced the drama that plays super

ficially“ regular ” were in essence as much opposed to the neo

classic ideas of restraint and rule as could well be imagined .

At the time when E lfm'

d appeared this sentimen talist influence

was particularly noticeable in comedy, but it made itself felt

in tragedy,too, culminating twenty years later in the do

mestic tragedy of L illo . The peculiar significance of E lfm'

d

lies in the distinct trend it shows toward this developing domestic tragedy. The characters are not, indeed , middle-clas s

citizens , but their rank is of superficial import ; and the back

ground of domestic life, and the plot with its emotional stressand melodramatic excess , smack decidedly of the typical domestic tragedy.

It is all the more interesting, therefore, to see Hill , two

decades later,at a time when domestic tragedy was culminat

ing in George Barnwell, realign himself with a differen t school

of dramatists . This he did in his Athelwold

Although Athelwold deals with the same material as Elfm'

d,

it is not a revision of that play, but in reality a new one.

The main theme is the same, but the point of View is changed

the s cene is different , the characters , save for the three chiefones

,are new, the incidents are new,

and the whole effect is

ditterent.

The changed point of View is significant. N ot the domesticaspect of love

,but love in regal trappings

,is what Hill now

strives to portray . The scene is not a secluded residence, but

the royal abode at Chester. Curiously enough,the ep isode of

the eight rower-kings , used by Rymer , is here once more em

ployed to aid in the impression of splendor and power that the

royal presence should give.

This would seem to indicate a reversion to those neo-classicalideas which Rymer had voiced in his criti cism and had

‘

fol

lowed in his play. Indeed Athelwold is fairly representative

1 2 Button

of the neo-clas s ical plays of its own time. But in it neoclassicism is not so all-pervading as in Edgar, and

,though

more effective than in Elfm'

d, is still modified by traces of sentimentalism. Furthermore, this neo-classicism is to be attri

buted not so much to the influence of past English criticism as

to the great vogue in England of contemporary French drama.

Athelwold belongs to a rather numerous group of Englishplays of the time formed after French models .

This French influence seems especially clear in the case of

Hill,who was hims elf a translator or adapter of some of Vol

taire’

s plays . Thus,after having early flirted wi th the de

veloping domestic tragedy in his Elfrfid, Hill turned to Frenchmodels and wrote Athelwold at the very time when domestictragedy was to attain its mos t noteworthy development .Hill ’s preface contains hints of his attitude. He refers

s lightingly to his early play as“an unprun

’d Wilderness of

Fan cy,

” lacking judgment . He mentions respectfully the

rules ; but evidently they are not all-sufficient. Under theirsway,

“mysterious Dullness , and the dry Pride of Commenta

tors ” have injured the drama. This is not quite equivalent toRymer ’

s sublime faith in his rules . Knowing Hill ’s experiencewith French plays

,one suspects that he regards example as

rather more weighty than precept .Of course

,many of the rules are followed, just as they are

in the French models . The characters are all royal or illustrious . Due regard is paid to decorum

,that is

,to court etiquette.

Athelwold will not for a moment draw his sword against hisroyal master. The unities of time and place are observed,though not so much stressed as in the earlier play. And

, es

pecially significant, there is no bloodshed on the stage. Frenchexample here accomplishes what English precept has failed toeffect .But Hill , though following neo-classical models , does not

entirely escape from his earlier habit of sentimentality. Un

due and unmotivated emotionalism man ifests itself at times .

Athelwold wavers between mistresses in an impossible butsentimental manner. Ethelinda, whom Athelwold has de

ceived and deserted, makes repeated and mawkish advances

toward reconciliation ,in a way to rejoice all lovers of tears .


414 Button

A number of mid-eighteenth century plays hark back not toFrench but to Greek models . Oi these Mason

’

s E lfrida is a

somewhat extreme representative. N ot originally written forthe stage,

20 it follows some of the conventions of the Greek

drama to a degree rather beyond that possible to other more

practical playwrights whose work belongs in this group . Yet

it will serve to illustrate the tendencies of its companion plays,

which themselves were less thoroughly adapted to stage pre

sentation than even the poorer plays of England ’s great

dramatic period .

Forming a preface are five“L etters ” dated Pembroke

Hall, which analyze and defend the distinguishing features of the play. They throw light upon Mason

’s standards

and aims . He announces that he will follow Greek models .

But he is not seeking “to give an exact copy of the ancient

drama”. He will only pursue the ancient method so far as it

is probable a Greek Poet,were he alive, would now do

”

which leaves considerable room for variation from classicalmodels . The unities are prescribed by “ good sense”

as well as

by an tiquity,hence they are observed . But to meet the demand

of the times,ancien t precepts are ignored in the choice of a

theme, and“a s tory was chosen

,in which the tender

,rather

than the noble passions were predominant , and in which even

love had the principal share Again a certain deviation isnoted : the characters “

as nearly approach private ones,as

tragic dign ity would permit ” . The emotions are to be aroused“ rather from the impulse of common humanity

,than the dis

tresses of royalty and the fate of kingdoms ”. That is

,Mason

is consciously deviating from his chosen models and he defendshis deviations on the plea that modern condi tions demand them .

It is to be noted that the changes are in the direction of the

practices of domestic tragedy,which was still influential in

English drama. The third and fourth letters defend the intro

duction of the chorus in the usual way : it is conducive to the2° It first appeared in print in 1 7 5 2 . It was altered for the stage

by Colman in 1 772 , and by Mason himself in 1779 . The original versionis the one used here. The others offer no essential variations . In themsome flowery passages are missing, and the play is divided into five acts .

However, the songs of the chorus afi'

ord suflicient indication o f di

vision in the 1 7 5 2 version .

Dramatic F ashions Illustrated in S ix Old Plays 41 5

preservation of the unities and afiords opportunity for conveying moral reflections . The other letters discus s various neo

class ical doctrines of les s significance. To sum up : the impor

tant features of the introductory letters are, on the one handthe announcement that Greek models are to be followed, and

in particular that the Greek idea oi: the chorus is to be intro

duced ; and on the other hand the in timation that the author isto depart from classical precedent by us ing romantic love as a

main theme, and by portraying the private life rather thanthe public activities of his characters . From all this one is

led to expect that Mason’

s play will conform neither to Greekpractice nor to rigid neo-classical precept . So far as Greek

models are to have any influence at all, they will affect formrather than spirit .

The play fulfills these expectations . The chorus is ever

present , and plays its part , somewhat incongruously, it mustbe noted

,in so English a story. But through it Mason gains

what he desired to gain :“ poetic ” ornamentation ,

and a clearpresentation of the moral to be drawn from the various events

of the plot .

Furthermore,the play is rigidly simple. The characters are

few in number . The old story is followed more closely thanin any of the preceding plays

,and there is absolutely no

sub-plot . Even the earliest play of the group dealing with theEdgar story had sought some relief from the simplicity of themain plot

,and the res t of the plays had gained complexity

through the introduction of new characters and new interests ,but Mason discards all such measures , and presen ts the mamevents without any accessories

,comic or serious . The story as

found in the old song is followed save in two not Very importan t respects : Elfrida ’

s father is the means of uncoveringAthelwold

’s guilt to the king

,Elfrida being an unwilling

instrument ; and at the very end, Elfrida gives no hopethat she will eventually marry the king . The changes bothresult in making Elfrida a more sympathetic character—a

result which it was desirable to attain,s ince around her the

tragedy was built . Simplicity,and the employment of the

chorus ; these characteristics , and the accompanying introduction of somewhat conventional “

odes ”,show what Mason

41 6 Dutton

meant by following Greek models . They di stingui sh the playfrom its predecessors .

In addition ,it posses ses certain neo-classical characteristics

already familiar. The comic is barred . No murder is com

mitted on the stage. The unities are strictly observed . De

corum in the sense of etiquette is never forgotten . Poetic

justice is wrought , and is dri ven home by the chorus . In one

of the choral odes it is proclaimed that heavenly defense will belacking “

ii guilt,if fraud

,has stained your mind” 2 1 Then

Athelwold,the perpetrator of the fraud, is killed, and Semi

chorus ”s ings , 2 2

As Truth directsSo only shall we act. This day has shewnWhat dire effects await its violation .

And Elfrida ’s father

,Orgar, also in accordance with the de

mands of poetic justice, is success ful as long as he seeks to

frustrate Athelwold ’s Villainy

,but frustrated in turn when

he would give play to his own ambition and make his daughtera queen against the demands of propriety.

These features are neo-classic . On the other hand, there arepresent , as the introduction has led us to expect, elements of

s till a difierent nature. The characters in the main are shown ,

not in their royal or noble capacity, but as human beings . The

emotions stressed are intimate and personal . As in Hill ’s first

play, the fact that the scene is not at the royal court but at

Athelwold’s home is s ignificant of the difierent emphas is .

Patriotism is incidental . The emphas is is upon the private andthe personal . The fact that love designedly forms the maintheme of the play is a second characteristic which may be re

garded as a concession to the dramatic tas tes of the time. But

the emotionalism of love is not so exaggerated as it was inHill ’s first play. There is not so much soft sentiment . The

ideals of domestic tragedy, while still powerful enough to in

fluence this professed follower of Greek models , have somewhatlost their first force.

Mason’

s play, then ,seems influenced in form by its Greek

models ; it possesses many of the conventional neo-classical

1 1 1 75 2 ed ., p. 5 0.

21 Ibid . , p. 76 .


SPEN SER ’S POWRE HYMNES

In the green period of his youth, a s tudent at Cambridge orfresh from its halls , wrapt in the sweet spell of Ficino

,of

Benivieni , of Cas tiglione, Spenser composed two hymn s inhonour of love and beauty . Many years later, in sobered

middle life, he wrote two other hymns , of heavenly love and

beauty, and, with abundant apology for the lewdness ”of the

earlier hymns,published the four.

These four hymns have recently been interpreted by a

brilliant American scholar1 as the culminating express ion of

that doctrine of romantic love which so fas cinated the neo

Platonic mystics,the first two hymn s describing the earlier

s tages in the progress of the ideal lover toward the attainment

of perfect love and beauty,and the las t two hymns complet

ing the interpretation .

It is the purpose of thi s essay to put forth the View that ,while the earlier hymns are in complete accord with this neoPlatonic theory of love, the later hymns are based upon Calvinistic doctrines that are squarely opposed to it and that admit

of no compromi se.

According to Castiglione,who gives the clearest and most

direct explanation of the neo-Platonic doctrine,reducing to a

clear pros e statement a theory of love that appears elusive andhalf-veiled in the poetry, there are six stages in the history of

the ideal lover, marking his progress from the moment when ,

a woe-begone mortal,he feels the promptings of love at the

s ight of a beautiful face to the time when , kindled by the mostsacred fire of true divine love, without veil or cloud, the soul

views the wide sea of pure divine beauty, and receives it untoherself .

First of all, the lover beholds a beautiful woman and loves

her . Then , to alleviate the distress of separation he impresses

her fair image upon his mind . Straightway, however, hisimagination idealizes the face and she appears to his mind

fairer than she really isf7 In the second stage it is thisidealized face that the lover loves . But

,once bent on the

1 Professor J. B . F letcher, A S tud in R enaissance MysticismSpenser’s ‘

Powre Hymnes, ’ P . M. L . A . 45 2 .

Spenser’s Powre Hymnes 41 9

5?quest of beauty, the true lover knows no stay. So anon , stlmu

lated by this idealized image of his lady,he comes to form an

image of a face which is , as it were, the sum of all loveliness ,a combination of selected charms . In the language of Castig

lione : “Besides these blessings (oi beholding the idealized

face) the lover wi ll find another much greater still , if he willemploy this love as a step to mount to one much higher ; whichhe will succeed in doing if he continually considers within himself how narrow a res traint it is to be always occupied in con

templating the beauty of one body only ; and therefore, in

order to escape such close bonds as these, in his thought he willlittle by little add so many ornaments , that by heaping all

beauties together he will form a universal concept , and willreduce the multitude of these beauties to the unity of that

s ingle beauty which is spread over human nature at large. In

this way he will no longer contemplate the particular beauty ofone woman ,

but the un iversal beauty which adorns all

bodies ”.

2

When the lover becomes fully aware that this concept of

universal beauty is primarily the product of h is own mind, herealizes that beauty must be an inhe

‘

i'ke

'

nt part of the soul,and ,

the passion for beauty growing apace with each fresh activityof the spirit therein ,

he now joyously contemplates beauty as

he finds it within himself , quite unembarrassed by any remembrance of the sens es . So long as he had before him the image

of a woman , even though it embodied the un iversal beauty of

womanhood, he could not discern beauty with complete clear

ness,because the phantom bearing some resemblance to the

substance,the shadow of the senses rested thereon . But now

the veil of sense is entirely dissipated in the rays of the pure

sun of beauty . Again in the words of Castiglione : “Then the

soul devoted to the contemplation of her own

substance,as if awakened from deepest sleep , opens those

eyes which all possess but few use,and sees in herself a ray

of that light which is the true image of the angelic beauty communicated to her .

”3 This contemplation of beauty within thesoul is , then the fourth rung of the ladder which leads from

2F ourth book of the Courtier, 67, tr. by L . E . Opdycke.

3 1bid., p. 304.

420 Padelford

love of phys ical beauty to the lofty mansion where dwells theheavenly, lovely and true beauty which lies in the inmostsecret recesses of God.

”

Now the same impulse which hitherto inclineda

the lover to

universalize the beauty of woman, impells him tohniversalize

that abstract beauty which he discovers within hims elf, and he

feels out after and discovers that encircling,all-inclusive

beauty of which he had before recognized but partial and sub

ordinate manifestations . N o longer does the soul contemplate

beauty in her own particular intellect,but she looks forth

,en

raptured and ravished by its splendor,upon the vast sea of uni

versal beauty.

The beauty of a particular woman, the idealized beauty of

the same,the universal beauty of woman

,beauty an inherent

part of the human spiri t,beauty all-encircling

,identical with

divine love,wisdom

,goodness . Such

,is the progress ion .

Last stage of all,the soul, burn ing with the sacred fire of

true love and yearn ing to unite herself with so great beauty,actually becomes identified therewith , incorporate in the life ofGod.

Such a doctrine,presupposing an inborn excellence in hu

man ity,accepting the senses and even exalting them as aids to

the spirit and recognizing a natural progression in the at

tainment of the divine life, such a doctri ne is strictly Catholic .It could only have been formulated in a society permeated withCatholic thought and feeling.

This attitude towards the natural man marks the funda

mental difierence between the Catholic discipline and the

Calvinistic . While the Calvinist regards the natural and the

spiritual as irreconcilably opposed, and permits the one to ex is tonly at the expense of the other, the Catholic accepts both thenatural and the spiritual as gifts of God, though because it istemporary and its pleasure of a lower order, he recognizes thatthe one gift is less precious than the other . The Catholic appreciates that the senses may ,

and often do, suffer corruption ,

but while aware that the senses are thus of the earth , earthy,he also appreciates that they ass ist one heavenward , inasmuchas they ofier a language wherewith God can make his thoughtspartially known to man ,

and are an indi spens able medium in


422 Padelford

In the Hymne in Honour of Love the first of the four,

the attraction of beauty for the lover and the effect of thepassion of love upon him are explained. While the lower animals multiply through lust , man is prompted by divine inspiration , and he therefore seeks beauty

,which is heavenly in

originBut man that breathes a more immortal mynd,N ot for lusts sake, but for eternitie,

Seeks to enlarge his lasting progenieF or, having yet in his deducted sprightS ome sparks remaining of the heavenly fyre,H e is enlumined with that goodly light,Unto like goodly semblant to aspyre ;

Therefore in choice of love he doth desyre

That seemes on eart h most heavenly to embrace,That same is Beautie, borne of heavenly race.

F or sure of all that in this mortall frame

Contained is , nought more divine doth seem,

Or that resembleth more the immortall flame

Of heavenly light, than Beauties glorious beame.

The attractive power of beauty being so great,L ove

,the im

perious boy , shoots his arrow from the lady ’

s eyes and causes

great suffering to the lover,but only to test the lover ’

s loyalty

and worth . Lust cannot stand this test,but true love can .

F or the sincere lover,

S uch is the powre of that sweet passion,That it all sordid baseness doth expel] ,And the refyned mynd doth newly fashionUnto a fairer forme, which now doth dwellIn h is high thought, that would it selfe excel] ,Which he beholding still with constant sight,Admires the mi rrour of so heavenly light,Whose image printing in his deepest wit,He thereon feeds his hungrie fantasy.

We are thus found to be in the familiar atmosphere of the

neo-Platon ic doctrine of love,though only the first two stages

of the progression are given : the attraction of a fair face for

the lover,and his idealization of its beauty

In the“ Hymne in Honour of Beautie in addition to these

first two, the third and fourth stages are presented. After ex

plaining that love is ordained in heaven ,and that the sincere

Spenser’s F owre Hymnes 423

lover consequently does not love the first pretty woman thathe sees , the lover

’

s advancement in the appreciation of beauty

is thus explainedBut they, which love indeede, looke otherwise,With pure regard and spotlesse true intent,Drawing out of the obj ect of their eyesA more refyned forme, which they presentUnto their mind, voide of all blemishment ;Which it reducing to her first perfection,Beholdeth free from fieshes frayle infection.

And then conforming it unto the light,Which in it selfe it hath remaining still,Of that first Sun

‘

ne, yet sparkling in his sight,Thereof he fashions in his higher skillAn heavenly beautie to his fancies will ;And

,it embracing in his mind entyre,

The mirrour of his owne thought doth admyre.

As . in the preceding hymn,there is first the beautiful face

and then the idealization of it. But not content to s top here,

the mind of the lover now discovers the un iversal type, the

pure idea, of which the beauty of any particular woman is buta porch lamp

,and then ,

quickened to a partial remembrance ofthat divine beauty which it had erstwhile known in heaven ,

the eager mind turns its eyes inward and admires the Vision of

heavenly beauty thus at length discovered within itself. Withthi s stage, the second hymn concludes .

So much is Spenser an exponent of the neo-Plantoni c doc

trines in this hymn that he does not hes itate to say that beauty

in woman is brought from heaven by the soul, and that , being

an immortal thing,it is absolutely in capable of corruption .

However much the flesh may be defiled, beauty is ever intact

and res ides beyond the reach of taint .Had Spenser remained satisfied with his neo-Platonism,

when he returned to the theme of the hymn s in later life hewould simply have completed the expos ition so well begunand have described the conduct of the soul as it gained a

larger and larger understanding of the beauty which is God,

and, crowning stage of all, its rhapsodic union with the divine

life. As a matter of fact , he turns his back upon all that hehad so feelingly expounded in the firs t two hymns , repeatedlydi sclaims any faith in earthly love as an aid to soul develop

424 Padelford

ment and expounds a new sequence of s tages,based upon Cal

vinistic dogma, for the heaven -bent progress of the soul .

In the“ Hymne of Heavenly Love is shown the surpass ing

love of Christ, the great Lord of Love,in his merciful re

demption of mankind,and the reciprocal beatific growth in

love of the man who gives himself wholly to the love of Christis portrayed . One must fully and freely give hims elf to Christ ,love him with all his heart and soul and mind

,completely re

nounce all other loves . If one does so, a consuming passion forChris t will take possession of the soul, entirely absorbing one

’s

life,leaving room for delight in no earthly thing . One will

never wish to turn his eyes from a s ight so sweet and amiable.

If one thus experiences this passion for Christ , the Vision of

theman-Christ will be replaced by theVis ion of the God-Christ ,the

“Idee of Chris t :

Then shall thy ravisht soule inspired bee

With heavenly thought farre above humane skil,And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainly see

The Idee of his pure glorie present stillBefore thy face, that all thy spirit shall fill

With sweete enragement of celestial love,Kindled through sight of those faire things above.

Just as in the neo-Platonic system the lover, after idealizingthe beauty of the one he loves

,comes to perceive the perfect

type of beauty in woman ,as it were the model resident in the

thought of God, or , as Plato would have it, the Idea of femin

ine beauty, so if the love oi. Christ , who became a man and

died for mankind, takes possession of the life, one will come tosee his full perfection ,

will replace the picture of Christ mov

ing among men and dying on the cross,with the Vision of

Christ as one with God ; will see Christ as he essentially is ,see him as God sees him . Then will the soul be filled with the

divine love and will experience that felicity which is vouchsafed to those who enter into this mystic relation with God.

The approach to God through Christ , as explained in this

hymn,not only does not grow out of the experience of earthly

love, but is absolutely antagonistic to it. Calvin istic theology

is not _ imposed upon a superstructure of neo-Platonism ; one

does not advance from love of woman and adoration of her

beauty to the love of Christ and adoration of God. The natural


426 Padelford

farre above these heavens which here we see,

Be others farre exceeding these in light,N ot bounded, not corrupt, as these same bee,

But infinite in largeness and in hight,Unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotlesse bright,That need no Sunne t

’illuminate their spheres ,

But their own native light farre passing theirs .

But because the eye cannot visualize splendor so far . surpassing anything the earthly eye can behold

,one must try to form

some conception of the majestic beauty of God through re

flecting upon the goodness of God as revealed in his handiwork

The meanes, therefore, which unto us is lent

H im to behold, is on his workes to looke,

Which he hath made in beauty excellent,And in the same, as in a brasen booke,To reade enregistered in every mookeH is goodnesse, which his beautie doth declare ;F or all thats good is beautifull and faire.

Thus mounting upon wings of contemplation ,humbled

with fear and reverence, let the soul approach the awful

splendor of the majesty of God, where he s its upon the throne

of truth,built upon etern ity, from which proceed pure and

bright beams , which encompass his presence with glorious light ,while

in his bosom Sapience doth sit,

The soveraine dearling of the Deity,Clad like a Queene in royall robes .

Whosoever is allowed to look thereon,bereft of sense, and

transported with delight , experiences the ecs tatic bliss of

heaven .

This is that supreme experience which the neo-Platonicmystics felt to be the ultimate reward of the true lover. But

though Spenser has acknowledged it to be the fruits of the

contemplation of God ’

s handiwork, the poet is careful not to

make any mention of beauty in woman as a part of that handiwork . When he enumerates those works they are all the

wonders of external nature, on the one hand, and God’s truth ,

love,wisdom,

bliss,grace

,judgment

,mercy and might , on the

other . Indeed the beauty of woman is actually a painful and

mortifying memory as mun dane and misleading as love of

ostentation or riches

Spenser’s Powre Hymnes 427

And that faire lampe, which useth to inflame

The hearts of men with self-consuming fyre

Thenceforth seems fowle, and full of sinfull blame

And all that pomp to which proud minds aspyre

By name of honor, and so much desyre,

Seemes to them baseness, and all riches drosse,And all mirth sadnesse, and all lucre losse.

It is a false beauty that mi sleads with flattering bait ” and

leads one to pursue vain deceitful shadows .

’

How great the contrast between this attitude toward woman

’s beauty and that of Castiglione, who, in the moment of

ecstasy,could still hark back to beauty in woman as that whi ch

inspired the soul to seek for the beauty which is God ; Cas

tiglione, who, in that moment, saw things celestial and terres

trial held by one common bond , and in beauty“the sweetest

bond of the un iverse”:

“Thou art father of true pleasure, of

grace, of peace, of gentleness and goodwill, enemy to rusticsavagery and sloth —in short

,the beginning and the end of

every good . And s ince thou delightest to inhabit the flower

of beautiful bodies and beautiful souls,and thence sometimes

to display thyself a little to the eyes and minds of those whoare worthy to behold thee

,methinks that now thy abode is

” 5here amongst us

In thus recognizing the contemplation of nature as an

avenue of approach to the Divine, Spenser is in complete ac

cord with the doctrines of Calvin . The metalic sharpness andhardness of Calvin ’

s legalistic thinking is in marked contrastto the hymns , suffused with mysticism as they are, but the doc

trinal basis is the same. It would almost seem that Spenser

had turned fresh from the Institutes ” when he penned the

stanzas which speak of God ’s universal revelation of hims elf

in nature

These unto all he daily doth display,And shew himselfe in the image of his grace,A s in a looking-

glasse, through which he mayBe scene of all his creatures vile and base,

That are unable else to see his face,

H is glorious face ! which glistereth else so bright,That the Angels selves cannot endure the sight.

15 Ibid ., p. 306 .

Padelford

The meanes , therefore, wh ich unto us is lent

H im to behold, is on his workes to looke,

Which he hath made in beauty excellent,And in the same as in a brasen booke,To read enregistered in every nooke

H is goodnesse, which h is beautie doth declare,F or all that’

s good is beautiful l and faire.

Compare with these stanzas the following sentences from

Calvin’

s chapter on the revelation of God in the creation and

continued government of the world : “His essence, indeed, is

incomprehensible, utterly transcending all human thought ;but on each of his workes his glory is engraved in characters so

bright , so distinct , and so illustrious,that none

,however dull

and illiterate, can plead ignorance as their excuse”.

6

It is imposs ible to contemplate the vast and beautiful fabric as it extends around

,without being overwhelmed by the im

mense weight of glory. Hence the author of the Epistle to theHebrews elegantly describes the Visible worlds as images of the

invis ible (Heb . X I. the elegant structure of the world

serving us as a kind of mirror,in which we may behold God,

though otherwise invisible”.

7 “ Hen ce it is obvious,that in

seeking God,the most direct path and the fittest method is , not

to attempt with presumptive curios ity to pry into his essence,which is rather to be adored than minutely discussed , but tocontemplate him in his works , by which he draws near, becomes

familiar,and in a manner commun icates himself to us

As Augustine expresses it, (in Psalm CX I. V ) , since we

are unable to comprehend Him,and are, as it were

,over

powered by his greatness , our proper course is to contem

plate his works,and so refresh ourselves with his goodness ”

.

8

Spenser is also in accord with Calvin in believing that ,though God ’

s glory is thus displayed in nature to all humanity , only the elect are able to profit by it. Spenser says that

only those who are chosen of God ’s grace may behold his

Beloved,Sapience

,and that she will bestow her riches only

on those who are worthy to receive them,and again and

again in the book from which quotations have already been

6Ibid ., 5 , 1 ; tr. by Henry Beveridge .

7 Ibid.

8Ibid . , 9 .


430 Padelford

The indebtedness of the last two hymns to Platonic and

neo-Platonic writings is , to be sure, very great ; hardly astanza that is not reminiscent of Plato

, of Ficino,of Beni

vieni , or of Bruno. But these Platonic and neo-Platonicorigins are construed to the satisfaction of Calvinism and

disciplined to its creed. F or example,it is highly significant

that though the passage in which Spenser argues that to en

j oy heavenly beauty one must begin by observing the beauties of the lower world, is based upon Plato

,Spenser con

fines himself to the beauties of external nature,while Plato

speaks of the beauties of humanity, the fair formf wh1ch

lead one to contemplate the fair minds which they contain,

the fair minds which lead on to the contemplation of the

products of the mind,and so from stage to stage.

This interpretation of the hymns is exactly in accord withthe language of the dedication ,

in which the poet speaks

disparagingly of the first two hymns and professes to offer

the last two as a corrective : Having in the greene timesof my youth

,composed these former two Hymnes in the praise

of Love and Beautie,and feeling that the same too much

pleased those of like age and disposition,while being too

vehemently caried with that kind of affection ,do rather sucke

out poyson to their strong passion ,than honey to their hon

est delight,I was moved by the one of you two most excel

lent Ladies,to call in the same. But, being unable so to doe,

by reason that many copies thereof were formerly scattered

abroad,I resolved at least to amend , and, by way of re

traction , to reforme them,making, instead of these two

Hymnes of earthly or naturall love and beautie, two otherof heavenly and celestiall.

”If Spenser still honestly looked

upon beauty in woman as a natural introduction to the most

exalted experience of the soul,this dedication is certainly

a fine bit of insincerity .

Nor does the theory that the two later hymns represent

the more advanced stages in the neo-Platon ic progression fin d

support in the “ Faerie Queene”

. The“ Faerie Queene

”pre

sents the ideals of chivalry as modified to conform to a court

society,and its indebtedness to Castiglione is abundantly evi

dent, but if, on the one hand , it avoids that deliberate self

Spenser’s Powre Hymnes 431

seeking which at times mars the consistency of The Court

ier and impairs it as a Christian document , it avoids , on theother, the transcendentalism of Bembo. The knights of the“ Faerie Queene

” do not gain knowledge of the mysteries

of divine beauty and love at the expense of the gentle ladieswho first inducted them into the noble passion . In the econ

omy of the“ Faerie Queene”

neither sex is sacrificed for

the spiritual advancement of the other man must realize

himself through the inspiration of woman ’

s love, and woman

herself through the inspiration oi. man ’s . The ideal society

is that in which men who are wise, warlike, personable,courteous and kind” 1 1 love women who are courteous , kind ,gracious and modest

,and whose beauty is enhanced by the

flower of chastity, transplan ted from heavenly gardens ;1 2chastity, which crowns the heads of ladi es with coronalssuch as the angels wear1 3 and which causes their praise to

be hymn ed by saints in heaven .

”1 Moreover,though love

leads the base to sloth as well as to sensuality,the noble it

prompts to high and worthy activity,sufiering no idleness ,

F or love does alwaies bring forth bounteous deedsAnd in each gentle heart desire of honor breeds .

1 5

This mutual dependence of men and women is the basisof the allegory of love in the

“ Faerie Queene”

. Marinell,

gently nurtured in purity and shielded from the society of

woman ,is not a normal man until his indifference is sup

planted by love of F lorimell ; F lorimell, preeminent in chasti

ty , virtue and beauty,1 6 is yet a forlorn figure, assailed as

she is by the rough love of the loutish youth,by the Violent

rapine love of the fisher, by the subtle,ins inuating love of

Porteus , and too timid and fearful to tell friend from foe,

1 7

—a pathetic figure until she finds safe harbor in the protectIII. 4. 5 .

12 I I I . 5 . 5 1 - 5 5 .

1 3 I I I . 5 . 5 3.

I I I . 8 . 42 .

1 5 II . 1 . 49 .

I II . 5 .

III. 4.

432 Padelford

ing love of the s elf—reliant Marinell . And, to pass by the

minor characters , Britomart and Artegall, around whom the

love allegory is built and to whom the other charactersserve as foils

,find in each other that affection which satisfies

the heart and that s tability and sense of values that hold one

to high and assured achievement . Spenser is careful to

make it clear that for both Artegall and Britomart the love

of the other was the one thing needful for full self-realization .

Britomart is an ideal expression of the renaissance woman,

feminine in affection,masculine in judgment and in strength

of will . She possesses the delicacy of F lorimell, without

her timidity ; the s trength of Radigund, without her boldness and bourgeois vulgarity ; the chastity and elevation of

Belphoebe, without her austerity and aloofness ; the charmof Amoret , without the ardency

,all too apparent , that was

ever arousing pas sion in men . Britomart is a character of

beautiful balance. Yet it is the love of Artegall that givesfocus to her character . Similarly

,Artegall, the acknow

ledged superior of other knights,has not complete mastery

of himself until Britomart becomes enthroned in his life ;before this he is unable to withstand the fascination and the

intrigues of Radigund ; after it, he cannot be tempted by

the superior charms of Duessa ; before this he is inconstant

in the pursuit of his quest , the relief of Irenee ; after it, he

Went on his way ; ne ever howre did ceaseTill he redeemed had that L ady thrall .

The Faerie Queene in short,shows the equal worth

of men and women and their mutual dependence. Love in

spires men to brave deeds and large endeavor, and women

to acts of gentleness and deeds of mercy. Through love theyfind themselves socially . The Faerie Queene” lays em

phasis upon the life of action,and the life of contemplation

is not made an end in itself, but rather contemplation serves

to make the life dynamic .

Though the Faerie Queene‘

then,is a noble presentation

of courtly ideals,it does not support the neo-Platon ic theory

that love leads the lover away from and beyond the beloved .


434 Jef ersen

QUEEN ANNE AN D QUEEN ALCESTIS .

Chaucer ’s Prologue to the L egend of Good Women has

long had its riddles requiring solution . The question most

discussed recently has been that of the allegorical interpretation of Chaucer ’

s fervid worship of the daisy and of hi s

devotion to the mythical heroine, Queen Alcestis . In 1 890

Ten Brink advanced the theory that both the daisy and

Alcestis were intended to represent Queen Anne. This viewwas generally accepted until Professor Lowes challenged itin Since that time the question of the identification

of Queen Anne with Alcestis and the daisy has been muchdiscussed and argued pro and con .

2 When we read versionB 3 for internal testimony

,we are indeed somewhat be

wildered with the array of evidence that can be gathered

on both s ides of the case. It is almost paradoxical , as the

following summary of some of the arguments will show.

We shall first review the arguments for identification ,and

then those against it. Our final purpose is to ofier a solu

tion which attempts to reconcile to each other the conflicting

groups of arguments .

4

First of all on the side of identification,we have conclus ive

proof that. Queen Anne was in Chaucer ’

s mind when he

wrote the Prologue. L ines 496-7 tell us that the L egend ofGood Women was to be presented to her in her palace at

Shene. Secondly there is described in the Prologue a queen ,

much like Queen Anne, although she bears the name of the

1 Publieations of the Modern L ang . A 8 8 . of America, XIX, 5 93 fi'

.

2 Compare the argument of Professor Tatlock in The Development

and Chrono logy of Chaucer’s Works , pp. 102 ft ; of Professor Kit

tredge in Modern Philology, VI , 435 if ; and of Professor Moore in

Modern L anguage R eview, VII, 488 11 .

3 In this article, I approach the question of identification fromthe standpoint of version B, since the priority of that version overversion A , thanks to Professor L owes and Professor Tatlock , seems to

be generally accepted. All references, therefore, will be to versionB, un less otherwise stated .

‘ In what follows , I am indebted to Professor R oot for certainsuggestions, arising from work in a graduate class conducted by

Queen Anne and Queen Alcestis 435

mythical heroine Alcestis . She is young, beautiful , merciful ,and an exemplary wife. These are all characteristics of the

living Queen . In the next place Alcestis in the Prologue is

identified with the daisy, just as ladies then living, wereidentified with that flower in the margaem

’

te poems of

Chaucer ’s distinguished French contemporaries , Machault ,

Froissart, and Deschamps .

1 To be identified with the daisy

was the kind of honor which would be particularly pleasingto Queen Anne. She was young and presumably a lover of

fashion . Symbolism by flowers was one of the fads of the

time,as is attested by the prevalence of the flower and leaf

balades . An introduction of a margaem’

te poem into the

English court by Chaucer, one of the court poets ,2 would

attract general attention . In a poem,presented to her , per

haps written at her express command, if we may believe Lyd

gate,

3Queen Annemight well expect to receive the chief honor.

Everyone, who had intelligen t interes t in such matters,would

be asking who the flower was , for we need not suppose thatthe fourteenth century Englishman was less likely to makeconjectures than we are today .

The View that Queen Anne was meant to be identified

with the daisy gains additional confirmation in an examina

tion of lines 84-96, the lines which Mr . L owes shows to have

1 One of the achievements of Mr. L owes in the article above citedis to elucidate the prevalence

‘

of these poems .

2 See the article by Mr . Kittredge on Chaucer and some o f his

F riends” in Modern Ph ilology, I, 1 - 18 ; and also Mr. Tatlock’s pre

sentation of Chaucer’s connection with the court, in Chaucer Chronology,op. c it.

, pp. 108-9 . The mere facts that Chaucer wrote the Parlemen tof F oules to celebrate the betrothal of R ichard and Anne, and thatthe L egend is to be presented to the Queen, go a long way towardindicating the relations of Chaucer, as a poet, with the royal family.

3 cf. the Prologue to the F all of Princes .

This poet wrote, at the request of the queue,A L egende, of perfite holyn esse.

”etc.

F or references, in which the value of this allusion has been discussed,see Mr. Tatlock

’s Chronology, op. ci t , p. 1 1 1-2 . If this be only a

conj ecture of L ydgate, based on internal evidence from the Prologue,it is none the less interesting as the conj ecture of an Englishman

almost contemporary with Chaucer.

436 Je[ferson

been borrowed from the F ilostrato of Boccaccio.

1 The latter

wrote the passage in honor of a living lady. But Chaucer

uses i t to honor a lady through the niedium of the flower .

He refers wi th almost passionate fervor to the daisy as his

light, the mistress of his wits , the gu ide who leads him in

this dark world, his lady sovereign,his earthly god. It

would seem absurd for Chaucer to lavish such extravagant

homage upon the pale figure of a long forgotten mythicalheroine

,like Alcestis . Chaucer

,staid and forty-five, would

become a visionary, a chas er after moonbeams . Moreover we

must not disregard the transition which later leads to the

dream . Al cestis has not been introduced as yet. She is

distinctly a figure of the dream . We should hardly expect

Chaucer to make Alcestis the guiding star of his life herein the waking day in the field.

After reading this passage, if we go on in the poem,we

find another, which not only tends to confirm the impression

of Queen Anne’s identification with the daisy, but also in

duces the belief that Queen Anne is to be identified withthe lady of the dream as well . The dr eam has begun ,

and

a lady has been led in by the god of Love. She is not

mentioned here by name. Chaucer merely alludes to her

as“a quene

”The specific name Alcestis is not in

troduced until much later in the poem . Chaucer thus de

scribes the effect made on his dazzled eyes . He says,

“Ii men

were to seek over the earth,they could not find a creature

one-half so beautiful as she. (241 -6 ) Now Queen Anne

was not only on the earth,but

,what is more, she was in

Chaucer ’s mind, for he dedicates the poem to her . This

would seem a sorry compliment to Queen Anne, when she

came to read it, if Alcestis and Alcestis alone is meant.

These words are s carcely out of Chaucer ’s mouth , before

he is moved to express the same sentiment in the form of a

balade. (249-269 ) The burden of his song is,that the

approaching lady is fairer than all other fair and peerless

ladies . She may disdain them all. N o name has been men

tioned. Yet Chaucer seems not to doubt who the lady is .

1 See the article of Mr. L owes above cited, pp. 6 18-626 .


438 J6flerson

Then over and above these facts,when we conclude the

Prologue,we are left with this inquiry in our minds : How

would Chaucer have told the s tory of Alcestis among the

number of the legends , if it were encumbered with the

allegorical trappings which connected it with the name of

Queen Anne ? It would have been embarrassing to attempt

to carry on the allegorical interpretation throughout the rather

dismal events of. the life of Alcestis . But Chaucer, once

having identified the two queens,would have found it a

delicate matter to disentangle Alcestis from the double

identity. So the conclusion is that the identity never ex

i sted, for originally he certainly intended to incorporate thetale in the L egend .

1

When we recall all that has been said above,it will be

seen that a fairly good case can be made either for or against

identification . There is only one path out of the maze, and

that is to make the explanation as shifting, as self-adjust

able, as the identification itself seems to be. And after all

the problems of the Prologue are not the problems of mathe

maties . If Alcestis = the daisy,and Queen Anne= the daisy,

it is not necessary to assume that Queen Anne= Alcestis = the

daisy,for ever one

,and inseparable.

It will be noted that the arguments,based on internal cv

idence, for identification come almost entirely in the early

part of the poem ; the arguments against it, in the latter

part . We have reached by a deduction from the distribu

tion of the passages on which the arguments above are based,from the scattered allusions to the daisy throughout the

poem and from considerations soon to be enlarged upon ,th e

following conclusions . Till the beginning of the dream,

Chaucer ’

s worship of the daisy in the field does honor toQueen Anne and Queen Anne alone. Then from the be

ginning of the dream (210) until the first mention of

Alcestis by name is a neutral zone, where Queen Anne,

Alcestis and the daisy merge one into the other by an almost

indefinable and dreamlike proces s . We feel the residual in

1 The three arguments above discussed are all urged against iden

tification by Mr . Kittredge in his article in Modern Phi lology, VI ,435 if.

Queen Anne and Queen Alcestis 439

fluence of Queen Anne from the first two hundred and ten

lines and the forecasting of the influence of Alcestis to come.

In the last one hundred and fifty lines of the Prologue,

Alcestis stands practically alone. Queen Anne en ters only

in so far as the daisy enters and that is only to a very small

extent. During the course of the poem, the prominence of

Queen Anne and the daisy gradually diminishes to the

vanishing point , whereas the prominence of Alcestis cor

respondingly increases .

A solution for such an interpretation of the Prologue is

not to be found by emphasizing the study of it as a type

of allegory . It is entirely possible to conceive that Chaucerwas not deeply interes ted in allegory for its own sake but

that he was using it rather as a tool for accomplishing twodefinite purposes which he had in mind , the first to com

pliment Queen Anne, the second to introduce the L egend .

F or these two purposes Chaucer had on hand two types of

allegory ; for the first purpose he had the machinery of the

marguem'

te poems wherein ladies were complimented throughthe medium of the daisy , for the second, he had the con

ventional dream allegory wherein he was enabled to unfold

the graceful fiction of the“ good Alceste”

who enjoins upon

him the task of writing his poem. It was his business,after

he had decided upon the two themes of the Prologue,to

couple them together as smoothly as possible. If he could

so unite them that the one would lend aid in heighten ing

the effect of the other,so much the better . If he could make

anything out of the fact that both Anne and Alcestis weregood and beautiful queens

,well and good ; he would take

whatever advantages accidentally happened to arise. And

so well has Chaucer succeeded in blending his two motifs,that one is hardly aware that the earlier part of the poem,

and the prolonged adoration of the daisy through almost

two hundred lines is really irrelevant in the sense that it

contributes nothing essential to the introduction of the

L egend of Good Women . It now becomes our purpose to

find more exactly the respective parts which Queen Anne

and Queen Alcestis play in the Prologue.

440 Jefierson

We‘

take a step toward the truth , if we can realiz.

e thatall which pertains to the daisy relates primarily to QueenAnne. The Prologue is to be read with the thought in mindthat Queen Anne is the daisy. When Alcestis first appearsin the dream

,she looks like a daisy. (214-25 ) She wears

daisies in her crown . Her hair is covered with a fret of red

gold above which the white crown rises . She is clad in a

garb of green . Why ? Merely to suggest the flower whichChaucer worships and to honor it further. When Alcestis

and the god of love first accost Chaucer,he is still kneeling

over the real daisy ; (308-321 ) the living Alcestis s tands

above him. Cupid fiercely rebukes Chaucer, the scoffer at

love,for profaning the flower with his presence. Cupid alludes

emphatically to the daisy as “ myn owne flour”

. From Cupid ’

s

point of view,depending on his knowledge of events soon

to be disclosed, the allusion may be to Alcestis , but Chaucer

and the reader have no reason for differen tiating the flower

over which he is now kneeling from the one originally introduced. Indeed it is almost as if Chaucer and Cupid had

a misunderstanding as to whom the flower really did re

present. When Cupid says what business have you near my

flower , Chaucer, evidently seeing no reason why he shouldnot be near it

,replies with some spirit ‘

A nd, why, sir,

’

quod I,

‘

and hit lyke yow ? ’

Then we pass on in the poem. Any classical learningthat we may happen to have receives somewhat of a shock .

The god of Love, incidentally to explaining who the lady

really is,casually d S the remark that she

,Alcestis , had

once been turned into a daisy He does not ex

plain the why nor the wherefore of this transformation ,nor

does he explain how,once having been turned into a daisy,

she was there, a living queen . The only explanation for

these surpris ing mysteries is to be found, it would appear ,in an old book that lies in Chaucer ’

s chest . That old book

has never been discovered . N owhere in the whole range

of classical or mediaeval literature has evidence ever been

found that Alces tis underwent such a transformation .

1 So

1 See Professor N eilson’s Origins and S ources of the Court of L ove,

p. 145 .


442 Jcfierson

without one. We shall consider that the allegory afforded

him material , in his hands more or less molten,so that he

could shape it for his own purposes .

Let us examine first the balade Wherein is found the out

burst of praise of the approaching queen . It runs, some

what as follows hide your tresses , Absolom. Ester,lay

down your meekness . Isould and Helen,hide your beauty ;

for my lady comes that all this may bedim”. Chaucer says

“ my lady”,as to him

,in his enthusiasm for her beauty, it

can be only one person , the lady of his own adoration .

Really,as later becomes apparent

,he was mistaken . It

was Alcestis who approached . But he does not realize thisuntil events begin to develop . Then the recognition gradu

ally dawns on him. In line 432 he for the first time hearsthe name Alcestis She speaks of herself as “

Alceste, why

lom quene of Trace He is puzzled . The first time he has

an opportunity to speak to her thereafter , he takes ad

vantage of the Opportunity to explain that he does not know

who she is . After thanking her for her intercess ion in his

interest with the God of Love,he says

And yeve me grace so long for to live,That I may knowe soothly what ye be,That han me ho lpe and put in this degree. (45 9-61 )

After Chaucer has finished,Alcestis replies in a speech

which concludes with the injunction for Chaucer to present

the book that he is to write to Queen Anne at Shene. Then

the God of Love, at this allusion begins to smile :‘Wostow

’

,quod he,

‘wher this be wyf or mayde,

Or queno,or countes se

,or of what degree

,

That hath so litel penance yiven thee.

’

(499-5 01 )

Chaucer,now

,stoutly ins ists that he knows nothing about

her . Cupid explains to his satisfaction . Finally Cupid , inhis parting words

,calls Chaucer ’

s attention to the fact that

he had neglected to put the name of“Alceste in the

balade. ( 5 37-41 ) Chaucer had indeed forgotten her . In

a list of noble heroines of old, Alcestis should have beennamed along with Ester

,Isould

,Helen

,and the rest. Cupid ’

s

rebuke shows clearly that in his mind, at least, the“my

Queen Anne and Queen A lcestis 443

lady of the refrain meant not Alcestis but some unnamed

lady of Chaucer ’s devotion . In this rebuke of Chaucer by

the God of Love, we see Chaucer, the literary craftsman ,

using a device to stress the idea that he, in his dream,had

thought the lady upon her first approach Queen Anne.

1

It is to the extent just described , we believe, that Chaucerhas blended the two Queens . Whether we accept the ex

planation as the true one, depends on whether we can thinkof the Prologue as a record of human feeling, involving thepride of the young queen of twenty and Chaucer ’

s ability

to comply gracefully with her wishes , or whether we thinkof it as an elaborate example of the dream allegory, whereinlittle weight may be attached to what is actually said and

done.

BERNARD L . JEPPERSON .

Princeton University .

1 It is true that the belated recognition occurs also in version A ,

and there Chaucer’s failure to know who the lady is, might be con

sidered even more surprising than in B, because in A her name has

been mentioned from the very first. There is never any doubt in A ,

therefore, but that the lady is Alcestis . Mr. Moore, in a footnote

to his article in the Modern L anguage R eview,VII , p. 489, has urged

this point to prove that the belated recognition of Alcestis in B has no

bearing whatever on Queen Anne. But let us consider for the moment,

with Mr. Tatlock, that version A is a revised form of the Prologue,wherein all allusions to Queen Anne are removed on account of the

intense grief of R ichard I I at‘her death. According to thi s view

Chaucer goes back and substitutes “Alceste in the places where

“my lady” previously appeared . Let us suppose , then, that in thisprocess of revision he finally comes to the lines in B where he has

described himself as learning who she really is . ( 5 07-5 76 ) He finds

himself confronted with a difficulty. It is the very explanation of

her identity by the god of L ove which has enabled Chaucer in B to

introduce the connecting link between Alcestis and the daisy. It is

here that Chaucer has explained that Alcestis herself had been turnedinto the daisy. And this link is necessary to make plausible his introduction of the daisy motif in the first part of the Prologue. R atherthan invent a new device for connection, he is willing to let an in

consistency stand in the revised form. H ere it may be said that Mr .

Tatlock’s explanation for the revision of the Prologue accounts most

admirably for the changes made in A .

444 Nitze

REVIEWS AND NOTES

GERTRUDE SCHOEPPERLE ,TRISTAN AND ISOLT

,

a study of the sources of the romance, Frankfurt a/M.

and London ,1 913

,2 vols . XV 5 90pp .

Miss Schoepperle’s Tristan recommends itself to the reader

by two admirable qualities : the clarity of the exposition andthe sobernes s of the judgments expressed . In the presentins tan ce this fact is doubly valuable. As is well-knownArthurian literature abounds in pitfalls for the unwary

,and

the Tristan story in particular, owing to its subjective nature,

lends itself readily to discussions that are often more interesting than profitable, at least from the point of View of scholarship . It was no easy task to follow the conflicting views of

Paris , Bédier and Golther , and yet not lose sight of the theoryof development Which a fresh s tudy of the facts appeared towarrant . Other explanations of the Tristan may in timeprove to be nearer the tru th

,we ourselves still prefer that

of Bédier in many respects,but certainly no explanation thus

far produced is more exhaustive in detail or more diligentlyset forth .

The study is divided into seven parts , as follows : 1 . an

introduction ,which also serves as a kind of summary s ince

the Views of other scholars are not only criticized but correctedin accordan ce With the author ’

s own results ; 2 . an outlineof the Eilhart version— and we may say at once that Mis sSchoepperle regards this version as closest to the originalestm

’

re, mentioned by various authors as their source ; 3. a

defense of the written source thus established ; 4. the courtly

(courtm’

s ) nature of the latter, and its date ; 5 . the populartraits in it and its narrative techn ique ; 6 . an examinationof the estoire for traces of Celtic tradition ; and 7 . the con

elusion . There are five appendices dealing with various as

peets of Miss Schoepperle’

s theme, such as the abductionmotif in other forms , the problem of the second Isolt , theevidence of tragic love tales in Old Irish , etc. A general indexand an index of names facilitate the use of the volumes forreference. A noteworthy trait of the publication is the at

tractive dress in which it appears ; for this , however, a

European and not an American publisher is responsible.

According to Miss Schoepperle the Tristan story is essen

tially of French origin ; that is , the written source mentionedby Bé roul is a French work . Herein she agrees with Bédier .

But“its nucleus is a Celtic elopement story”

; herein she

agrees with Paris,at least in the View that the theme is Celtic .

Yet Eilhart, and not Thomas , or a combination of the two,

comes closest to representing this estoire, as Bé roul calls it.


446 N itze

To allow,as Miss Schoepperle would, that such may have

been the cas e in the version preceding the estoire but not in

the estoire itself , is equ ivalent to saying that Thomas uncon

sciously reverted to the primitive form of the tale, and thathardly seems probable. So that granting that Bédier hadexaggerated the formal excellence of the estoz

’

re,his theory is

nevertheless j ustifiable that in regard to the potion Thomas,

and not Bé roul-Eilhart, represents the estoire.

As for the second question,Miss Schoepperle in her de

s ire for certainty again seems to strain a point . “The

series of in cidents ”,she says

,

“ from the return from the forestto the death of Tristan must have been composed under theinfluence of the courtly literature Which came into vogueduring the time of Eleanor .

”This may be true. But the

natural conclusion is that the series in question is late and

probably did not belong to the estm’

re in its original form.

In the first place, the continuation of Bé roul does not givethe same series . Secondly

,Golther argues plausibly that

both the continuation and the Bé roul proper (Miss Schoepperle does not solve their relationship ) go back to

“eine und

dieselbe einheitliche Vorlage, namlich den Urtristan [ourThirdly

,the ambiguous oath is not in Eilhart .

Fourthly,Miss S choepperle herself grants that

“the early

part of the poem implies the condemnation of adultery,

whereas in the narrative that follows the return from the

forest the fundamental conception is courtly and unmoral . ”

Since the shift in attitude is clear, the point at issue is wheredid the change occur. Miss Schoepperle, who is committed tothe weaken ing of the love potion ,

says in the estoire. We

should prefer to say in E ilhart’

s and Bé roul’

s source, bas edon the estoz

’

re.

This preference has various advantages in its favor. It

would explain the epic traces in Bé roul’s compos ition and

style.

1 It permits us to regard the estm’

re not necessarily as

a well-balanced, finished literary product but at least as havingan essential unity of its own (Bé dier II, 1 7 5 , in har

mony with the first part of Bé roul and Eilhart. This unitydoes not imply the condemnation of adultery ”

as such . Nor

is that at all necessary : in the His toria regum Brittaniae

(1 135 ) Arthur himself is the product of an adulterous marriage, and other cas es can easily be cited. The unity cons istsrather in the fact that Tristan is Mark ’

s closest kin ,his

sister ’

s son ,and , yet is fated to love Mark ’

s wife : herein liesthe human tragedy of the situation . This tragedy, we take it,was the theme of the estoire, as indeed it is the theme of the

Diarmaid and Grainne, where Diarmaid is the nephew of‘ Cf. Muret, pp. LXVI if .

R eviews and Notes 447

Finn . Had the estoire been written contemporaneously withThomas and the second part of Eilhart

’

s source, it seemsto us improbable that this trait would have pers isted , as it doesin Bé roul, in all its poignant vigor. 2Another advantage of thus s iding with Bé dier is that

Thomas ’statemen t as to the veracity of his source need not

be arbitrarily rejected, as Miss S choepperle is compelled todo. F or Thomas adheres to the pathetic interest in Markeven after the return of the lovers : thus Mark

,more than

anyone else, rejoices in Isolt ’s acquittal by oath and by the

ordeal of fire ; when the lovers are ban ished again (this banishment Thomas interprets idyllically ) it is Mark who

,con

scious that he has wronged them,shields Isolt ’

s face with a

glove ; and when finally Mark ’s hopes are shattered in the

garden scene his wavering nature craves witnesses , who whenthey arrive, arrive too late, for Tristan has fled and the kingstands confounded . Thus

,in the constan t interplay of

affection and suspicion Mark ’s attitude in Thomas is con

s istent throughout— an attitude,we believe

, ,which reflects the

donné es of the source,where the family tie was of the strong

est, and where the“ pé rip é ties sont subordonn é es au deve

lOppement des caracteres une fois posé des personnages ”

(Bé dier , II, Cf. Bé roul, 2170:3 “Dex ! tant m ’

amas tmes oncles chiers

,Se tan t ne fus [s ] e a lui mesfet !

”

Finally,Thomas and MS . 103 of the Prose Romance appear

to us closer to the estoire in the inciden t of the second Isolt ’s

lie as to the sail . Her motive there is jealousy . Eilhart,even if Miss Schoepperle be right (p . 96 ) in thinking he believed the second Isolt jealous although not desiring Tristan ’

s death,actually gives

_no explanation of her motive. It is

“ hazardous ” —to use a favorite word of Miss Schoepperle’

s

- to

d

assume that the estm’

re was similarly vague or s0phisti

cateIn making these strictures on Miss Schoepperle

’s work we

do not wish to detract from our admiration of it. To treatthe Tristan story adequately would require an intimateknowledge

,linguistic and literary, of a vast body of literature.

Where Miss Schoepperle is at her best is on the Celtic sideof the problem : in the quantity of parallels she has gatheredin this field her study is without a rival . We now know

2 Compare Crestien’s Cligé s

'

, where the uncle is no longer a friend buta usurper who has sought to take the nephew’

s legal inheritance. Thomasoccupies a middle position : Tristan is still Mark’

s sister’s son but theinterest in his tragic guilt is replaced by the scholastic concept of the idealstruggle between the hero’

s volonte’

and his dé sir. In the Prose R oman ceMark is an abject Villain . The significance o f this I hope to elaborate

shortly. Thomas does not depart from the setting ; he simply enlarges it.

8 See Modern Philology IX ( 1912 ) 312 .

448 Nitze

that the Tristan theme is Celtic ; of that fact there can be

no doubt . Where her work will doubtless need revision is

in the field of Old French . F or example, the late date (shortly before the las t decades of 1 100) assigned the estoire willhardly win many adherents : tone

,language

,concepts and

treatment would all indicate the approximate date given byBédier . To speak of the

“moral insouciance”

of such a

mas terpiece as F lamenco is somewhat naive ; and the remarkson p . 1 77 as to the second Isolt appear likewis e ill-advised .

As to matters of detail , we may note the following : p . 37

Gawain ’

s plan ”should be compared to similar incidents in

E rec, Ivain and Perceval, cf . Mod . Phi l. IX 294,note ;

p . 77,note, far from not daring to efface the love potion

entirely”Thomas represents its influence as lasting ; p . 83

Bé dier’s

“sub-source y

”seems to us probable ; p . 108 in view

of the historical Bledhericus can Breri be dismissed as a“ pleasant literary p . 1 1 4 on Bernart de Ventadourand Eleanor see further Jeanroy ,

Rom. XXXVI1 1 6 ff. and F . Bergert

,Beihefte 46 1 2 ; on the Italian

(and Span ish ) Tristan see the interesting s tudy of G. T.

N orthup,R omaniaR eview III 1 94 if ; p . 132 the Chev

alier da [not cm] Perroquet was edited in 1 896 by B euchenkamp , its real title is Chevalier da Papeyan ; p . 143 the

“Bas

tun”in Chiew efoil might be compared to the primitive mes

sage-stick ”,cf. A .W. Howitt, N ative Tribes of S outh-EastAus

tralia, 678-710; p . 1 5 1 on Lanval and the group of as sociated“ lais ”

see now T. P . Cross,Kittredge Anniversary Papers ,

1 913, pp . 377 fli ; p . 1 5 7 on the proverb qui m

’aime il aime

mon chien ”see J. Ulrich , i fS . XXIV 29

,1 97 ; p .

1 78 on the broken-couplet see F . M. Warren,Modern Phil

ology IV 662 ; contrary to Miss Schoepperle we believe (with Paris and Golther ) that Clige

’

s is subsequent toThomas ; p . 21 5 on the

“sleeping arrangements ”

in Irish and

Old French see E lliott-S tudies , 1 9-5 1 ; p . 25 4 on Camilleas a type of beauty see Eneas, 3980 ff. and Fara]

,

Rom. X L 1 83 it ; p . 277 on Matriarchy in Arthurianromance see Mod . Phil. IX 291 -322 and Farnsworth

,Uncle cmd N ephew in the Chansons de geste, 1 913,

pp . 217 if ; p . 299 on the“Tobiasnachte

”see W. Hertz ’

s

trans lation of Pareival and K . Schmidt , Jug Prim e N octis ,1 881

, passim; p . 299, note, Gargeolain may belong to the

same “ wort-sippe as Gurgalon ,Garlan , Garlagon , etc .

,cf .

FMLA . XXIV 408 ; p . 45 2 Miss Schoepperle mistakes Crestien ’

s purpose in Clige’

s (only in the Charrete, the

S an [ s ] of which Mary of Champagne gave him, does he fail touphold conjugal love) ; cf . Clige

’

s , 2304 :“Par mariage et

par enor Vos antraconpaigniez ansamble. Einsi porra, si


45 0 Morgan

Classen ,without working through the whole treatise, can

do so by reading the introduction , the third section of Part I,

and the final summary.

It has long been felt by scholars that the freedom withwhich different vowels alliterate in the old German ic poetrywas anomalous , in view of the rigidness of the rule regardingconsonant alliteration . To explain this anomaly

,three

principal theories have been advanced . The glottal stoptheory assumed that every accented initial vowel was preceded by the glottal stop , as in modern German

, and thatit was the glottal stop which alliterated

, so that the vowelsound was negligible. The objections which lead Mr . Classen to reject this theory are that there is no evidence of the

existence of a glottal catch in old Germanic tongues,and

that so important a sound would surely have been given a

symbol . Some of the argumentation here is not wholly freefrom speciousness , and indeed Mr . Classen

’

s best serviceconsists not in his refutations of the old theories , but in his ownpositive contribution to the subject . He finds not many ob

j ections to the sonority theory, according to which vowelshave in common a greater sonorousness of. sound and hencecould resemble each other regardless of their individualquality . To this Mr . Clas sen diss ents : it is not true, heclaims

,that i is more like a than for example p is like b ;

on the contrary , the two vowels are never confused , thetwo consonants not infrequently interchanged . He is on

more congenial ground in his consideration of the thirdtheory, which claims that originally vowels as well as con

sonants had to be identical for the alliteration . But two

circumstances combined to break down this identity. In

the first place, vowel sounds are more subject to change thanconsonantal sounds , and consequently words which origin

ally could alliterate would in the course of time representfalse rhymes . Secondly, just as the two accents of the first

half-line could have either identical or different consonants ,so they could have identical or diiterent vowels ; lines with different vowels would help to break down the rule. To thesemight be added a third consideration ,

the relative s carcity of

words with initial Vowels : thus in the vocabulary of the

Heliand there are but four words with initial i capable of

alliterating .

To the third theory the principal objection is the out

standing fact that a large proportion of the vowel alliteration is wholly haphazard . Mr . Classen

’

s reply is that it isnot as haphazard as it seems , and devotes Part II to a

detailed study of vowel alliteration in order to ascertain the

Reviews and N ates 45 1

actual facts . F or this purpose lines with vowel alliterationare grouped into four classes : I, lines with text-identicalvowels ; II, lines with approximately identical text vowels ;III

,lines with vowels which become identical if traced back

into the older language ; IV ,lines with different vowels

which remain differen t when traced . The importance of

group III lies in the fact that , as we know,certain lines or

even groups of lines became traditional and were used bypoets widely separated in time ; hence the eviden ce of thisgroup is weightiest in the Edda

,so much of which was

transmitted in purely oral fashion ,less weighty however in

the Heliand and Beowulf .

Mr . Classen’s investigations deal with minor monuments ,

Beowulf entire, part of the Heliand, and four books of the

Edda,and his results show that “

under the most favourableinterpretation of the material , the percentage of lines withoriginally identical or approximately identical vowels is inevery case above 5 8

,and reaches in the Volundarkvipa,

74 in the Heliand, and in Beowulf Under the mostunfavorable interpretation ,

the lowest percentage is 38,the

highest 5 7 . Even this would be sufficient,I think

,to sub

stantiate Mr . Classen’

s claim of great probability for the

theory he supports,and he may be congratulated on having

Virtually settled a question of no little importance for the

theory of the old German ic alliterative verse.

B . Q. MORGAN .

University of Wisconsin

GENE'VIVE BIANQUIS ,

CAROLINE de GUNDERODE .

Ouvrage accompagn é de lettres in édites . Paris 1 910.

Felix Alcan X i 5 08 pp 8mo Francs 10

In her book on Giinderode, which was accepted as doc

tor ’

s thesis by the Univers ity of Paris , Mlle. G. Bianquis

gives us a thorough , intelligent and sympathetic study of

the life and work of this “ tragic Muse of German roman

ticism”,whose touching figure has exercised its potent charm

on many a writer ever s ince that fateful July evening of

1 806 when she put an end to her striving and suffering bystabbing herself to death with a dagger .

The First Part treats of Giinderode’

s life and gatherstogether into a complete picture the various studies whichhave appeared on the subject from 1 878 when Schwartz ,

45 2 Blau

Gunderode’

s first biographer, published his long article inErsch und Gruber ’

s Encyklopadie I Section Teil 89, to

1 903 when Euphorion vol . X brought R . Steig ’

s then latestcontribution to Giinderode. Of the three chapters the first(Anné es d

’Enfance et de Jeunesse. Savigny ) is based on

Schwartz , the second (Caroline et Bettina. Clément Brentano ) mainly on Bettine ’

s“Giinderode

”, the third and las t

(Grenzer ) on Rohde’s

“F r . Creuzer und K. von Giinderode

”.

From this , however, it must not be inferred that Mlle.

Bianquis’ work is merely that of a compiler

,which in it

self would be welcome. She has made a distinct advanceover her predecessors by the critical use of Geiger ’

s pub

lications as well as of the searching inquiries which W.

Ghlke has made into the authentic value of Bettine ’

s two

books bearing on our subject “Goethe ’

s Correspondence witha Child ”

and“Giinderode

”, (which latter work was trans

lated by our Margaret Fuller ) . And to the understandingof the last chapter she has brought a renewed study of

Creuzer’

s Correspondence with Giinderode,of which we are

given a complete edition in the“Pieces annexes ”

.

In passing I wish to point out the fact that in this bookon Giinderode written by one of her own s ex

, Creuzer faresbetter and

,we may say , receives more equitable treatment

than in the two essays based on Rohde’s publication , which

were written by two of the author ’s compatriots of the

“sterner sex

”,M. Cherbuliez in the Revue des Deux Mon

des février 1 895 and T. de Wyzewa Ecrivains Etrangers2nd Serie 1 897 .

F or the Second Part ,“D ’Oeuvre litté raire where Dr .

Bianquis had practically no predecessor except Busing inhis Berlin thesis 1 903, (

“Die Reihenfolge der Gedichte K . von

she has done excellent work not only by showing in detail how all the writings of the poet are truly partof a great confess ion ,

but by tracing the literary influences

which are reflected in the ideas and the content of her

literary productions . She establishes the fact that Gunderode owes her inspiration to the older Romanticists , especially to Novalis and Schleiermacher, and in general to thetheoreticians and philosophers of that school rather thanto its poets . Thence a certain conquering note, a fine as

surance and confidence, which prevails in the products of the

calmes t years between the early idyl , her love for Savigny,and the final drama, the tragedy of her love for Creuzer.

Then follows a period whose watchword is renunciation without apathy and finally that of an attitude of fatalism and

pessimism which pervade the last collection where the in

fluence of Schelling and Creuzer ’s symbolism is predominant .


45 4 Blau

Alessandra of Florence, Cecca, Olympia Morata serving himas examples ”

. But as a matter of fact the reference to

thes e learned but unfortunate dames occurs in a letter of

F eb . 6 . 1 806,while all the Latin passages in their correspon

dence belong to a later period,May 1 806. Creuzer , there

fore, is at first against Giinderode ’

s study of Latin but laterencourages it with pers istent sympathy .

Against Dr. Bianquis’

assertion (p . 72 ) that Creuzer suggests to his “ Friend”

the idea of a new poetry, at the

same time mystical and possessing a plastic beauty ”,we

have the explicit statement of Creuzer : Deine Poesie ist

mystisch eben darum ist sie nicht plastisch . (F eb . 20.

To hold Creuzer ’s teachings even in part respons ible for

Giinderode’

s readiness to die because he discussed the bacchicdoctrine that death is more blessed than life Jan . 23

,1 806

(see Bianquis p . 7 5 ) is hardly fair, for can we not tracethese moods of pessimism and misanthropy in Gunderode

’

s

life as far back as 1 799,and hasn ’

t she thought of starvingherself to death as early as the spring of 1 805

,when Creu

zer refers her emphatically to the teachings of her Pythagoraswhose central doctrine of practical wisdom is a dietetics of

body and life, which makes us obey N ature and yet standabove life ? (March 21

, (Preisendanz, see below ) .

S eckendorf’

s name appears as early as N ov . 1 805 (seeagain Preisendanz ) and again March 1 3

,1 806 as a poss ible

suitor for the hand of Giinderode. It is therefore not cor

rect to speak of Creuzer as being suddenly jealous of thisman who happens to pass through Frankfort , only a few

days before Giinderode’

s suicide. (p . There can be

no doubt that Creuzer hoped for some time that by Giinderode ’

s marriage to Seckendorf all entanglements could besolved ; he discusses , in fact , quite seriously— in cold blood,if you please— in Nov . 1 805 , the possibility of. this marriageand in June 23, 1 806 (Preisendanz) he again says : “Wenn

ich Dein Verhaltniss zu Seckendorf zu wiirdigen bemiiht war ,und ihm Gerechtigkeit widerfahren liess— insofern ich dachte,es sei wirklich etwas dabei , was zu einem fur Dich naturlichen

und schonen Ziel fiihren konnte, I hold no brief forCreuzer , this Romantiker im Schlafrock und Pantofieln ,

as

I should like to term him,but the points in which I differ

from the author,and which are backed by good testimony

cast a more favorable light upon the poor distracted loverwhose passion could never rise to heroic heights .

With regard to Part II, the following remarks suggestthems elves . The word of praise which Goethe is believed to


have had for Gunderode ’s Gedichte und Phantasien (p. 90)

is identical with the review in the Jenaische L itteraturzeitung , which Giinderode sent to Creuzer , who on his part readit to Clemens and Sophie Brentano and Savigny. And thisreview Steig has shown not to be from the pen of Goethe.

Page 1 38 reference should have been made to that ex

traordinary letter of Clemens Brentano which justly scandalized Giinderode. F or in this letter which is given on p .

47-48,we must see the inspiration of the speech of Eges tis

in the second act of N icator .

Passing over the somewhat slighting treatment whichSchiller ’

s influence receives—a poet for whom Giinderode

had a preference which Savigny would not forgive,as we

are told on p . 1 26 I should like to raise this question : Whyis only the literary influence of N ovalis given to explainthe poet ’

s“nostalgic de la nuit and her love of the soft

light of evening when we have the physiological fact of herweak eyes which forced her to spend many dreary hours ina darkened room and made her write her letters on greenpaper ? It is certainly a most significant fact

"

that one of

the few original concepts which Dr . Bianquis can point outin Giinderode

’

s poetry is found in these linesS ie schliessen blinzelnd ihre kleinen Augen

,

Geblendet von der Sonne hellem Schein . (p . 209 .

I come now to that part of Dr. Bianquis’book which it

ought to have been a special pleasure to announce and re

view,her edition of Creuzer

’s correspondence with Giinde

rode, covering pp. 247-492 .

The author was quite right in thinking that such an undertaking must be welcomed both for its biographical and psychological interest , as her own numerous references to it in the

chapter “Creuzer

” prove, and because it acquaints us withthe literary life of Heidelberg, then one of the strongholdsof the younger romanticists

,besides offering a

“ documenthumain of the first order for the life in a small strugglingGerman univers ity town in the beginning of the n ineteenthcentury .

In 1 896 Rohde could hold with some show of reason thatthe unabridged reprint of the correspondence was not war

ranted, but with the greatly increased interes t in theRomanticists things have changed and today such an editionis necessary. To see that Rohde was mistaken we need onlyto recall the remark of Steig who in reviewing Rohde ’

s ex

cellent book finds that the correspondence betrays a veryslight interest in what the circle of men and women

,in which

the lovers moved,was aspiring to and achieving intel

45 6 Blau

lectually . This was a—pardonable—misconception,but due

solely to the fact that Rohde had been content to give se

lections only . The complete edition tells qu ite a differentstory and shows us that the two lovers were not so exclusively centered in themselves as to lack a sympathetic understanding of the work done by others . F or here we find

under date of June 6, 1 805 , the reference to the“Wunder

horn ” collection of old German folk-songs,which Steig so

sadly misses,and we are also given an explanation for

Creuzer’s not knowing more about it— “

his informationcomes from his book-seller. Clemens he hardly ever sees

”.

Again under the 1 5 . of the same month we read : “Die Bren

tano war sehr krank Lange war ich n icht dort . Zuweilentreff ich Clemens und Arnim— called “

der Volkspoet”in

Oktober 1 805 — am dritten Ort”,immediately followed by

Abends . Die beiden waren wieder bei mir .

“S ie sass en

lange— zu lange. (F or he had no chance to read a letterhe had just received from Caroline) . Ich musste aus halten ,

obwohl ich unempf‘

anglich war fur Arnims heitere Scherze”.

Then there are references to Clemens’

s Ponce de L eon , to

Mereau’s

” plan of translating Fiametta of Boccaccio, to herwork on several old stories and to the fact that she has

,

com

pleted a poetic tale of a minnesinger , which Clemens owns in

ms .

,and a tragedy of an old poet Gryphius (Cardenio and

Gelinde) , both of which Creuzer judged well done. Finallywe learn that Clemens and his wife were asked to contribute to the “ Studien ”

.

The question now arises : Has Dr . Bianquis given us suchan edition of the letters as we had a right to expect ? The

answer must be an emphatic N o, and the proof is that KarlPreisendanz

’

s edition (s ee below ) has in the meantime shownus how such a task should be performed .

The edition of the corresponden ce was clearly an afterthought on the part of the author for— and here I mus ttouch upon the most serious criticism to be made on the

monograph— her references in the main part of the book are

with a very few exceptions not to her own appended edi

tion but to Rohde and the “ lettres in édi tes ”

We can grant the author that it would have been uselesspedantry to indicate what in her edition is new or differsfrom the text as edited by Rohde. But it is against themost elementary rules of s cholarly procedure to refer to se‘

lections and incomplete extracts when the complete text isavailable—available within the covers of the same book !To illustrate : On page 2 5 , n . 5 two quotations from letters

are given ,not according to the edition which appears in the


45 8 Doernenburg

plained, also some letters which exist only in copy insertedin short everything is done to make the edition a standardand final one.

MAX F . BLAU .

Princeton University, F eb . 13,1 914.

DAS WERK WILHELM RAABES VON HEINRICH

SPIERO.

Im Xenien Verlag zu L eipzig 1 91 3. Preis geh 3, geb . 4 M.

In seinem neuesten Werke hat Spiero wieder ein Gebietbetreten auf dem er s chon friiher edle F riichte gezeitigtdas der Raabe-Forschung . N icht als ob er auf diesem Gebieteiiberall selbstandig vorgegangen ,

der Raabe-Wissens chaftneue Wege und Ziele gewiesen hatte. Spieros Buch trafausgezeichnete Vorg

'

anger . Otto Gerbers schones Werk :Wilhelm Raabe. Eine Wii rdigung seiner Dichtung, L eipzig,1 907

,obwohl hier und da an Schematismus und pedantischer

Trockenheit leidend und in man chen seiner Folgerungen Ver

fehlt und iiberholt, ist in seiner tiefschiirfenden Gedankenanalyse noch immer eine ergiebige Fundgrube fiir den ,

der

s ich ernstlich mit Raabe bes chaftigen will . Was aber Gerber fehlte : das tiefe Einfiihlen in Raabes Eigenart , das feineGehor fiir die Untertone einer vergeistigten Gedankenkunst

die,um his in ihre feinsten V er

'

astelungen hinein verstandenz u werden , eine gleiche Welt und L ebensanschauung unbed ingt voraussetzt , ersetzt Wilhelm Brandes Buch : WilhelmRaabe. Sieben Kapitel zum Verstandnis und zurWiirdigungdes Dichters . Zweite Aufiage,Wolfenbii ttel, 1 906, bei weitem .

Ein vertrauter Freund Raabes , selbs t schaffender Kunstler ,war es Brandes in j ahrlangem korperlichem und geistigemZusammenleben mit dem Dichter vergonnt, Blicke in dessenSeele zu tun ,

die uns deutlich ers cheinen lassen,wie sehr

der Mensch in Raabe den Kiinstler bedingt , wie unaufloslich

in seinem dichterischen Schaffen beide Naturen ineinanderfliessen . So bietet denn auch Brandes Buch eine Mengescharfbeobachteter charakteristis cher E inzelzuge, die sich zu

einem grandiosen Gesamtbilde der dichterischen Personlich

keit Raabes verdichten und uns aufs Intims te mit der Werkstatt des Kiinstlers Raabe bekann t machen . Ausschliesslichmit den Jugendwerken Raabes besch

'

aftigt s ich Hermann

Anders Krugers Buch : Der junge Raabe. Im Xenien Ver

lag . L eipzig,1 91 1

, eine recht fleissige Arbeit . So werden“die Chron ik der Sperlingsgasse

”,

“die Kinder von Finken


rode”,

“der F riihling und die kleineren Erstlingswerke

Raabes zum Gegenstande eindringlicher , analytisch ver

gleichender Studien gemacht . Besonders gilt dies vom“F riihling

”,dessen erste Fassung vom Jahre 1 85 7 mit der

zweiten ,vom Verfasser auf Drangen des Verlegers verball

hornten Bearbeitung, die 1872 erschien , gegeniibergestellt

wird,wobei Kriiger zu dem Ergebnis gelangt , dass der erste

“F riihling

”an Fris che, Technik und s icherer Linienfiih

rung der zweiten Fassung durchaus vorzuziehen sei . Auchsonst bringt Krugers Buch Viel Interessantes wie auch der

Raabe-Forschung Wertvolles : z . B . eine Bibliographie der

Werke Raabes wie auch die Raabe-L iteratur, die j a in den‘Mitteilungen der Gasellschaft der FreundeWilhelm Raabesvon Hans Martin Schultz weiter fortgefiihrt wird . An Einzeluntersuchungen mogen dann noch die Arbeiten Marie Speyerstiber Raabes “

Hollunderblii te”in

“ Deutsche Quellen und

Studien ”,Regensburg, 1 908 , undWilhelm Junges : “

WilhelmRaabe”

. Studien tiber Form und Inhalt seiner Werke, im

IX . Heft der Schriften der literarhistorischen GesellschaftBonn ,

1 910,erwahnt werden .

Julian Schmidt hat einmal ich glaube in der deutschenRundschau— von Dickens gesagt , dass man an diesem Dichternur mit dem Hute in der Hand” Kritik uben diirfe. Er

h '

atte das ebensogut von Raabe oder irgend einem anderenGrossen sagen konnen . Jeder fur edles Menschentum und

echte Grosse empfangliche Geis t wird dieser vornehmen Auffassung einer Kritik beipflichten mussen deren Bestimmung esist

,den Anfeindungen solcher L eute die Spitze abzubrechen ,

die sich kraft ihrer Stellung und angeblichen F ahigkeit be

rufen fiihlen ,ihren oft kleinen und verkiimmerten Mas

stab Dichtern anzulegen ,der

‘

en ins R iesenhafte s ich heraufreckende Gestalt jeder kleinlichen Kritikasterei einfach spottet. Ist es an und fur sich schon eine missliche Sache, dasGen ie in das Prokrustesbett schematischer a priori Ideen zu

sperren ,seine kiinstlerische E igenart zum Gegenstande oft

so fruchtloser Erorterungen zu machen ,so miissen solche

Versuche besonders da versagen , wo man einem solchenwie man es bei Raabe so oft getan und noch tut mit allerlei zuf

'

alligen Entgleisungen der Sprache und des Stils oderdem Vorwurfe der Verletzung der kiinstlerischen Syntese

kommen will , E inw'

ainde, die auf den innern Kern seinesWesens absolut keinen Einfluss haben

,nichts destoweniger

aber von“ berufenen ” Kri tikern als schwere kiinstlerische

Defekte dargestellt werden . In Raabes Fal le ist es nun von

Junge uberzeugend nachgewiesen worden,dass der Dichter

an mehr als einer Stelle solche von der Kritik geriigten

460 Doernenburg

Stilwidrigkeiten” bewusst als S timmun gsmittel gebraucht .

G‘reben wir iibrigens ruhig zu

,dass Raabes Komposition oft

recht fahrig ist, dass er im Heiligen Born ”wie in

‘N ach dem

grossen Kriege und in andern seiner “Kinderbucher

”,mit

welchem N ame der Dichter seine Erstlingswerke kurz undungerecht abfertigte, den Stoft durch allerlei romantische Zutaten interessant und etwas theatralisch aufzuputzen sucht .Naheres daruber moge man j a in Hans Martin Elsters ausge

zeichneter Studie : “Das Romanhafte bei Wilhelm Raabe”

imRaabe-Kalender 1 913 nachlesen . Raabes Kunst sprang ebennicht wie Pallas Athene fertig aus dem I—Iaupt des Zeus herVor . Der starke Most musste garen

,damit spater der edle

Wein desto herrlicher die Geister erquicke. Bezeichnend fiirdas lesende Publikum ist es j a, dass

“Die Chronik der Sper

lingsgasse”und

“der Hungerpastor” noch immer die starkste

Aufiageziffer aller Werke Raabes aufweisen . Raabes Kuns taber auf Grund der oftenbaren

,

M’

angel der genannten und

anderer Erstlingswerke einfach in Bausch und Bogen das Urteil zu sprechen ,

ist ebenso einseitig wie ungerecht . Schon“Die L eute aus dem Walde” zeigen deutlich , wie Raabe iiberdie Fehler seiner Jugenderzeugnisse hinaus w

'

achst . Wie es

auch Spiero S . 63 ausdrii cklich hervorhebt, dass hier Raabeeinen vollig realistis chen Stil gewonnen ,

Scharfe der Beobachtung , Treue bis ins Kleine, F ii lle des L ebens und der Anschauung , Zurii ckdr

'

angung romantischer Schweifereien und

tendenzioser Einfiechtungen gehorten dazu und wurden im

weiteren Aufzug des Werkes immer starkere Kennzeichen desreifenden StilsEtwas eigentiimlich aber beruhrt es wenn ein so hervorragender L iterarhistoriker wie R . M. Meyer dem DichterMangel an nationalem Gefiih l vorwirft

, eine Behauptung, dienur aus einer ganz oberfi

'

achlichen Bekanntschaft mit Raabehervorgegangen sein kann und j eder tatsachlichen Begriindungentbehrt . Ich verweise auf die sattsam bekannte Stelle S . 497

der“ deuts chen L iteratur des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts ”

Als alles daniederlag in Deutschland, da schloss er s ich , wieHeine es von s ich selbst sagt , als des deutschen Volkes guterN arr mit ihm ins Gef

'

angnis ein , trostete es , verwies es auf

die unverlierbaren Giiter,mahnte es , sich treu zu bleiben .

Als dann aber die Ketten sprangen und ein unerhorter Siegdeuts cher Tatkraft die Welt iiberraschte, da war Raabe fastso unzufrieden wie franzosische Ideologen ,

Michelet , Renan ,

die es der N ation von Traumern ubelnahmen , dass sie erwachtwar

”. Trotz haufiger Widerlegung nun Raabe selbst

sprach s ich spottisch gegen diese Unterstellung seines Patriotismus aus

,so 2 . B . in einem Briefe an Rob . Lange, den der


462 Doernenburg

auf demWesterfelde geschlagen und der eine und ungeteilteHeerschild am bliihenden Birnbaum bangt

,und ein Purpur

mantel feil ist um einen Zwillich und ein gutes Schwert”.

Dieser gros sziigige Optimismus Raabes sollte dann spater bei

Sedan herrlich in Erfij llung gehen . Und von der Grosse undMacht seines Vaterlandes iiberzeugt, ist es ihm ebenso gewiss

,

dass die deutsche E iche “noch durch di e Jahrtausende in Herr

lichkeit und Pracht griinen und bliihen ,und alle Volker unter

ihrem Schatten versammeln ” wird . Von der Chronik derSperlingsgasse

”bis

“ Has tenbeck dem letzten vollendetenWerke Raabes , fiiesst ein machtiger Strom nationalen Em

pfindens , dessen Breite und Tiefe Spiero iiberall uberzeugendnachweist

,wie auch erst kurzlich Otto Blsters Aufsatz “

Die

Freiheitskriege in den Werken Wilhelm Raabes”im Raabe

Kalender 1 91 4. Mit Vorliebe wendet sich der Dichter historischen Ereignissen zu die so recht dazu geeignet s ind, deutsche Treue, Glaubensmut und Tapferkeit auf die Probe zu

stellen und ihren bleibenden Wert zu beweisen . Naheres dar

iiber moge man besonders in dem vorhin erwahnten Auf

satze Otto Elsters nachlesen,ich mochte hier nur an den

todesmutigen Kampf der Stadt Magdeburg gegen den Kur

fii rsten Moritz von Sachsen im Jahre 1 5 5 0 erinnern ,dem

Raabe in “Unseres Herrgotts Kanzlei” ein ewiges Denkmal

gesetzt hat. In diesem Werke, sagt Spiero S . 5 3“ bricht das

keusche, kraftige, und wie selbstverstandliche nationale Gefuhl Raabes schon mit der ganz reifen Aussprache spaterer

Jahre hervor” . Durch das “Odfeld

” rauscht der F liigelschlag der gross en friederizianischen Zei t un d mitten in denZeiten alter deutscher Bundesmi sere

,alter deutscher Klein ~

staaterei findet Raabe im “Eulenpfingsten

”das feine Wort

“Es ist doch der hochste Genuss auf Erden

,deutsch zu ver

stehn”S . 1 1 6. Der vereinten Beweisfiihrung Spieros und

Elsters geguniiber bricht R . M. Myers Behauptung, dassRaabe seine Deuts chen nur als die Stillen ,

als die Demiiti

gen liebe,gerade so

,wie Wolfgang Menzels feurigerer

Patriotismus sie um Gotteswillen n icht haben wollte”wi e

ein Kartenhaus zusammen . Allerdings : billiger Hurrahpatriotismus mit allen seinen byzanthinischen Begleiterschei

nungen ist Raabe fremd, und seine Helden wissen ihrem deutschen Empfinden auch ohne viel Sabelrasseln Ausdruck zu

geben . Wie es auch Spiero S . 146 kurz und treffend pracis iert : Das E chte und Bleibende wird n icht von denen ge

leistet die die grossen Reden halten , sondern von denen ,die

still ihre Pfiicht tun”

. S ie wirken mehr durch s tille Grosse,die den billigen Schein des Heroismus leicht entbehren kannund eben dadurch desto wirkungsvoller in di e E rs cheinung


tri tt . Ich mochte hier besonders auf den Magister Noah Buchiusim Odfeld

”als Typus eines solchen raabischen Helden

hindeuten . Und als sein Gegenstiick der junge tapfereThedel von Miinchhausen den der Klosterzucht entlaufenenScholar , der an der Spitze seiner Reiter lachend in den Tod

jagt . Jeder Zoll ein Held ! Und als Raabe an sein letztesBuch ging

,da gab er ihm als Motto das Wort des Freiherrn

von Stein :“Ich habe nur ein Vaterland , das heisst Deutsch

land Fein fiihrt Spiero S . 49 und 5 0 auch aus , wie innerlich Raabe das Wort “ Deutsch ”

auffasste und mit,welch

scharfem Blick und unbestechlichen Urteil er die Schaden“Das arms elige Schwammgeschlecht am Baume Gottes ”

er

kennt und beurteilt ,“die Saugschwamme

,die Herrenpilze

die Speitaubinge, die Judas ohren ,die Bovisten ,

die am

Marke der Eiche zehren Gross will Raabe seine Deutschen ,

gross im Handeln und Denken ,nicht zur triiben Resignation

erziehen ”wi e uns einer seiner Kritiker glauben machen will ,

sondern ihnen vorwarts helfen auf dem Wege ausserer und

innerer Entwicklung .

Engherziger Partikularismus wie verbissener Chauvinis

mus sind Raabe gleich fremd . Die deutsche Volksseele als

solche hat nie einen w'

armeren Befiirworter gefunden ; diedeutsche Politik aber, die Regierung vom grunen Tisch

,ist

nicht immer nach seinem Ges chmack und er scheut sichkeineswegs , die atzende Lauge seines Spottes iiber Personenund Zustande zu ergiessen

,die ihm eine Gefahr fiir deutsch

volkische Ideale bedeuten . Auch hier ist es Spiero gelungen ,

das Wesentlichste herauszuheben und so das Gesamtbild desDeutschen Raabe nach allen Seiten hin abrundend zu ge

stalten . So weist er S . 107 -auf eine Stelle im “Draumling

”

hin,wo Raabe die nach dem franzosischen Kriege einge

tretenen Griinder und Schwindelj ahre von der hohenWarte eines ernsten Mahners betrachet, und ihrer Zeit imBilde eines Syrupfasses , das auf der Strasse geplatzt undum das sich Alt und Jung mit allerlei S chopfapparaten be

gierig ansammelt, iron isch-kritisch das Urteil spricht : “Es

hatte fast den Anschein,als sollte dies der grosste Gewinn

sein ,den das geeinigte Vaterland aus seinem grossen Er

folge in der Weltgeschichte hervorholen sollte”. Mit welch

eisigem Hohne wird nicht die erbarmliche Kleinstaterei nachdem grossen Vtilkerfriihling von 1 813 in

“Abu Telfan ”

Ver

spottet, der in“Gutmanns Reisen gem

'

a'

ssigtere Formenannimmt um in den

“Gansen von Bii tzow

”g

'

anzlich in

Parodie umzuschlagen . Das von Spiero angefiihrte Mottodes Odfeld

”,das Raabe einem alten Holzmindener Zei

tungsblatt entnahm,bedarf keines Kommentars : So ist es

464 Doernenburg

also das Schicksal Deuts chlands immer gewesen,dass seine

Bewohner, durch das Gefiihl der Tapferkeit hingerissen an

allen Kriegen teil nahmen ; oder , dass es selbst der Schauplatz blutiger Auftritte war . Das s , wenn tiber die Grenzenam Orinoko Zwist ents tand

,er in Deutschland musste aus

gemacht , Kanada auf unserm Boden erobert werden ”. Die

innere Zerrissenheit Deutschlands jener Zeit,die Raabe bit

ter beklagt,treibt seine Sohne in die Fremde

,wenn sie n icht

gar von vergnugungssuchtigen , geldbediirftigen Pursten ein.fach dorthin verkauft werden um dort fii r andere N ationenihr Blut zu verspritzen . Man denke nur an die hess ischenRegimenter im amerikanischen Befreiungskriege. So klagtdenn auch der alte miide Reiter in “

Lorenz S cheibenhart”

Wahrlich,das ist die leidige N ot ! Ihr moget gegen den

Feind anreiten,wo ihr wollt in der Welt

,ihr treft

'

et immergegenuber einen ,

der euch euren Schwertschlag oder Pistolenschuss mit einem deutschen Fluche zuriickgibt. Mag es seinin Welschland, Polakien oder im amerikan ischen Reich

,

deuts che Fauste trommeln immer uberall aufeinander soweitdie Sonne leuchtet , soweit die N acht dunkel ist. (Halb Mahr,halb mehr

,S .

Die Frage,oh Raabe die durch S iebenzig erlangte Grosse

Deutschlands richtig einzuschatzen gewusst, ist fur den ech

ten Raabe-Freund und -Kenner uberhaupt n icht debatierbar . Ihre summarische Beurteilung aber

,wie sie R . M.

Meyer gibt ist'

eines Fors chers durchaus unwiirdi g . Einesolche Methode kritischer Arbeit , ohne ihr iibrigens auchnur den Schein einer Berechtigung geben zu wollen

,maghier und da einmal bei kleinen Geistern das Rechte treffen :

ihre Anwendung einem Schriftsteller und Philosophen wie

Raabe gegenuber ist einfach absurd und kann nicht scharfgenug verurteilt werden . Wagt sich ein Kritiker an Raabe,so tue er es

“ mit dem Hute in der Hand Und uberhaupt

Wem das Organ fur diesen im bes ten Sinne deutschenDichter uberhaupt fehlt , iiberlasse dieses Amt lieber einemRaabe-Verehrer , der dann ,

wie Spiero, es wohl vorziehen mag ,

s ich mit der Rolle eines staunenden Bewunderers zu be

gniigen . Denn dazu muss jede ernstliche Beschaftigungmit Raabe werden

,bleibt sie n icht an Ausserlichkeiten haf

ten ,sondern dringt durch die oft rauhe Schale raabischer

Kunst zum vollen reichen Gemii t des Dichters hindurch ,das der Welt Wunder und Schonheit in s einen Tiefen birgt ,zur warmen echten Menschenliebe, die wie bei Dickens , denGrundton seines Schaffens bildet.

Was den Dichtungen Raabes nun ihren besondern Wertgibt : Das Abtun alles Ausserlichen ,

Hand in Hand mit tief


466 Doernenburg

serlich der Kanaille unterliegen,innerlich aber Sieger blei

ben . Denn der Wert eines raabischen Helden b'

angt nichtdavon ab

,oh er im Kampfe mit der Welt siegt oder untergeht.

Und“ frei durchgehn

”konnen nur die

,die das L eben mit

allen seinen Wechself’

allen willkommen heissen und s ich zur

rechten Zeit zu bes cheiden wissen . Sustine et abstine ! Wiemancher und manche Edle und Feine bei Raabe druckt sichnicht im Kampfe gegen “

die kalte mitleidslose Welt die

Ehrenkrone selbst aufs Haupt . Mit Recht weis t darum auchSpiero auf die beruhmte Stelle im 1 6. Kapitel in “

Abu Tel

fan”hin

,

“das hohe L ied des L ebens ”

wie Heinrich Goebeldiese wundervollen Worte bezeichnet . “Wohl dem

,der sei

nes Menschentumes Macht,Kraft und Herrlichkeit kennt und

fiihlt durch alle Adern und Fiebern des L eibes und der

Seele ! Wohl dem,der stark genug ist

,s ich n icht zu tiber

heben ,und ruhig genug

,um zu jeder Stunde dem N ichts in

die leeren Augenhohlen blicken zu konnen . Wohl dem vor

allen,

welchem der ungeheure Lobgesang der Schopfungan keiner Stelle und zu keiner Stunde ein sinnloses oder garwiderliches Rauschen ist

,und der aus jeder Not und jeder

Verdunkelung die Hand ausstrecken kann mi t dem Schreiich lebe

,denn das Ganze lebt tiber mir und um mich ! ”— So

spricht kein Pessimist,kein miider N irvana-Sucher, wie denn

auch Spiero S . 86 ausdriicklich betont , dass Raabe keinenseiner Helden durch Selbstmord aus dem L eben scheiden lasst

,

so nahe auch die Veranlassung dazu manchmal gelegen habenmag . Gleich weit entfernt vom oberfl

'

achlichem Optimismuswie buddhistischer Daseinsflucht stellt er seine Helden mittenin den Lebenskampf und lasst sie, im Vertrauen auf ihr Herz ,den Streit mit den dunklen Machten selbst ausfechten . Allerdings

,und das sei hier noch einmal ausdrii cklich erwahnt :

Raabes L ebensanschauung bis in ihre feinsten Ver'

astelungen

verfolgen und erkennen zu wollen ist eine feine Kunst , dernur diejen igen vollig Meis ter werden ,

die der Dichter gelehrt hat “

auf jene Glocke zu horen,die iiber alle Schellen

klingt ” .

Durchgeistigter Optimismus und echtes bodenstandiges

Deutschtum : das sind die beiden Pole um die das schopferis che L eben Raabes kreist . Und prachtig ist es Spierogelungen

,diese gros sen Momente bei Raabe plastisch hervor

zuheben . Doch damit ist der Inhalt seines Buches noch lan

gc nicht erschopft. So werden im ersten Kapitel , gleichsamals Praludium zur eigentlichen Besprechung der Werke desDichters

,vorzuglich durchgefiihrte Verbindungslin ien gezo

gen : vom sterbenden Klassizismus durch die Romantik und

Tendenzdichtung hindurch bis zu den Anf'

angen volkstiim


licher Realistik bei Gotthelf, Alexis und Zimmermann ,zum

Ideal der L ebenstreue, das dann durch Raabe seine Kro'

nungerlebte. Auch bringt das erste Kapitel eine kurze BiographieRaabes , dess en Leben in Hermann Andres Kriigers Buch ,“Der junge Raabe”

j a ausfiihrlicher nachzulesen ist, wie dennuberhaupt die biographischen N otizen Spieros und Krugerskaum mehr als Vorarbeiten zur grossen Raabe-Biographie,gelten konnen , die der berufenste Interpret des Dichters

,

Wilhelm Brandes , im Auftrage der Familie vorbereitet. DemE inleitungskapitel folgen dann Vier weitere Kapitel

, eineBesprechung des eigentlichen L ebenswerkes Raabes die

,an

s charfsinniger Analyse und seelischer Vertiefung gleich wertvoll , das reiche Geistesleben des Dichters vor uns ausbreitenund dessen Hauptmoment ich schon besprochen habe. Dochmochte ich noch ein iges nachzuholen suchen .

Spiero ist meines Wissens nach der Erste, der auf den grossen Fortschritt raabis cher Kompositions und Konzentrierungskunst in DreiFedern ” hinweist

,nachdem dieses Buch bis j etzt

bei der Kritik sowohl wie beim lesenden Publikum und selbstin den Kreisen der Raabe-Freunde wenig Beachtung getunden . Raabes vollige Verzichtleistung auf das “

Requisitenk'

ast

chen der Romantik in diesem Buche, die straffe gradlinigeHandlung und vertiefte psychologische Kunst , die besondersin der von Spiero S . 68 71 bezeichneten Szene zwischenAugust Sonntag und dem Kriminalkommissar auf dem Elbdampfer zur vollen Geltung kommt, werden zweifellos diesemso lange vernachlassigten Meisterwerke Raabes erneute Aufmerksamkeit s ichern . Und das Wort der Antigone, in das

nach Spiero “ Drei Federn ”so herrlich ausklingt : nicht mit

zuhassen ,mitzulieben bin ich da,

“ durchzittert auch ”als L eit

motiv Raabes grosse Trilologie, vom “ Hungerpastor” durch“Abu Telfan ”

bis zum “Schiidderump

”,dem grossten R0~

mane aller Zeiten . In diesen Meisterwerken der StuttgarterZeit erhebt s ich Raabe auf die iiberragenden Hohen seinerKunst

,und das in ihnen lebende faustische R ingen um die

letzten Geheimn is se des Werdens und Vergehens , stempeltihn zu einem Tragiker von grandioser Gestaltungskraft . Und

mit vollendeter Kuns t feinster Einfiihlung hat uns SpieroS . 72 98 die Schatze des fruchtbaren Schaffens jener Periodeerschlossen : Der mit den finsteren L ebensmachten ringendeHunger Hans Unwirsch nach L icht und Erkenntnis ; die in derKatzenmiihle wohnende “ Frau von der Geduld”

zu der die

Schritte aller im Malstrome des L ebens Gescheiterten fuhren ;die sterbende, ausserlich unterliegende

,aber innerlich siegen

de Antonie in den Armen des Herrn von Glaubigern“des

grossten R itters aller Zeiten die vergebens an die Tiir ihrer

468 Doernenburg

Freundin im Armenhaus zu Krodebeck klopfende alte HexeJane Warwolf, fiinfzig Jabre, sechzig Jahre, und auf

solche Weise vorbei ! Tiir zu und Fenster zu,und alles vor

bei, alles vorbei , als nie etwas gewesen ”Und am Schlusse

seiner Besprechung wendet s ich Spiero S . 98 noch einmalgegen die

,so in der Trilologie, und besonders im Schiid

derump das pessimistische Glaubensbekenn tnis des Dichterssehen wollen “

n icht der Pessimismus, sondern jene Weltan

schauung, die mit glanzlosem Idealismus die Menschheit weiter fiihrt, die das L eben ers t wirklich leben lehrt sie sprichtaus dieser Reihe Von Meisterwerken ,

die Raabe auf der

Hohe seines L ebens abs chlos s ”.

Im Schlusskapitel fasst dann Spiero noch einmal diemenschliche und dichterische Personlichkeit Raabes klar undiibers ichtlich zusammen . Seine reiche Bildung, die er aus

allen Quellen gezogen“ ganz unaufdringlich

,als etwas Ver

arbeitetes und Zugehoriges , nicht als aufgepfropfter Putz , redet sie aus seinenWerken ”

S . 1 5 8 . Auch widerholt hier Spierowas schon Brandes Viel ausfiihrlicher iiber den Humor Raabesgesagt hat ; dass dieser sich in seinen Hohepunkten durchaus mit Vischers Definierung des

“ freien Humors ” decke,dem freien Schweben iiber die Ereign isse des L ebens . Rechthat auch Spiero

,wenn er Raabes Humor nur als einen Be

standteil“ tragisch-grosser Gestaltungskraft ” ansieht

,wie

denn uberhaupt diemeisten Raabe-Kritiker tiber dem IdyllikerRaabe den Tragiker fast ganz verges sen ,

der s ich in der

Wucht geschilderter L ebensschicksale dem grossen Hebbel getrost zur Seite stellen kann . Auch Raabes Deutschtum wirdnoch einmal in kurzen Stitzen fein charakterisiert , Und zu

letzt seine L iebe zu den Kindern und sein Mitleiden mit derKreatur “

die ihren Schmerz auss teht und stirbt und es n ichtmit Worten aussagen kann ,

wie ihr dabei zumute ist”. Und

dies tiefe Mitgefiihl Raabes fiir die Schwachen und Wehrlosen ruft uns einen andern grossen Geist in die Erinnerung ,dem das gleiche Gefiihl die Feder in die Hand driickte

Charles Dickens .

Ich mochte Spieros Buch besonders denen empfehlen ,die

die N otwendigkeit eines bewahrten F ii hrers in die Gedankenwelt Raabes empfinden : den Anféingern . Es bietet aber auchden schon tiefer in Raabe eingedrungenen Lesern eine reicheFundgrube fruchtbarer Anregungen und eine Quelle unver

siegbaren Genusses . Man spiirt es dem Au tor an,dass ihm

die L iebe zu Raabe die Feder fuhrte, dass das Bild des ein

zigen Menschen gross und machtig vor seiner Seele s tand . So

hat sich denn auch sein Buch aus einfachen Rahmen hinauszu einer gewaltigen Apotheose des Dichters entwickelt von


470 Pope

dealing only with Wagner ’

s literary production, yet realizing

that he is dealing with a supreme genius,is prone to forget

that this lofty pos ition of his hero is not due to his poetryalone, and is easily led to exaggerate the value of Wagner ’

s

poetical output . The influences of Greek tragedy,of Hoff

mann ,of English literature were

, to be sure,potent in the

stimulation of Wagner ’s musical as well as his literary genius ,

but the real , the whole Wagner cannot be explained by showing the indebtedness of passages on the printed page to ear

lier literature or even by demonstrating the remarkabledramatic s tructure of a Tannhauser as compared with its unconnected sources . N evertheless such investigations are in

dispensable in determin ing the genesis and development of

the various works and are helpful contributions to the com

plete understanding oi. the tone-dramatist Wagner .

In his monograph on“R ichard Wagner und die englische

L iteratur ”,an expans ion of his Breslau dissertation ,

Reicheltattempts to trace Wagner ’

s acquaintanceship with Englishliterature from his early youth

,

“ when he learned English inorder to read Shakespeare”

,to his old age, to discuss Wag

ner ’s attitude at different periods of his life towards Eng

land ’

s greatest dramatist, and to show the nature of Wagner ’

s

art by comparing his works With their English sources .

Chapter I,the mos t interesting of the seven ,

gives an ad

mirable short general survey of Wagner ’s acquaintan ceship

With English literature, largely based on Wagner ’s own ac

counts . Here, to be sure,Reichelt occasionally attempts to

deduce too much from a s imple statement . L ike most greatGermans , Wagner, too, wen t to s chool to Shakespeare, and

wrote in his autobiography that he had “ made a metricaltranslation of Romeo ’

s monolog From this statement,

Reichelt infers that the boy R ichard made use of one of the

prose translations rather than the Schlegel-Tieck translationswhich he certainly used later . Or

“was it possible that in

boyish arrogance,self-confidence and bold creative fervor, he

believed himself capable of a more perfect metrical translation ”

? N either of these alternatives is called for . L ikeany young fellow of literary bent , R ichard admired the passage and thought he would try his hand at it.

Chapter II discusses Wagner ’

s relationship to Shakespeare.

Throughout his life Wagner considered Shakespeare “the

mightiest poet of all time”and in every new stage of his own

development he felt boun d to propound and answer the question as to what position he should assume in reference to thepersonality and genius of the English dramatist . Being artistrather than philosopher, Wagner was prone to err in his theo


ries,if not in his productive work, and his explanations of

Shakespeare ’s gen ius are interesting rather than valid . Reich

elt justly criticizes Wagner ’

s contention that Shakespeare ’s

genius is to be explained only or chiefly from his talent asan improvis ing mime, and that his drama has remained freefrom any influence of

“der antikisierenden Renaissance”

. Ou

the other hand Wagner was right in demanding that Shakespeare be judged only by his own measuring rod and not bythat of ancient tragedy, while not in the least assuming thatShakespeare himself should be the model for slavish imitationthroughout all future time. Faulty again is Wagner ’

s theorythat the drama originated in the novel . According to Reichelt ,Wagner

’

s study of Shakespeare may be divided into two

periods ; the first 1 849-1 8 5 1,in which Wagner was occupied

with the question as to the origin of the Shakespearean drama ;the second, about twenty years later, when he was attemptingto define its character. In neither of these periods are Wagner ’

s conclusions wholly reliable.

In the two following chapters detailed comparisons ofWag

ner ’

s‘L iebesverbot ’ with Shakespeare ’

s‘Measure for Meas

ure’and Wagner ’

s‘R ienzi ’ with Bulwer ’

s novel are given .

Reichelt rightly emphasizes the fact that the ‘L iebesverbot ’

,

whichWagnerites are prone to pass over lightly,is just as nec

essary in Wagner ’

s development as “die Rauber ” in that of

Schiller . The treatment of‘R ienzi ’

,while comprehens ive,

is not altogether satisfactory . As Golther suggests in his re

view,D . L it. Ztg . Oct. 1 2

,1 91 2

,Reichelt might well have

profited by a study of Reuss’s excellent article on R ienzi in

the Bayreuther Blatter, Vol . X II, p . 1 5 0.

The concluding chapters on English influences in‘L eu

bald ’

,

‘Hochzeit ’

,

‘Feen ’

,und

‘Hollander ’

, on“ Second

Sight and on“Wagner and Thomas Carlyle”

are short,

"

fragmentary and unconvincing . On the whole, Reichelt ’

s

monograph contains much valuable material and is an interesting contribution to Wagner literature ; nevertheless it canhardly be cons idered the last word on the subject and leavesthe impression that the author was not yet fully mas ter of histheme or fully acquainted with the literature. A number ofminor errors in the orthography or use of English words and

names indicate also that Reichelt was not fully conversant withthe language. Yet in his chapter on R ienzi he cites regularlythe English edition , although Wagner himself made use of

Barmann ’s translation . An alphabetically arranged bibliog

raphy and an index would have been welcome additions toRel chelt s monograph . PAU L R . POPE .


472 Bloomfield

KULTUR,AUSBREITUNG UND HERKUNFT DER INDO

GERMANEN von Sigmund Feist . Mit 36 Textabbildungenund 5 Tafeln . Berlin

, Weidmanns che Buchhandlung, 1 91 3.

M. 1 3 (unbound ) .

Feist’

s book is scarcely to be described as a new attemptto determine the location and characteristics of the peoplewho spoke primitive Indo-European ; it seeks rather to give a

popular summary of the various facts relating to this questionand gives comparatively little space to theorizing from thesefacts . In such theorizing as he allows hims elf Feist places thePrimitive Indo-European commun ity in Central Asia, leavingthe reader free choice of a more exact location within thisvast territory (pp . 5 1 8 ff

, especially As to the physicaland cultural description he is even less dogmatic ; again and

again he foregoes the choice between a number of possibilities ;thus

,about the family (p . the dwell ing (p . flora

(p . metals (p . weapons (pp. 21 6,

and so on .

Those who are acquainted with the cock-sure s tatements whichmost writers on this subject affect

,often only to withdraw

them a few years later in favor of contrary but equally con

fident and equally unproved as sertions , will thank Feist forthis attitude. Indeed , he who looks for scientific certainty wi llwish that the author had come even nearer to acceptingWundt

’s dictum (Volkerpsyehologie, I, 2 , p . 61 2

,quoted by

Feist, p . V . f . ) Alle Annahmen iiber die primitive Kultur

der Indogermanen sind ins Gebiet der Wissens chaftlichenMythenbildung zu verweisen ,

und nicht Viel anders wird maniiber die mann igfachen Versuche denken konnen ,

die Urheimatdieser Volkerfamilie auszufinden .

” 1

The case is perhaps not quite so desperate, but, whateverthe future may bring , this s entence does fairly well describethe present state of the problem. By the name “

PrimitiveIndo-European ”

we designate the un iform language or dialectwhich must have been spoken at the moment before the settingin of the first of those dialectal differentiations which have re

sulted in the multiplicity of languages of our family. Our

recons tructions of forms of this languag e are,to some extent ,

only symbolic ; whatever their significance, though ,so much is

certain : they apply only to the last moment of uniformitybefore the first dialect-cleavage that has left any record . Afterthat point in time we can no longer speak of Primitive IndoEuropean

,but must speak of pre

-Greek, pre-Germanic , and

so on ; even such groupings as pre-Balto-Slavic (instead of

1 In his third edition (p. 6 5 8 ff. ) Wundt expresses himself moremildly but no less decisively.


474 Bloomfield

has at his command considerable bibliography and' is well

learned, but his arrangement of the discussion is not good ;it is highly uneven and often confusing. Thus part of thediscussion of somatic types inserts itself suddenly (p . 83)into that of ceramics ; the transition to matters anthrOpologic

could have been made at a dozen points and should have beenplaced more carefully. The anthropologic part of the bookis generally weak ; Boas

’ work on change of somatic featureswith change of environment is not mentioned . Ethnology alsois slighted a perfun ctory reference toWundt

’s E lemente der

Volkerpsychologie (p . 24,in lieu of a treatment of totemism

and related phenomena) is seen to des erve this adjective whenthe totally inadequate description of early beliefs and worldView contains such a s tatement as this (p . 333)

“Der Geist

oder Go tt wird in bestimmten Baumen lokalisiert , dort verehrtund schlieszlich mit dem Baume identifiziert .

”Pre-history

fares bes t of all and is well illustrated , but even here the

discussion lacks coherence. Feist deserves credit , however,for not in this connection overes timating etymologic data.

The linguistic part also is inadequate. On pages 42 if .

Feist makes the old, hopeless attempt to give the facts of IndoEuropean comparative linguistics in a nutshell

,a thing which

can ’t be done and would interes t no one if it could. As is

usual in such cases , phonology, which alone lends itself to sum

maries,disprOportionately outweighs morphology and syn

tax ,—which

,by the way ,

receive no interpretation throughoutthe whole book, although they tell us more about the PrimitiveIndo-European people than all other sources together. And

,

as is also not uncommon ,brevity here means inaccuracy. Thus

,

p . 49,we hear that the P . IE . labiovelars appear in Celtic

throughout as labials , and on p . 5 1 we are told that Frenchand Swedish have no fix ed word-accent , that musical wordaccent like that of Swedish exists in German Rhenish dialects(“oder in der Kindersprache”

, adds Feist ) , and on the same

page the “ free” word-accent (“ free here needs definition ,

of course, for the layman ) of Russ ian , Servian ,L ithuanian

,

and Modern Greek is cited as if to prove that the wordaccent of P . IR . was musical ; though these are the only misstatments , this confused paragraph would mis lead the layreader on other points as well

,if he read it. On p . 313 we are

suddenly given two L ithuan ian strophes in the origina “um

den Wohlklang dieser altertiimlichen idg . Sprache zu zeigen ”,

-although not the slightest indication of pronunciation is

given, even the accent-marks being left Off. Of other languages

Basque for some reas on receives on pages 360E. a descriptionof almost Saycean quality, but that is not altogether Feist ’

s


fault . As a linguist Feist ought to use the term Semiti cas a linguistic concept

,but he is not doing this when he calls

the Masai Semitic ; they have been called so because some of

their legends sound like Old Testamen t stories .

The most interesting parts of the book are—the passageswhich deal with the more newly found As iatic IE . languages ,and those (32 f.

,480 ft ,

5 10 fi.,—especially 483) in which

Feist presents his own theory (cf.,FEB . 36

,35 0 according

to which German ic is simply Celtic speech in the mouths of

a population that previously spoke a non-Indo-European langnage ; the Germanic sound-shift and other features of Ger

man ic sound-history are the alterations which Celtic sufiered

in the mouths of this population ,and about one-third of the

Germanic vocabulary is retained from the earlier non -IndoEuropean language.

2 N eedless to say that this theory in itsspecific form has little to support it, and in general it is likelythat German ic represents a decidedly normal development fromP . IE . and Celtic rather that of an IE . language imposed on

a people of other tongue.

-F or themost part , however , the bookis not interestingly written ; Feist

’

s style is not brilliant andhis presentation is inconvenient . In spite of the praiseworthyabstention from dogmatism Feist ’

s book will not take a placebeside Schrader ’

s foundation-work and Hirt’s fascinating ex

position . Publisher and printer des erve high credit for theappearan ce of the volume.

LEONARD BLOOMF IELD .


2 This whole theory has been abandoned by F eist in his recent pamphletIndogermanen und Germanen (Halle, in which he discusses most

ably and, for the most part, convincingly, a number of problems whichhe could only touch upon in the larger work, owing to the limited spaceallowed to him by the publishers .

AARON HILL . POET,DRAMATIST

,PROJECTOR . By

Dorothy Brews ter , Ph .D . N ew York . Columbia UniversityPress . 1 91 3.

This recent volume of the Columbia Un iversity Studies inEnglish and Comparative L iterature brings to light a mislaidauthor . With th e s ingle exception of Southey

,Aaron Hill

affords the most monumental example of a vanished reputation . His name stood in the headlines of his own age, but inthe footnotes of posterity. L ike the author of “Wat Tyler,

”

Hill was undoubtedly the mos t moral man of letters of his

time, for R ichardson ’

s long-skirted morality occasionallytripped the wearer . F or founding a colony in America

,Hill en

tertained an abortive scheme,which differed from Pantisoc

racy only in being more practical,and like Southey, too, he

476 Whicker

meditated tremendous epics (witness the eight books of GideBut his personality was greater than his works . We

may forgive a man who devoted the greater part of his timeto the

“study of history

,criticism

,geography

,phys ic , com

merce, agriculture, war , law,chemi stry, and natural philoso

phy ” if he failed to be also a great poet . The single exampleof Hill ’s verse currently known , the familiar lyric beginning

“Tender-handed stroke a nettle

,

And it stings you for your pains ,startles our admiration more by its bold use of

“nutmeg

graters in an age that shrank from the mention of a hoop,

than by its purely poetic qualities . Too versatile to achievegreat distinction , Hill was too energetic not to make his presence widely felt . As traveller

,tutor, secretary

,poet , trans

lator, historian , dramatist , stage manager,opera librettist

,

critic and essayis t,teacher of dramatic art, and commercial

projector he was constantly active. But in spite of his manifold claims to notice, in spite of his connection with Peterborough

,with Handel , with Fielding, with Voltaire, Hill has

never been given more adequate attention than the few pagesin

“Oibber

’

s L ives ”or the summary paragraphs by Leslie

Stephen in the “ Dictionary of N ational Biography . Criti cshave generally emphas ized only one of his varied powers

,his

power to bore ; but the injustice of their verdict is made apparent by Hill ’s lates t and definitive biography . Dr . Brewsterhas rendered valuable service to students of the eighteenthcentury by collecting the many scattered memorials of Hillin compact and accessible form she has rendered a service tohumanity by making the volume readable.

One of the surprises in store for those not versed in Hillianscholarship is the account of Aaron ’

s adventurous boyhood .

Nothing could be more unexpected than for a school-mate of

placid Johnny Gay to complete his education by a voyage toConstantinople, but Hill with the help of a romantic grandmother accomplished the journey, and wi th a tutor providedby his kinsman Lord Paget

,then ambassador to the Porte,

spent more than a year rambling through Greece, the islandsof the Aegean ,

the Holy Land , and Egypt . He quoted Musaeusto the memory of Hero and L eander, found the tomb of Hec

tor , tried sponge diving at Samos , and met with a thrillingadventure in the catacombs near Memphis . In his love for

out of the way travels and even more in his ardent , inquisitive,and sentimental temperament he often reminds us of the ro

mantic tourist of a century later. But by the use which hemade of his Oriental experiences Hill showed himself a trueden izen of the age of reason . Instead of a

“Childe Harold

”


478 Whicker

could awaken his resentment , no enraptured compliment hissense of the absurd . His connections with many biterati brednot a single quarrel— except his celebrated passage-at-armswith Pope.

The accurate and complete statement of Hill ’s relations withPope and with R ichardson is perhaps the most valuable partof Miss Brewster ’

s work. She has corrected and supplementedMr. Courthope

’s discussion of the well-known misunderstand

ing between Hill and Pope over the diving contest in the“ Dunciad ,

”a dispute in which solidity triumphed over super

ior but shifty wi t, so that Mr . Pope was obliged to do penanceby reading and rereading “ Caesar” for the injured “

swan of

Thames .

”The later and indirect bickerings between Pope

in“The Grub Street Journal ” and Hill in “

The Plain Dealer are recorded for the first time in the present account . Of

the equally important correspondence between Hill and the

author of Pamela,

”their complaints and their medi cines ,

their compliments and their criticisms , of the diffident novelist

’s des ire for corrections wh ich he inevitably rejected, and

of Hill ’s vain attempt to abridge “Clarissa,

”the las t chapter

gives an amusing summary . In the light of new materialthere presented the character of R ichards on becomes partieularly Vivid .

The reader cannot fail, too, to catch something of the bio

grapher’s respect for Aaron Hill

,an original

,generous , vigor

ous soul placed in a shallow,pretentious

,and self—interested

society,though he may find hims elf wondering, as he emerges

from the book, whether its chief interest is not due more tothe fine di scrimination and abundant humor of the biographerthan to the character or achievements of the subject . As a

presentation of the facts of Hill ’s life,Miss Brewster ’

s monograph can hardly be improved . If there is any criticism to be

made,it is that the author ’

s modesty has held her too closelyto the Bergsonian dictum that the highest achievement of

science is to refine facts from the coloring of theory. It is

hard to avoid a suspicion that Miss Brewster ’s Opinions would

prove more valuable than the details of her hero ’

s undertak

ings . What after all was the sign ificance of Hill ’s life and

work ? Did his “Ottoman Empire” play a part analogous to

that of the Oriental Tale in popularizing the vogue of the mysterious East ? Was he the first to tap the spring of Gaelic layslater the source of MacPherson

’s inspiration ? How far was

Hill an advocate of enthus iasm,a romantic born out of his

time and stifled in an age of pros e ? We cannot quarrel withthe excellence of Miss Brewster ’

s scholarly work , but we can

not altogether es cape a regret that her systematic and pains

Reviews and Nates 479

taking study should be devoted to that admirable, though distinctly minor person ,

A . Hill , Esq .

G. F . WHICH'

ER .


THE INFIN ITIVE IN ANGLO-SAXON . By Morgan Callaway

,Jr . Professor of English in the Univers ity of Texas .

Washington,D . 0. Published by the Carnegie Ins titution of

Washington (Publication N o. 1 913.

Professor Callaway is to be warmly congratulated on con

tributing the most valuable investigation which has yet beenmade in the field of Anglo-Saxon syntax . His work may becommended without reservation for all the qualities which render a piece of special research like this permanently useful .He has treated his subject with such absolute thoroughnessas seemingly to leave nothing for the most painstaking gleanerwho may come behind . The vast and perplexing mass of

facts by which the student of the infinitive is usually bewildered has been marshalled by him in orderly and logicalarray. Every passage in the entire body of Anglo-Saxon literature in whi ch an infinitive occurs has been s canned

,analyzed,

measured , and compared from every poss ible angle with the obj ect of settling the meaning of the passage and thereby determining its classification or of. throwing light on the originsof the construction . Professor Callaway has weighed scru

pulously and acknowledged generously the views of all earlierinves tigators

,but he has also thought independently, and as a

result of it all he has succeeded in clarifying a number of

ques tions the solution of‘

which has hitherto seemed almosthopeless . Consp i cuous among Professor Callaway ’

s new re

sults is the discrimination between the uses of the infinitive

with and without to and the determination of the extent ofLatin influence on the various uses of the infinitive, resultswhich were made possible only by a judicious avoidance of

broad generalizations and adh erence to a system of minutediscrimination .

The plan of the work, briefly ,is as follows . The first thirteen

chapters are devoted to a detailed description and analysis of

the various uses arranged according to their function . Chapters I-III deal with the noun uses—subject

,object

, appos ition ,

etc. ; Chapters IV -IX with the predicate uses— after auxiliaryverbs , verbs of motion and rest

, wa ton , and been, and with ao

cusative or dative subjects ; Chapters X -X II With the adverbial uses

,and Chapter XIII with the adjectival use. In

480 Z eitl'in

each chapter active and pass ive infinitives are treated separately . The fourteenth is the most important single chapter ,containing as it does the discussion of the origin of the con

structions des cribed in the first thirteen . Chapter XV, under

the title “ Some Substitutes for the Infinitive in Anglo-Saxon ’

treats of the change from infinitive to present participle afterverbs of motion and of the substitution of the present partici

ple in the construction of the accusative with infinitive. In

Chapter XVI the writer seeks to confirm all his findings withregard to the uses of the infinitive in Anglo-Saxon by a careful examination of the status of thes e constructions in the

other Germanic languages . It takes a separate chapter of tensolidly printed large octavo pages to sum up the results of theinvestigation in the mos t compendious form. There are alsovery useful Appendices . Appendix A gives a list of all the

occurrences of the infinitive, clas sified primarily as in the

general treatment , the instances in each class being given withthe finite verbs , alphabetically arranged , of the pas sages inwhich they occur. Appendix D is a chart showing the numberof times that all the constructions are found , in poetry , inprose, and in each individual work . Appendix B is a bibliography , and Appendix C has a detailed comment on the articleto in the N ew English Dictionary .

It must be evident from this bare des cription with whatsystem and what minuteness , altogether above praise, the workhas been done. And yet one is sometimes impelled to ask

whether Professor Callaway has not carried his virtues to an

extreme degree of refinement. In analyzing the factors whichdetermine whether the infinitive is inflected or uninfiected

,he

lays much stress on the distance which separates the infinitive

from the governing word or phrase and sometimes attachesmore significance to slight variations of position than is eas ilyapparent . And in supporting his View that the form of the

objective infinitive is in the greatest measure determined bythe govern ing power of the verb on which it depends

, the

infin itive wi thout to being characteristic of verbs with accusative regimen and the form with to after verbs with dativeor genitive regimen ,

he is forced to seek evidence in distinotions which were effaced before the historical period of AngloSaxon . The writer ’

s method of splitting hairs is even morenotable in his discussion of Latin influence. He is not con

tent with putting the question separately in connection withevery special use of the infinitive, or even in connection withevery homogeneous group of words with which it happens tobe employed . F or example it is not enough only to determinewhether Latin has influenced the use of the infinitive as predi


482 Tiej e

There were none with pres ent participles . N or can I see

what there was in my footnote referring to Dr . Grimberg’s

Opin ion which should have led Professor Callaway to thinkthat I endorsed it. I make this elaborate explanation not

merely to vindicate my agreement with Professor Callawayin regard to the present participle

,but to point out that he

unduly ignores the importance of such passages as I have citedin contributing rto the developmen t of the accusative with infinitive. A reviewer who cannot find anything else to disagreewith may be permitted so much .

All students should join the author in thanking the Carnegie Institution for the handsome form in which the workhas been prin ted . With such an auxiliary to call upon

,no

person need despair who has anything of scientific value toput before the world .

JACOB ZEITLIN .


THE GREEK ROMANCES IN ELIZABETHAN FICTION .

S . L . Wolff. Columbia Un ivers ity Press,1 91 2 .

In Wolff ’

s dis sertation evidences of assiduity are everywhere. Much actual contribution to knowledge is nowherepresent—and what little new material is scattered in thisvolume of 482 pages has to a di stinct extent appeared in two

articles , one on Robert Greene and the Italian R enaissance

(Englische S tudien, XXXVII, pp . 321 the other on ASource of Euphues (Modern Phi lology , VII, pp . 5 77

The pseudo-scholarliness of Wolff ’

s work may best be seen byan analys is of its content . One-half of the book is devotedto a discussion of the Greek romances themselves ; and one

half of this space is given up to summaries . Of the secondhalf of the book , the influence of the Greek romances upon N ashand Lodge is comprised in two pages , upon Lyly in thirteen ,

upon Greene in ninety-one, upon Sidney in one hundred and

four ; of the material upon Sidney forty-five pages are a summary of the Arcadia. That the summaries are well-done wouldassuredly be no defense for allowing them such vas t proportions in a

“ contribution to knowledge.

But if the summaries are to be found in a half-dozen otherworks

,one might at leas t expect that in a book which can

scarcely command any audience other than busy fellowresearchists , the one hundred and twenty-six p ages on the

nature of Greek roman ce should present more than stereotyped facts known to every lecturer upon fiction—that theplot of the Greek roman ce emphas izes the relation of love and

Reviews and N ates 483

adventure ; that the love is purely physical though chaste and

capable of endurance ; that the characters are cowardly and

dissimulating in general ; that Achilles Tatius introduces inChtophon and L eucippe coarse comic relief ; that the settingis vague, save for a peculiar fondness for digressive accountsof animals , pictures , etc . ; that stage terms are employed, as

well as highly artificial oxymoron ,antithesis , and homeophony ;

that , fin ally , the narrative of the Theagines cmd Chariotee,after plunging in medias res

,advances and retrogresses

at once, with dubious employment of suspense, whereas therelation of the ClitOphon and L eucippe and of th e Daphnis

and Chloe is of the type called “s traightforward .

” Most ofthese matters were alluded to by Amyot in 1 5 47 , by Sorel in1 627 , by Scudery in 1 641—not to mention their to my mindfinal treatment by Rohde in Der Gm

’

echfische Roman . N ew to a

certain extent, of course, areWolfi’s emphasis on the hieratic

tone of the Theagines and Chariotee, and his consequent distinction between the conflict of Providence and Fortune inthis romance as against the rule of Fortune almost alone inClitophon and L eucippe and of Eros and Fortune in Daphnisand Chloe. Had this material constituted the text of somedozen pages and all the remainder of the discussion beenrapidly given in a half-dozen more, the author

’

s volume wouldthus far be valuable to the specialist . As for the innumerablecitations proving points no one would possibly contest

,many

might have been relegated to footnotes , many more omitted .

1

1 If the reader think this j udgment harsh, let him consider thatWolff has used so much illustrative material that he has fallen intoyet another difficulty ; instances of self—contradiction abound. Thus ,on p. 132 we read :

“the

‘love-interest’

is nowhere based upon a suf

ficiently exalted conception of love, or upon a sufficiently sound‘

psychology

’

, or upon a sufficiently profound understanding of human

character, to be in itself ennobled ;”

on p. 1 5 5 we read of Melitta in

Clitophon and L eucippe :“for once , his analysis is entirely appropriate,perfectly measured, and qui te free from superficial rhetoric.” Of yet

another scene in the same work we are told :“The change of Melitta’

s

mood, so clearly and truthfully portrayed ; the impassioned eloquenceand power of her pleadings ; the real pathos of the situation ; makethe scene a masterpiece of serious , nay, almost tragic, characteri

zation .

”Again, on p. 139 we learn : Daphnis is utterly incapable o f

courage ;”but on p. 190 his courage is ably analyzed. F inally, for

any one who will read carefully may note other instances for himself,we observe on p. 132 : How this episode, so suggestive of later fiction,

got into C litophon and L eucippe, I cannot attempt to say. It is

connected with the main plot by only the slenderest of threads, and

the main action is in any case wholly unaffected by the chivalrous(s ic) character of Callisthenes

’

s love ;” to this statement comes a directcontradiction on p. 901 :

“This novella is bound to the main plot by a

single thread , but a very strong one : the abduction of Calligone rendersimpossible her marriage to ClitOphon as planned, and permits the

484 Tiej e

That in the second half of Wolff ’s thesis there is some new

material has already been stated . The discuss ion starts withthe influence of Greek romance upon Lyly

,dis cus ses its effect

upon Sidney, Greene, and N ash , and fin ishes with its relationto Lodge. Thereafter come three appendices , one upon the

resemblances of Amyot’

s and Day ’

s vers ions of Daphnis andChloe— this appendix being of much in teres t to investigatorsof fiction one upon the relations of the Old and the N ew Ar

cadia ; one upon Burton ’s translation of Clitophon and L eu

etppe.

Perhaps the most serious censure of the second half of

Wolff ’

s dissertation lies in its limitation of the field of investigation . If every parallelism of incident

,characterization

,set

ting, and style in E lizabethan fiction and Greek romance isto be attributed to borrowing—and such is Wolff ’

s attitudethen every possible source of influence must be minutelyscanned . Yet in the table of translations of Greek romancegiven on pages eight to ten

,there is no mention of the Span ish

vers ions— even though Underhill has devoted a ColumbiaUn ivers ity Study in L iterature”

to Spanish L iterature in the

England of the Tudors ; the very possible eflect of the Claree

y F lorisea (Sp . 1 5 5 2 ; F r . 1 5 5 4 ; Eng . 1 5 75 ) is never con

sidered ; above all, the influence of Boccaccio ’

s F iammetta,

which reached Spain in 1 492,Fran ce in 1 5 34, and England in

1 5 87,is totally ignored . The significance of these omissions

for Wolfi’

s argument may best be shown by remarking that,if no Greek romance had been known in England

, either theClaree y F lortsea or the F iammetta would have furnished

,one

the typical Greek plot, the other the typical Greek psychology to Elizabethan authors .

2 And, even ,

were there omiss ions ofno importance, what of the failure to evaluate the influence of

the Italian novelliem’

other than Boccaccio ? Of the Amadis

successful prosecution of his love-afl'

air with Leucippe . I repeatthat, were most of this illustrative material properly condensed intonotes , Wolff

’s meaning would be much clearer.

Incidentally, I personally should be inclined to que stion the at

tribution of the general structure of the Theag ines and Chariclea to

the struggle between Providence and F ortune ; is not the constantquest of the author for contras ts between hope-arousing and dismayinspiring adventures to be taken into consideration ? S imilarly, I doubtthe statement that Clitophon and L eucippe had no cause to flee. In

the first place, the midnight scene in Leucippe’s bed-room would

make most lovers want to flee ; in the second place, given Leucippe’s

shameless advances, ClitOphon could scarcely fail to attempt the midnight adventure. (cf. Wolff , p.

2 I am not claiming influence for these works . I merely insist thatan investigator should have considered them. Spanish novels , too,

like the C’laree y F loris ea ,were in England ; and Book V of the Amadia

de Gau la shows Greek influence.


486 Tiej e

developed greatly the device of pathetic optics whereverposs ible.

6 In the Arcadia, too, the influence of Achilles Tatiusis to be reckoned with . The famous execution scenes

, a number of names , the references to even ts in terms of the theater,the use of antithesis and oxymoron

, the employment of oratory—these are with some plausibility attributed to the influence

of the author of Clitophon and L eucippe— though it should besuggested that Sidney ’

s style surely owes something to thatdiction of Montemor ’

s Diana, so curiously called bax o estilo,and that the Amadis was a treasure-house constantly rifledfor all types of eloquence. What to say of Wolff ’

s treatmentof Greene furnishes a difficult problem. On the whole, wereI not distrustful of Wolff ’

s entire parallelistic method anduse of assumption ,

I should be inclined to accept such a s tatement as this (p. Thus in compounding Menaphon

Greene took something from Warner ; more from Sidney,and

,

through him, from Greek romance ; and most from Greek ro

mance direct . ” In general , also,one may agree with this

(p . 45 6 )“It (borrowing ) begins with mere transcripts from

Achilles Tatius in Arbasto, Morando, and Carde of F anciea stage of immaturity and superficiality , which , in the main ,

borrows non-structural ornament . Philomela, which seems tofall in immediately after this group

,shows Greene taking less

from Achilles Tatius (only the trial at the end ) , and morefrom Heliodorus

,chiefly by way of incident

,—not yet by way

of structure. The influence of the Greek romances reachesits height in Pandosto

,which takes a little from Achilles

Tatius,but now gets structure as well as matter from the solid

Heliodorus,together with incident and ornament from the

decorative Longus . The influence degenerates at once in

Menaphon flickers up for a moment in his half:realistic , half-autobiographical Groatsworth .

” It may , indeed ,be well, to close this review of a book

, often very cleverlyworded but always provocative of distrust of the “

specialpleader by showing how little is left to other source-huntersin conn ection with Greene, if Wolff ’

s account be accurate. Via

Boccaccio ’

s vanished sources come the first and second talesin Perimedes and the story of F abius and Terentia in Tullfies

L ove. The influence of Clitophon and L eucippe is seen in

Greene ’s

“Tychomania

”,through which Fortune is not only

mentioned innumerable times , but is invoked to move the plotneedfully or needlessly ; in the framework of Arbasto, in

I question entirely the statement (p.

“Pamela’s description

of Mus idorus on horseback is a palpable imitation of the descriptionof Theagenes riding in the pomp at Delphi.” Sidney’

s recognition of

his digressions is traced—and rightly, I think- to similar passages inthe Theagines and Chariclea .


Clinias’s invective against women in the Carde of F a/ncie, in

the painting of Europa in Morando in the use of such names

as L ewcippa, ClerOphontes , Thersander , Melytta ; in the rhetoric

,the characterization by soliloquy or antithetical analysis ,

the homeophony of style. The influence of the Theagz’

fnes and

Chariotee. is seen in its mention three times (Mamilia, II, 6, 7 ,91 ; A lctda. (IX ,

in Fortune becoming inventor of the

atrical situations and in the Eros motive ; in the entire plotof Menaphonf

—the oracle,the shipwreck, the establishment of

chastity by public trial, the pathetic optics ; in the dénouement

of the Carde of F a/nc’ie, of Tullz’

es L ove, and of Philomela;and in many “ mos t certainly borrowed ” incidents . The in

fluence of Daphnis and Chloe is seen in the use of the pastoralas an harmonious element in the solution of a longer s tory ;in the ridicule of shepherd life ; in the management by Loveand Fortune of the Menaphon in the general tone and manyof the incidents of both Menaphon and Dorastus and F awnia.

Que diable allait-il dans cette galere? May not one ask thisquestion of the shade of poor Greene ? 7

University ofMinnesota. ARTHtJR J TIEJE .

7 L odge mentions Heliodorus twice (F orbonifus and Pm’

sceria,I,

5 3, 5 4 ; R obert of N ormandy, I I , N ashe is uninfluenced .

LORD BYRON AS A SATIRIST IN VERSE . By ClaudeM. Fuess

,Ph .D. Columbia Un iversity Studies in English

and Comparative L iterature, Columbia Un ivers ity Press,

1 91 2 .

BYRON IANA UND ANDERES AUS DEM ENGLISCHEN

SEMINAR IN ERLANGEN . ERLANGEN,1 91 2 .

Dr. F uess’

s thes is is a contribution to our knowledgeof two much neglected fields of English literature. Satire,particularly later English satire, receives almost as little at

tention from investigators as from readers,and Lord Byron

,

though the subject of hundreds of articles and books , hasnever been given the scholarly consideration that has fallento the lot of most of his great contemporaries .

The book begins with a rapid survey of English satirefrom 1 660 to 1 809 and then proceeds to a chronological survey of Byron ’

s poetry . It is concerned principally withthe study of the influences at work upon Byron ’

s satires . Dr .

Fuess shows very clearly and in detail what studentshave in a general way surmised

,— that Byron ’

s early satireswere modelled rather closely upon the work of Pope

,

Churchill , Gifford, etc.

, while the later, freer ones,written

during his residence in Italy,were extensively influenced

488 Havens

by the poets of that country . The value of the dissertationdoes not lie in new discoveries or startling con clusions butin the examination for the first time of all Byron ’

s poetryexclusively as satire and in the study of the influences upon it. Yet the book is not without new facts . It is shown

,

for example, that Beppo, though suggested by Frere ’

s The

Monks and the Giants derives not a little from Frere ’s own

source, the Italians . Dr. Fuess makes clear that Byron was

familiar with Italian poetry s imilar to The Monks and the

Giants before that work appeared ; yet it may be that hestates his case somewhat too strongly and gives “Whistlecraft” less than his due. The most important fact to begained from the book is the extent of the influence of

Giambattista Casti (1 721 -1 804 ) upon Beppo, Juan , and The

Vision . Churton Collins pointed out Byron ’s indebtedn ess

to Casti’

s N ovelle and Dr . Fuess , following this clue, discovered that Gli Animali Parlanti and Il Poema Tartaro of

the same author may have had almost as great an influence.

If we have found an important new source for the style and

tone of Beppo and Don Juan, it is a matter of considerableimportan ce. Dr. F uess ’

s readers would be in a much betterposition to pas s judgment on this matter if they were givenin an appendix a number of consecutive pages of transla

tions from each of the important Italian poets dis cussed . Manypersons who will be drawn to the book will not have accessto Casti

’s work . It may be suspected , furthermore, that the

differences between the early and late satires were not due ex

clusively to Cas ti,Pulci

,and the rest but in part to the

difference between Byron the Oxford student and Byron the

man of the world. Al l readers would be glad if Dr . Fuesshad distingu ished the humorous element in the later workfrom the satirical .This general chapter on The Italian Influence is the mostvaluable in the book. It must be confessed that the later chapters which examine Don Jmm and The Vision of Judgment assatires are disappointing . What Dr . Fuess has to say on

these poems does not reach the heart of the matter or

measure up to the greatness of the pieces he is considering . This may be ungenerous criticism,

for it would bean unusual graduate student who could handle adequatelythese problems ; yet one cannot but wish that the authorhad waited a few years before publishing. One would,like

,for example, an analys is of what makes The Vision

of Judgment the great work it is . One would like an

adequate discussion of the elements that entered intoByron ’

s satiric spirit . Did he laugh at himself lest othersshould laugh at him ? How far are his sneers pose, how far


490 N otes

N OTES

Useful additions to the rapidly increasing number of modernizedand translated mediaeval texts are made in Professor Martha Hale

Shackford’s L egends and Satires from Mediae val L iterature (Ginn

and Co., The selections cover a wide range of material : Debate,Vision, Saints ’

L ives , Pious Tales , Allegory, Bestiary, L apidary,Homily, Satire, L ay ; and they have been j udiciously made. We mayquestion the wisdom of using a sixteenth century version of Philand F lora and we regret that the interesting description of a lay whichprefaces the English S ir Orfeo in two out of three MS S . has been omi tted from Professor Shackford’

s reprint of thi s poem. Ou the otherhand she has done well to print the simple Middle English text of

the Orfeo . A brief introduction in which the matter published is

brought into general relation With the work of Chaucer and notes of

a descriptive and bibliographical character contribute to the value of

an uncommonly useful book . The frontispiece is a reproduction fromF ra Angelico

’

s L as t Judgment.The Minor Poems of Joseph Beaumon t (Houghton Mitflin Company,

1914, is a painstaking edition by Miss E loise R obinsonof a unique manuscript owned by Professor Palmer.

“The manuscript

contains 1 77 poems ; of thes e thirty were published in the 1 749 editionwith large omissions, here mentioned in the textual notes .

”F rom this

quotation it will be seen that Miss R obinson’s volume is one of con

siderable importance in bringing to light poems not in the editions and

in setting right the text of a number that are improperly printed there .

Besides , she has written a critical and carefully documented life of thepoet and a competent estimate of his poetry. The parallels to Beau

mont’s verses which Miss R obinson finds in contemporary poetry and

to which several pages of her introduction are devoted, are interesting,however they may be interpreted in individual cases . The frontispieceof the volume is a portrait of Beaumont. We wish to congratulatethe publishers upon the beautiful pages with th eir clear type and Widemargins and indeed upon the general format of the book.

In R udolf F ischer’s Quellen zu Konig L ear (A . Marcus u . E .

W'

ebers Verlag, Bonn, 1 9 14) we have the first of the series Shakespeares Que llen published under the auspices of the Deutsche S hakes

pearez G’esells chaft, with Professor Brandl as editor-in-chief. Apart

from a brief introduction to the series by the general editor, the

volume contains nothing in the way of editorial comment or annotation,

unless we except a schematic iibers ieht of the relations of the sources.

Each one of the six“Quellen

”is accompanied page by page with a

German translation , in some cases the translation of S imrock revi sed byF ischer. It should be added that the series inaugurated by ProfessorF ischer’s book undertakes to supply the deficiencies of the CollierHazlitt Shakespeare’

s L ibrary .

The College Chau cer, (Yale University Press, N ew Haven, 1 913,

net) , edited by Professor MacCracken, though not a completeedition ,

presents more of the poetry of Chaucer than can easily be

read in the class-room in the course of a year. The typography of

the book is incomparably better than what the complete Chaucersfurnish and there is a glossary, which besides definition and etymologiessupplies much information that is ord inarily to be found in notes . The

appendix dealing with Pronunciation, L anguage, N otes on Special Usage,etc., is brief.

In his Phone tic Spelling, A proposed universal A lpha bet for the

rendering of E ng lis h , F rench , German and all other forms of speech ,

(Cambridge : at the University Press, S ir Harry Johnston rep

N otes 491

resents his phonetic alphabet as a combination of the best featuresof the work of Volney, Lepsius, N orris, Barth, Koelle, Sweet, Meinhof and the International Phonetic A ssociation With a few originalideas of his own . Hoping that the nations of the world will soon desireto adopt a universal phonetic alphabet he lays great stress upon thepractical side of his system, which uses only such symbols as could

be easily employed in writing with the hand. He recommends for

English that a standard pronunciation be established by an authoritativerepresentative committee recruited from all parts of the English speaking territory. This standard pronunciation should then be spelled phonetically by means of this new alphabet.

VERLAG DER WIEDMANNSCHEN BUCHBAND

LUNG IN BERLIN.

Soeben ers chienen

VomMittelalterzur Reformation

Forschungen zur Geschichte der deutschen Bildung

Im Auftrage der Konigl. Preussischen Akademie derWissenschaften herausgegeben von

Konrad Burdach

Zweiter Band

Briefwechsel des Cola di RienzoHerausgegeben von

Konrad Burdach und PaulPiur

Dritter Te il . KritischerTex t, LesartenundAnmerkungen.

Mit 3 Faks imilebeilagen. Gr. (XXIIIu. 471 S . )Geh. 16 M.

V i erter Te il . Anhang. Urkundliche Quellen zur Ges chichte

Rienzos . Oraculum Angelicum Cyrilli undKommentar

des Ps eudojoachim. Gr. (XVIu. 35 4 S . ) Geh

12 M.

Die vorliegenden beiden Teile bieten den erhaltenen Bestand aller

von Rienzo und an ihn ergangenen Briefe, sowie aller seine Person be

treffenden gleichzeitigen urkundlichen Quellen in kritischer Herstellung

und eine Ubersicht der zu Grunde liegenden handschriftlichen Uberlieferung .

Die vorangehenden Teile folgen spater.


494 Gurme

to this interpretation by syntactical form or by appropriatestress .

The fact that a very large number of the oldes t compoundshave been replaced by a syntactical group seems to indicateclearly that these old formations were not compounds at all ,but were groups or phrases . The non-inflection of the first

member of these old groups indicates that in the oldest periodof the language nouns and adjectives were not inflected. The

thought was expressed by the mere jux taposition of the words .

These old groups survived in the later order of things becausethey had assumed a peculiar meaning which could not be ex

pressed by the newer system of inflection . They were felt ,however, as groups , not as compounds . The idea of a com

pound had not yet developed out of these groups . As long as

they were felt as groups they were left undisturbed, for theywere clearly differentiated from the new groups by the non

infiection of the first member.

Great confusion arose,however, when these old groups began

to develop into compounds and thus ceased to be groups . Some

of the old groups had become compounds , some remainedgroups

,but both had a heavy stress on the first element , and

thus group could not be distingui shed from compound. The'

confusion was increas ed by the development of a large num

ber of new compounds out of the new groups with inflection inthe first member

,as in Frauenhand, Gé tteshaus , etc. Thus in

the old groups and the newer groups there was no way to dis

tinguish compound from group .

In English there arose a s trong desire to bring law and or

der into this chao tic condition by distingui shing sharply between group and compound. The old formations were left un

disturbed where they had developed into compounds , butwere dissolved into groups where the group-idea prevailed“ house warming”

(festivity ) , but “ warming the house“ wool-gathering (idle reverie) , but

“ gathering wool”muckraking”

,but

“ raking muck etc. L ikewi se “shop

7 ’ Nlifting glé betrotting”,

“ hairsplitting”,etc. L ikewisewords

with specialized meanings , as “ wool-growing ”,

“sheep-shear

ing”,etc. The natural impulse to differentiate the meaning

here is strong in English , but much stronger is the feeling for

Modern Groupstress in German and English 495

the modern group-form . Thus in most cases old groups wi thspecialized meaning are dissolved into modern groups wherever the idea of group becomes pronounced. Thus we usuallysay

“He is busy with shearing sheep ”, rather than “ with

sheep-shearing”. We reserve “

sheep-shearing” for the

specialized idea of a trade.

German, on the other hand, has remained wonderful ly con

servative and often preserves the old group-formation wherethe group -idea is even clearly present : ‘Wegen einer Képfver

le‘

tzung bleibt er zu Hause”. Here the old form has been re

tained although the group-idea is pronounced . In English wemust say :

“on account of injuring his head German also

can often dissolve the old form in to a modern group : “die

Verletzung des Kopfes ”In such cas es there is usually a

slight difierentiation between the old group-form and the new

group-form . This gives German very often a pecul iarly richdi fferentiation not found in English . In German also

,how

ever, the modern group-form must be assumed when any am

biguity might arise. This is especially liable to happen in

groups with a genitive as the firs t member, whenever there isbefore the genitive an article that belongs to the last member,as in

“die heilige gottes bitenunge (Sch iinbach

’s"Altdeutsche

Predigten ”,III. 27

,We now prefer to say

“die heilige

Offenbarung Gottes as We desire to indicate clearly thatGottes ”

is a subjective gen itive to distinguish it from the

Gottes that enters into firm compounds , such as“Gottes

haus ”, where both components blend into one word to form one

idea. The frequent ambiguity here has led to the entire disappearance of this construction as a modern group . It only

survives as a compound,as in

“Gotteshaus ”

, or as a“ group

word”, as in Hé rzensergiessung

In the modern group,as in die Offenbarung Gottes”

, the

s tressed modi fyi ng element is usually placed after the governing noun to distinguish it from the compound which regu

larly has its stressed modifying component before the governing noun . The writer in his

“ Development of the AnalyticalGenitive in Germanic ” (Modern Philology, vol . 1 1 ) has

des cribed other forces that led to the placing of the modifyingelement after the governing noun . In all these cas es the trans

496 Curme

fer of the strongly stres sed modi fying element to a place afterthe govern ing noun changed the position of the group-stress .

The accent now rested upon the las t member of the group .

This establishment here of the group-s tress upon the last member helped so lve other problems . Adjectives and often also

genitives remained in their old historic position before the

governing noun . Group could now be dis tinguished from com

pound by leaving to the compound its old s tress upon the first

member and by giving to the group the modern group-s tress

upon the las t member : des Kdnigs S é e”, but

“Klinigssee

”

(city ) “die jung (later always junge) Frau

”,but die Jung

frail ”.

The chronology of the developmen t is most easily fix ed in

English where the movemen t was s trongest and most clearly

marked by formal change. The development is traced by the

gradual trans fer of adverbial and objective modifiers to a

pos ition after the governing word . These s trongly stressed

modifiers brought with them their strong s tress and in course

of Middl e English es tablished firmly a new group-stress withthe accent upon the last syllable. In English the old group

stres s upon the first syllable was entirely destroyed except in

cas e of real compounds like “ house warming”and old groups

with specialized meaning like “sheep shearing ”

. Other old

groups were entirely destroyed . As we shall see below this wasquite di fferent in German . Thus it is quite evident that the

chief force at work in the dissolution of old groups in Englishwas the s trong feeling for modern group-stress .

In German ,on the other hand

,there is s till a vivid feeling

for the old group-stress upon the first element . It exists in

countless cas es : “er will F etter mdchen”

;“er hat F etter

gemdcht”

. Thus it is only natural that with the strong sup

port of this common group-s tress in such old groups withverbal elements it should be preserved in other old groups

containing verbal elements : “ Kopfverletzung” “Blutver

giessen ”;

“Blutverlust ” ; Hausdurchsuchung etc. The

strong stress upon the first member of these old groups gave

a distinct shade of meaning to the firs t member and made

natural the retention here of the old stress . This led to the

development of a new stress—a logical stress upon the first


Curme

wantonly destroyed ,but may be retained and become the

source of new power .

We have three stages of group-develOpment : (1 ) Kopfver

letzung 2 ) Tages licht (the members originally written apart ,but in this word-order and with this stress ) (3) Verletzungdes Kopfes , L icht des Tages . The formations of the first stage

are the oldest . We call them “old group-words”

. Those of

the second stage are younger. We call them “ younger group

words ”. Those of the third stage we call “ modern groups

To these three classes of group-formations correspond the following three classes of compounds : (1 ) Abendmahl , héus ewarming, etc.

“old compounds ”

(2 ) Gotteshaus,Jung

frau,gentleman , etc.

,

“ younger compounds ”(3) Mutter

gottes ( image of the Virgin Mary ) der Hohepriester,zufrieden ,

instead,modern compounds The writer recom

mends these terms instead of those now in use.

A more detailed account of the dissolution of Old Englishgroup-words into modern groups will appear soon in Anglia”

under the heading “The Gerund in Old English ”

.

N orthwestern University . G. O. GURME .

Germanic Etymologles 499

GERMANIC ETYMOLOGIES

1 . OE . s can‘ake

’

,MLG. eken

,ecken,

‘eitern ’

,eh, ak

‘Eiter, eiterndes Geschwii r , bes . Finger geschwiir ’

,EF ries .

tik e eh‘

ein kleines , btisartiges , sehr schmerzhaftes E itergeschwur

’

, etc.,probably come from the primary meaning

‘swell ’. Compare Lett . figa

‘Beere, Blatter, Pocke ’

,L ith .

alga,‘Beere, Kirs che ’

, OBulg . (j ) agoda‘ Frucht ’

, Czech j ahoda‘Beere ’

earlier also‘Wange ’

,etc. Here also belong Goth .

akran Frucht ’

,OSwed. akarn, OE . wcem ‘

acorn ’

,etc. (cf.

L iden ,IF . XVIII, 5 03 if ) .

2 . OE . dc‘oak

’

, dc-melo ‘

acorn ’

, ON . elk, OHG. c'ih, OS . eh‘E iche ’

are from Germ .

”"arlk

‘acorn : acorn-tree, oak

’

, whencethe demin . OHG. eicht

'

la, MDu . eihel, ekel‘E ichel ’

,etc. That

the‘

acorn ’was not named from the

‘oak

’

, but the‘oak

’ from

the‘acorn ’

is probable from Gr. fidkavog‘an acorn or any

such fruit : the trees which bear these fruits ’

. Hence the IE .

*“aig or

”“et

’

g of the above would mean ‘swelling, bunch , lump ’

or‘ projection

,point ’

. These mean ings would fit in Gr . aiyig‘a yellow kernel in the pith of the pine ; a speck in the eye ;

(boss , umbo ) shield, aegis ’

,aiyavén (point , Spitze) ‘

spear,javelin ’

,aiyikcoq)

‘a kind of oak with sweet fruit ’

,perhaps

also in the sense‘a kind of o ats ; an ulcer in the eye

’

,though

differently explained by Boisacg , Diet. E't. 21 .

The meaning as sumed as underlying these words could havedeveloped from the meaning in Skt. é j ati

‘riihrt sich , bewegt

sich ’.

Or poss ibly an IE .

*ae

°

g‘swell ’ may have existed

,with

which wemay compare (whether related or not) various otherbases ”“

aix (or*eix with the ablaut * oix (or Wise ) . Com

pare Nos . 3-8 .

3. ON . eigin‘eben hervorgesprossener Saatkeim

’: Gr.

alx koc'

ai ymvlaz 1 06 Békoug Hes ,alxpw

'

;‘the point of a spear ;

spear, dart , arrow ; scepter ’

,Q Ir . del

‘fus cina

, tridens’

,L ith .

e'

szmas ‘

Bratspiess ’

, OPruss . aysmis id. (cf. Boisacg , Diet. fit.

24 with lit ) . Or the ON . and Gr . words may have IE . q

OPruss . ayculo‘Nadel ’ (Fick III“

, Or finally ON .

elgin, Gr . aixu'fi, together with QB. ig (i) l, OHG. igil

‘Igel ’

may have IE . gh z ChS . igle‘N adel ’

,LRuss

,ihld

‘Nahnadel

5 00 Wood

Dorn,Stachel ’, Serb .

-Cr . iglice‘kleine Nadel

,Sprosse ’

,etc.

(id. ibid. ; Berneker , E t.Wb.

4. OE . cite‘

oat’

,N orw. eitel

‘Druse, Knoten ,Knospe ’

,

ON . eitell‘Druse, Knorren am Baum ’

,NIcel . eitill

‘ gland ’

,

MHG . etzel‘kleines eiternades Geschwiir

’

,eiz

‘Geschwii r,

Eiterbeule ’

,eiter, OHG. eitar

‘

Gift ’

, etc. : Gr . olBog‘

swelling,tumor ’

,olBua

‘

swell of the sea, wave, billow ’oié éw

,

‘swell, swell

up ; be tumultuous’

,013n

‘a swell ing up, fermenting ’

,Arm.

wit‘Wange ’

,aitnum ‘

s chwelle ’

,Lat. aemxldus ‘

tumidus ’

(if

for * wedmidus, cf . Walde, E t. Wb.

2 1 5 with5 . Goth .

‘Erz,Geld ’

,ON . eir

‘ brass,copper

,bronze ’

,

OE . dr‘ brass , copper

’

,NE . ore, OHG. er

‘Erz,E isen ’

, etc. ,

Lat. aes‘ore, brass , bronze

’

,Skt. dyah

‘Erz,E isen ’

(cf.

Walde, E t. Wb.

2 1 7 with IE .

*a/ies or ages

‘ lump,mass

(of metal ) Compare No . 6.

6. OE . is‘

ice’

,ON . 633, OHG.

fls‘Eis

’

, etc. ,may be from

="fiso‘ chunk

,lump ’

: ChS l. isto‘ testiculus ’

,OBulg . istesa

pl.‘N ieren ’

, ON . eista.‘ tes ticle ’

: MLG.-ben

‘

Hiiftbein ,Eis

bein ’

,MDu . ij s ise-been

‘ hip bone ; os sacrum ’. F or meaning

compare Czech km ‘Klumpen ; E isscholle ’

,Russ . ihm ‘

Eis

scholle ’

; ihre‘Wade ’

.

7 . OE . dd‘heap ; funeral pile fire, flame

’

, OHG. eit‘Glut ,

Scheiterhaufen ’

, Gr. ales)‘flame ’

,Lat. aestus

‘waving,billowy

motion : fire, glow ; swell , surge’

,Ir . deal

‘Feuer ’ Welsh aldd‘E ifer

,Hitze ’

, etc. ; ON .fits

‘ res tless motion ’

, the eddy,whirl

pool ’, the

‘move to and fro,

fidget’

, Skt. e'

dhate,‘wachst ,

gedeiht , wird gross ’

(author, Color-Names8 . OE . (Elan

‘ burn,burn up ; kindle, light

’

,ci ded

‘fire

,fire

brand ’

,ON . eldr

‘fire

’

: Welsh i lio ‘ garen ’

,flied

‘

Garung ’

,

Swab . illeh‘Beule ’

,OF ries .

filfl‘ Schwiele ’

,OE . ile

‘ callos ity ;sole of the foot ’

,L at. ma ‘

fiank’

, Wz.

* f£l etwa ‘schwellen ’

,

Walde, E t. WI) .

2 378 .

9 . OE . dfor‘ harsh (to taste) fierce, vehement

’

,OHG.

wiper, ether‘

acerbus , amarus,horridus ’

: early NBG. yfer‘Eifersucht ’

,NHG. E ifer (Weigand

,412 ) Gr . altpa

‘ qui ck

with speed ’

,alqmpég

‘ quick,speedy, sudden ’

,a

’

z'

cpvnc;‘

on a

sudden ’

,aiwég

‘

steep , lofty’

,aim»;

‘ headlong,sudden ; high and

steep ; fierce (anger ) painful , diflicult ’. According to others


5 02 Wood

beck, E t. Wb.

gand Germ.

*gadj a is from pre

-Germ .

*ghadhio rather than *

g“hodhio

Compare Russ .-ChSl. u-goda.

‘Wohlgefal len ’

, goditi‘

ge

fallen ’

,Russ . dial . godz’ t ‘

zogern , warten ; zielen ’

,Bulg. god

'li.‘s chaue worauf

,sorge wofur , bereite vor ; suche eine Gelegen

heit ; verlobemi ch’

,Pol . godete

‘

unterhandeln,mieten ,

dingen ;aussohnen ; auf j emd. eindringen ; trachten wonach ’

, godea‘Lust , Wunsch ’

, etc. : MLG . gaden‘ pas sen , gefallen , sich

gatten,’No. 12 .

14. OE . gor‘ dung

,dirt ’

,NE. gore

‘ thick or clotted blood ’

,

dial . gore, gor ‘

di rt,mire

, slime’

, gurr‘mud

,dirt ’

, vb.

‘defile

,

soil with mud,do dirty work ’

ON . gor‘the half digested fod

der in the inwards of animals NIcel. gor‘cud ; chyme ’

,Swed .

gorr , gdr‘

pus ; contents of the stomach ’

,Norw. gor

‘mud,slime ; chyme ’

, OHG. gor‘Mis t, Diinger ’

,NHG. Swiss gur

‘ frischer Kot des R indviehs ’

,MLG. gore

‘Mistpfutze’ MDu .

gore, goor‘filth

,slime ; fishroe ; mire, marsh ’

, goor filthy’

,

etc. , Germ .

*gum

‘wet, moisture, slime ’

, etc.

These words are referred in Fick III‘

,1 28 f . to a Germ .

root ger‘

(warm sein ) g'

ahren’. Cf. Schade

,Wh fi

,341 f . ;

Franck,E t. Wb.

2 201 . But the words that may properlybe referred to a Germ.

*ger

‘

g'

ahren’ differ in meaning from

Germ .

*gum of the above, though , no doubt

,the various

derivatives of these two bases as well as others from the root”“j es

‘

gahren’ were more or less confused .

Germ.

”“gura

‘wet, moisture, slime ’

,etc. may come from

pre-Germ .

t

g‘

hu-ro, root”*g

‘

hea‘ giessen ’

: Gr . xfiuég‘ juice,

liquid ; taste ’

,whence late Lat. chy

‘

mus‘the fluid of the

s tomach ’

,NE . chyme ( :N Icel, gor Gr . xaxag

‘ juice,mois ture ; juice drawn out by di gestion ,

chyle ; flavor , taste’

;

Goth . gzutan‘ giessen ’

; ON . g wsa‘

gush forth ’

,Norw . gysj a

‘slime

,mud ; wind with rain or snow ’

, gyrj a‘slime, mud ; wet

weather ’

, gor‘

,slime mud ; chyme

’

gom‘eat gluttonously ’

gwrma‘make muddy ; eat continuous ly, munch ’

, gyrma‘

sedi

ment , dregs ; slime, mud ; cloudines s ’

etc.

1 5 . MLG. gore‘Gahrung und der s ich dabei entwickelnde

starke Geruch ’

,MDu . gore, genre

‘ fragrance, odor ’

, gore7i‘emit odor ’

, Du . gear‘Duft

,Wohlgeruch ’

, geuren‘ duften ;

prunken ’ may represent Germ.

*gur in the above or

Germanic Etymologfles 5 03

geus early Du . guysen‘effluere cum murmure seu strepitu

’

,

ON . gwsa‘spout gush out

’

, gusa‘ gush , spurt out ’

,Norw .

gusa‘ blow gently gosa

‘ breeze, gust ; babble’

, gose‘stream of

air or vapor ’

, geysa‘ bubble, efiervesce ; babble

’

, qeyseh‘

boast

ful’

, etc root ”*g

‘

heu also in Norw. gave, gj ilva,‘

rauchen ,

dampfen Dan . gyve‘ dampfen ,

rauchen ,stinken ’

,ON . ,

N Icel .

gufa ‘s team ,

vapor ’

, gufa ‘steam,

reek ’

, gubba‘Vomit ’

,N orw .

gauva‘ rauchen gahren ,

aufbrausen ,schaumen ’

, gubba‘dam

pfen’

,EF ris . gubbeln

‘ brodeln ,brausen ’

. Compare the fol

lowing.

1 6 . MLG. gole‘ Sumpf

,feuchte N iederun g, mit Weiden

oder schlechtem Holze bewachsen ’: (Gr . xfilxég

‘ juice, moisON .

,N Icel . gala

‘ gentle breeze ’

,Shetl . gol

‘blast ’

, gula‘wind ’

, gola‘wind, blas t bad weather with heavy wind ’

,

Norw. gel, gul, gala, gula breeze, wind ’

, gule‘ gus t of wind ’

,

gula‘ blow ’

, gaula id.

, gaul‘ gus t of wind ; breeze, wind ’

1 7 . OHG. chez’

bo, MHG . heibe‘Leichnam,

Aas ; Viehseuche ; Mensch , der den Galgen verdient ’

,NHG . Als . heib

‘Aas ; schlechtes Pferd, magere Kuh ; Schuf t, Schelm (grobesSchimpfwort ) Loth . heib

‘ Schelm,Schuft ; Sonderling ’

,

MHG . heibic‘

pestilens’

,Als . helbig

‘in Folge von schlechter

Behandlung struppig ; elend, s chlecht ’

,verheiben

‘Verhunzen ,

verderben ; verleumden verschwenden’

, etc. ,may be referred

to ON . ketir‘s chief, krumm ’

,Norw . keit) id .

,he’lva

‘make

crooked :

sway ’

,heiva,

‘ left hand ’

,Swed . dial. hé va id.

,LG.

hippen wanken ,s chwanken

,umwerfen ’

, etc.

The primary meaning is therefore ‘sway, bend droop,

giveway , perish ’

,etc. So we may further compare L ett . gibt, é eibt

‘ohnm

'

achtig, schwindelig werden ’

, gaiba,‘F aslerin ,

Torin ’

,

and also gibt‘

sich biicken ’

(cf. Trautmann ,KZ . X LII

,

The following, which according to Berneker,E t. Wb. 373,

belong to a Slay . bas e *gyb

”“gub may in part represent a

root *geib(h) Serb . is-po-gibati

‘umkommen ,

fallen (von

einer Menge) g‘

lnut‘

vi‘ zugrundegehen ,

dahinschwinden ’

, p3

gibao‘Verderben ’

, Slay . giniti‘ dahinschwinden ’

,

fiz-gibati‘

vers chwinden ’

,Pol . gimpe

‘Verloren gehen ,vers chwinden ’

OBulg . gybatz’ ‘ zugrunde gehen ,

Verderben ’

, pré -gybati‘beu

gen’

, etc.

5 04 Wood

1 8 . NE . cozy‘

snug, comfortable, warm ,social ’, Sb.

‘a kind

of padded covering or cap put over a teapot to keep the teawarm ’

, ooze‘

be snug,comfortable, or cozy, cuddle

’

, case‘any

thing snug,comfortable

,or cozy ; a cozy conversation ’

(inthis sense probably influenced by F r . causem

'

e) , Scotch cosh‘neat snug, quiet , comfortable ’

,and also ME . cosche, NE . dial .

cosh a cottage, hovel ’ belong to a Germ . bas e ="flceus‘ curve,

bend ; bend down ,cuddle

,snuggle ; bend out, swell

’: ON . hiess

‘Htihlung , Bucht ’

,ESwed. dial . louse ‘ inner corner of the eye ;

blis ter, eruption ’

,kusa

‘swell

,cause to puff up Norw. dial .

kilsa‘ bun ch of flowers , cluster of trees

’

,hos , kosa

‘ heap,p ile '

,

kysj a‘mas s

,heap ’

,kause

‘a little pompous person ’

,hausen

‘ pompous,important ’

,heyse a heavy , clumsy thing or person ’

.

These and other related words have a wide variety of meaning, but they can all be combined under the primary meaning

‘ bend down,in

,out

’

. Compare the following.

1 9. OS . kdsko adv .

‘mit An stand ’

,MLG. kitsch

‘ keusch ’

,

MDu . cuusch, Du . kuisch‘ reinlich

, sittsam,keusch ’

,OHG.

kaski‘

sobrius , pudicus , honestus , modestus’

,hasko

‘ cas te,honeste, sobrie, parce ’

,MHG . kiusche

‘keusch,rein

,unschul

dig,s ittsam

,s chamhaft ; m'

assig im Essen u . Trinken ; ruhig,sanftmii tig

’

,NHG. keusch

‘ chas te,pure, modes t

’

,Tirol . ‘ zart,

zierlich,hiibsch

’

,BaV .

-Austr .

‘

diinn,fein ,

zart,schwachlich

’

(eh . Kluge, E t. Wb. s . Steir. ‘s chlank, schmachtig ,

schwach,zart

,diinn

,fein ,

leicht verletzbar ’

(Unger-Khull 38 5 )These words are explained in Kluge, E t. Wb., and Wei

gand 5as mean ing primarily ‘ rein ’

. But how coul d suchmeanings as

‘s chlank, schmachtig, s chwach , diinn ,

zart,fein ’

,

etc.

,come from ‘ rein ’

? The primary mean ing was rather‘ bending

,yieldi ng

,retiring ’

,hence ‘modest , chas te ; gentle ;

delicate, dainty ; weak, soft ’

,etc.

Compare Scotch cosh‘

neat, snug, quiet, comfortable ’

,NE .

cozy‘snug

,comfortable, warm ’

,etc. (No . Norw . dial .

husa‘ bend down ’

,root ”“

gf

¢Z *“geu MHG‘

r. hfime‘

diinn ,

schwach,gebrechlich ’

, OHG. chfimig‘

s chwach,kraftlos ’

, OE .

cyme, cgmlic‘ zierli ch , lieblich ’

,NE . comely

‘ handsome,graceful ’

(which has been crossed with mean ings belonging tobecome) .

20. ESwed. dial . krasa ‘ grabbing hand or fis t’

,krasa

‘

card,grab

,gather ’ belong to the Germ. root ”“hms

‘draw together,


5 06 Wood

Here also belong the following : Du. dial . Hageland . rij e‘

pfliigen’

(Tuerlinchx WF lem. inm'

e’n,

-rij den‘

met den

ploeg inrooien ,inakkeren

’

,

‘ plow in omm’

en‘di e bovenkorst

van cenen akker met den ploeg scheuren en breken ,ombeeren ,

slooven’

,

‘ dé chaumer ’

,opm

’

en‘ diep omploegen om te zaaien of

to planten ,opeeren

’

: (L ith . rekin pfliige zum . ersten Mal ) ,Men ‘

wiihl en’

,

‘van mollen die onder de Oppervlakte van den

grond zich eene pijp wroeten ; eene prikkeling in de neus ver

wekken ,sprek. van goed levendig bier

’

(De Bo-Samyn 406,

667, 694, 813 Schuermans

The forms with d are due to false association with men,rij den

‘ride ’

.

24. OE . ropp‘ intestine

,colon ’

,ME . rep (pl . roppes )

‘ intestines ’

,MDu . rap, roppe

‘

entrails of an an imal,

fish

entrails ’are, so far as I know

,unexplained . They probably

belong to MDu . ,MLG. roppen

‘ rupfen ’

,MHG . rapfen, rup

fen‘ rupfen , zausen , zupfen , pfiii cken

’

,Goth . raupj cm

‘rup

fen’

, etc. F or meanings compare NE . pluck‘

a pull, tug : the

heart, liver, and lungs or lights of a sheep , ox , or other an imal

used as butchers ’ meat ’.

25 . Goth . sho’

hs‘ Schuh ’

, ON . Sher, OE . sco’

h,GEG. souok,

etc. represent a Germ.

*sho

'

ha the primary meaning of whichwas probably ‘ clump

,clog ’

. This primary meaning is indicated by MHG. sehuoch-beln

‘Wade ’

,i . e.

‘ bulge-leg’. Com

pare ON . sha’

yr (clump )‘wood ; bush

’

, OE . scaga‘ copse ’

,

ON .,N Icel . skaga

‘

j ut out, project’

,skagi

‘ cape,headland,

promontory ’

,Norw . dial . shear,

‘schief ’

,MHG. schaake

‘

schielend ’.

These may be related to OBulg . shoka‘ Sprung ’

,shoé iti

‘springen ’

, MHG. schehen‘eilen ’

, etc. (Cf . Zupitza, Gutt.

This brings us to the connection made by Uhlenbeck,Et. Wb.

2,134 : Goth . shé hs etc. : OHG. seeham, OBulg . skokd,

etc.

These may be referred to a root *shh~e

’

lc with which com

pare *shheng in Skt. hhafij ati

‘hinkt ’

,Gr . ex oti ca

‘ limp ’

,ON .

skahka, shekkiu

,

‘

schief machen ’

, shakhr‘ hinkend

,schief ’

,

Dan . shank‘ lahm ’

: OE . scanca‘shank, leg

’

,MHG . schenkel,

schinhe‘ Schenkel

,Schinken ’

, etc. (author, IF . XVIII, 272.

Germanic Etymologies 5 07

26. MHG . schedel‘ Schadel ; Trockenmass ’

, early NHG.

also hirn-scheitel, MDu . schedel, scheel‘ lid ; eyelid ; skull ’

,

Du . schedel‘ cover

,lid

,bowl ’

,MLG. sehedel

‘Biichse, Dose

’

.

schldele‘Beh

'

altnis,Kiste ’ point to a primary mean ing ‘

some

thing round ’an d may be referred to OHG. sceida

‘ Schwertscheide ’

,OS . shetta, OE . scé p, ON . sketfier

‘sheath ’

,Swed .

skids‘ Scheide ; Schote, Hulse ’

.

With these compare Q Ir . solath, Welsh ysgwyd, QBret, scott‘shield ’

,OBulg . see: id.

,and perhaps Lat. scatum

‘

shield ’

(of. Fick II,4 primarily ‘ disk,Scheibe ’

: Q Ir . sciath‘shoulderblade ’

,Welsh ysgwyd ‘ humerus

’

.

27 OE . wearte‘wart ’

, ON . varta, OR G. warza‘Warze ’

,

etc .

,represent pre-Germ .

*uordon -d

‘

swelling ’

,with which

we may compare Slay . Mercia‘Geschwur

’in Pol . wrzod

,

Czech mi

ed, ChSl. vre’

dz‘

l,Russ . ve

’

redt‘

l, etc. Thes e are re

ferred by Mikkola, Urslav . Gram. 94,to Lat.

fvarus

‘ blotch ,pimple ’

,L ith . virus , Ir . ferh ‘Finn e ’

,but without mentioning

the Germ . words . F or other related Germ . words cf. MLN .

XXIX,72 .

FRAN CIS A . Woon.

University of Chicago.

5 08 N ordmeyer

DAS SCHALLANALYTISCHE VERHAL TN IS VON

GOTTFRIEDS VIERZEILERN ZU DEN ER

ZAHLENDEN PARTIEN DES “TRISTAN .

Sievers kons tatiert in seinem Aufsatz ZuWernhers Marienliedern ” 1

p . 13 if . einen prinz ipiellen rhythmisch-melodischenGegensatz zwischen den Vierzeilern in Gottfrieds “

Tristan ”

und den gewiihnlichen Reimpaaren des Gedichts . Die knap

pe Schallanalyse, die er mit den damals noch wen ig ausge

bildeten Mitteln seiner neuen Kritik an zwei entsprechendenBelegpartien anstellte, ist immerhin ausreichend, diesen Gegensatz erkennbar zu machen . Worum es sich fiir mich also alleinhandelt , ist die Aufiassung der Differenz . Sievers glaubt

,es

verhalte sich damit genau so wie in Schil lers “Glocke” mit

dem rhythmisch-melodischen Gegensatz zwis chen den Stro

phen,die sich auf den Glockenguss beziehen und den betrach

tenden Strophen . Da die N eudrucke in den Rhythmisch

melodischen Studien Umarbeitungen prinzipiell ausschliessen ,

ist es leider unmoglich zu sagen ,ob Sievers an seinem Stand

punkt noch jetzt festhalten wurde. Ich jedenfalls gewann ,

anders als er,bei unbefangenem L esen des Tristan den Ein

druck, als stellten die Vierzeiler nur eine besondere Unterart

der gewiihnlichen Gottfriedischen Verse dar , deren von diesen

abweichende Rhythmik und Melodik sich bei den gegebenenUmstanden erst sekundar im Dichter ergeben musste ; bei Schiller dagegen—das wird man zugeben—haben wir ganz generellabsolut und bewusstermassen vers chieden gebaute Verse vor

uns,woruber also fur uns re Zwecke keine Untersuchung

weiter notig ist. Zur Erh'

airtung meiner Ans icht iiber Gottfried lege ich nun die folgenden Untersuchungen vor . Dass

eine befriedigende L lisung der Aufgabe, die ich mir gestellt,auch zur Klarung uns res prinzipiellen Standpunkts mittel

alterlicher Rhythmik und Melodik gegenuber ihr Teil bei

tragen wurde, gedenke ich am Schlusse zu zeigen .

Worauf es Sievers bei der ganzen Erorterung offenbar

besonders ankommt,ist die Verdeutlichung des Unterschieds

1 Zuerst erschienen in der F estgabe fur H ildebrand”1894, Wieder

abgedruckt in S ievers ’ “Rhythmisch—Melodischen S tudien”

, Heidelberg,1912 (wonach ich zitiere) .


5 10 N ordmeyer

sache zunachst zugegeben ,namlich untersuchen

,was diese

Dipodien verursacht hat, so finden wir in den angefiihrten

Beispielen ,und zumal in v . 320-21

, stets irgend eine Sinneskontras tierung, eine Pointierung, einWortspiel . In der Natur

der Sache liegt es dann in der deutschen Sprache,dass j e

ein Wort , bzw . seine Tonsilbe, auf beiden Seiten der Gegen

uberstellung einen starken Nachdruck auf sich zieht , di e j euhrig bleibende Hebung also rhythmisch zurii cktritt— z di e

Dipodie ist fertig, wenigstens eine ausserliche. L'

asst s ichzeigen

,dass die Dipodien der Vierzeiler auf gleiche Weise

entstanden s ind , so ist der prinzipielle Gegensatz zwischenihnen und Gottfrieds Reimpaarvers in der Hauptsache beseitigt.

Vergleichen wir nun also speziell Tris tan ,v . 1 -44. Sievers

setzt fiir diese Verse p . 1 5,zweite Halfte) “

eineetwas gekiinstelte Abart des alten [dipodischen ] Verses eu

,

jedenfalls also doch Dipodien ,wozu auch seine Notierungen

p . 13 stimmen . Es kann aber kaum ein Zweifel sein ,dass

wir in V . 2,4,1 6

,24

,29

,42 ganz solche rhythmischen Mono

podien vor uns haben,wie z. B . in v . 245 -46. Es zeigt sich

nun,dass gerade diese Verse aus den Kontrastierungen ,

die

hier allemal eine ganze Strophe durchlaufen ,zwar n icht dem

Wortmaterial,wohl aber dem Sinne nach herausfallen : in

der ersten Strophe bes teht ein innerer Gegensatz schlechterdings nur zwis chen v . 1 und v . 3, wahrend v . 2 und v . 4

nur n'

abere Zusetze zu gewissen Wortern in jenen bringen ,

die fiir den Satz wohl, n icht aber fiir die Pointe notig sind ;v . 1 6 gibt eine zwar gut passende, aber keineswegs mehrnotwendige Einschrankung zum vorhergehenden Verse, undwiederum ohne jeden inneren Gegensatz ; ahnl ich liesse sichdie mangelnde Dipodisierung der iibrigen genannten Verseerklaren . Wir haben also nicht nur Dipodi en in GottfriedsReimpaarversen gefunden ,

sondern finden nun auch Monopodien unter seinen Vierzeilern ! Daraus geht hervor : ers tlich

,Gottf ried schreibt podisch ,

oder gar monopodisch , wo

er einfach erzahlt oder beil'

aufig erklart ; er wird dagegensofort di podisch

, wo er begrifi‘iich zu kontras tieren , zu poin

tieren hat.

S challanalytlsehes Verhiiltm'

s van Gottfrieds Vierzeilern 5 1 1

Sievers fiih rt nun noch mehr Unterschiede zwischen dem

Vierzeilervers und den Reimpaarvers an : zunachst halt er

das Tempo bei jenen fiir schneller als im Erzahlervers . SeineAusfiihrungen dazu p . 1 6 sind zwar im Prinzip sicher richtig,aber nur , insoweit nicht etwas Drittes noch sttirend einwirkt,und das schein t mir in Gottfrieds Vierzeilern das deutlichausgepragte deiktische Element in der Tat zu tun , so dass

die beiden resp . Temp i hier zusammenfallen diirften . Ausser

dem will mir hier das Argument nicht einleuchten , in den

Senkungen s tanden “nur sprachlich ganz unbetonte Silben ”

(a. a. o. p . wie sollten dann die“schwebenden Beto

nungen”in V . 1 7 21 (zweimal ) , 24 ( 25

,33

,37

,40

,41 ver

standen werden wo doch ein schnelleres Tempo un fehlbarzu

“ versetzten Betonungen ”und damit zu V iilliger Ruinie

rung der Versmelodie fiihren muss te. Mir will darum fastscheinen

,Sievers habe bei seinen Ausfiihrungen p . 1 6 weniger

an Gottfried als etwa an den streng und urspriinglich di

podischen Wolf ram von Eschenbach gedacht,fiir den alles

dort Gesagte genau stimmen wurde.

Sehen wir uns nun namlich die Gottfriedischen Dipodien

noch einmal n'

aher an . Sievers sagt selbst, worauf schonhingewiesen wurde (a. a. o. p . 1 5

,Mitte) , in Gottfrieds Vier

zeilern,die

“schon eine etwas gekiinstelte Abart des alten

Verses darstellen ”, trete die Verbindung zweier F iisse zu

einer hiihern Einheit , eben der Dipodie, “n icht so klar hervor

wie anderwarts”; und mit Recht . Das naml ich ist der ein

schneidende Unterschied zwischen diesen Dipodien und z. B .

denen bei Wolfram : die Gottfriedischen Dipodien s ind wederin den Reimpaaren noch hier als

”

ein Residuum oder eineWiederaufnahme alterer Technik aufzufassen

, j a sie sindnicht einmal aus einem primaren rhythmischen Erlebnis ent

standen zu denken . Vielmehr ist, in den Vierzeilern wie

sonst, Gottfrieds Erlebnis virtuell nur podi sch , und erst seineSpielerei mit Worten und Begriffen

,die hier in den meisten

Versen j e zwei Tonsilben stark nachdrucklich herauspresst,verursacht den Ans chein eines Dipodi sierens . Das aber ist

keine Frage, dass dabei das gedankliche E lement im Dichtereher vorhanden war als die Rhythmisierung davon , dass der

5 1 2 N ordmeyer

dipodische Rhythmus hier also als etwas Sekundares und daher“Gekiinsteltes zu fassen ist. Manmag einwenden ,

auch in den

erz'

ahlenden Partien musse doch Gottfried wis sen was er schreiben wolle

,ehe er wirklich schreibe ; gewiss , er kennt seinen Stofi,

aber hier n icht nach Begriffen geordnet , sondern nach Phanta

sie-Vors tellungen,und wahrend s ich beim I'

Jberwiegen des Be

grifflichen unabweislich das begriffliche Element den Rhyth

mus unterwirft,schieben sich hier die andrangenden sprach

lichen Aquivalente der Phan tas ievorstellungen ganz simultanin das rhythmisch-melodische Schema des Schaffenden ein ,

wobei natiirlich der Dichter bei mehreren sich darbietendenund dem Sinne nach gleich brauchbaren Worten das jenige

ausw'

ahlen wird,das s ich seiner Rhythmik und Melodik am

besten einfugt (vgl . Sievers , a.e .o . p . 1 6,zweite Halfte) . Das

Erlebnis als solches ist aber auch bei Gottfried virtuell einheitlich .

Damit ware ein Sachverhalt fes tgestellt , der sich von dem

in Schillers Glocke” prinzipiell doch erheblich unterscheidet ,und es ist ers ichtlich , dass man auch nur illustrando jenen

Vergleich lieber n icht wiederholen sollte,denn er ist geeignet ,

unsre Vorstellungen vom innern S chafien unserer mittelelterlichen Dichter zu verwirren . Dazu sei nun dieses bemerkt, wodurch die ganze Untersuchun g , bei mir begreif

licherweise n ichts so fern gelegen als eine Art Polemik gegen

meinen verehrten L ehrer, vielleicht erst einigen Wert erhalt .

Sievers hat von vornherein seine epochemachenden Ent

deckungen als Hilfsmittel zur philologischen Kritik verwandt .Es fragt sich

,ob ein Gelehrter, dessen spezielles Arbeits

gebiet die moderne L iteratur w'

are,so leicht die gleiche kiihne

Folgerung gezogen hatte. Bei manchen Dichtern auch unsrer

Zeit hort man zwar die Autors chaft oft uns chwer heraus ,z B . bei Heines Vierzeilern . Derselbe Heine aber hat die

N ordseebilder” geschrieben— in freien Rhythmen . Auf

die unendliche Mann igfaltigkeit Goethes in gedachter Beziehung braucht man nur hinzuweisen . Es wird nun be

hauptet, fii r das Mittelalter, d . h . das deutsche Mittelalter,lage die Sache anders . Was berechtigt uns zu solcher An

nahme ? Sievers (a. a. 0 . pp . 1 7 , 71 , 96 und 97 ) konsta


1 4 Green

THE ANALYTIC AGENT IN GERMAN IC

1 . In the morphological class ification of languages,as dis

tinct from their geneological aspect, the concept of An alysis

has with the lapse of time undergone a thoroughgoing modification . From being regarded as a highly regrettable organic

degeneration,this gradual discarding of the older infiectional

accretions in favor of s ingle word-forms qualified by a seriesof prepositions and auxiliaries

,is now considered by every

advan ced philologist to have been a decided progres s in

language. This much must however even now be emphasized

the analytic process is not to be thought of as a providentialblessing in disguise. That quality of free and easy combi

nation of short linguistic units which sets modern English ,for instance

,at a radical variance with the frequently un

wieldy vocables of the classical tongues , would never have

evolved from the older synthetic prototypes , had not time

and place both been propitious and necessary for such alte

ration . Call Analysis an‘economy of expression ’

or a

‘law of specialization ,

’ 1 it is simply a species of linguisticstruggle for existence, a natural tendency to secure greater

ease and precis ion in discourse and documen t .

2 . A single glance at the declensional apparatus of Old

English will bring home the ineffectiveness of a system where

there is not only an absence of that rigid application of a

given suffix to a given idea which characterizes Latin in the

large,but even the possibility exists of a defin ite case

function being express ed at the same moment by various

conflicting devices . In Latin itself declension by the modi

fication of final syllables proved in time equally wanting,and this not alone for the commonly assigned grounds of

phonetic corruption and analogic instin ct , but rather because

the available case-forms were too few in number to express

all the relations natural to the human mind,—a feat , it will

be recalled , which even Indo-Iranian with eight cases failedof performing . F or the resulting incongruities Language

offered that spontaneous tendency toward its combined ideal

of least resistance and greatest efiiciency , which we call ,Anal1 Bré al, E s sai de S émantique, Chap . I.

The Analytic Agent in Germanic 5 1 5

ysis . More specifically , in the field of noun-accidence prepositions were resorted to in place of the confused case-terminations , and self-suflicient constants substituted for dependentvariables .

3. Nor is there need to conjure up a mental picture of

a mad scurry on the part of devoted lingu ists , at the very

end of their synthetic resources,to discover new devices that

might replace case-forms destroyed through popular igno

rance. The history of Latin demonstrates that analysis is possible at the very period a language is enjoying the Golden Ageof its literature and that

,when the terminations are finally

set aside altogether, it is for the reas on that they had longoutgrown their serviceability. So that if in expressions likead Ra

’

mam and de'

Ro’

mc'

i,GREGORY OE TOURS felt the

full force resident in the prepos itions , it is no wonder that

he did not keep the endings distinct , ‘

nor that he often joinedcum to the accusative and per to the ablative.

2 In the Ger

manic di alects such a natural reduction of the original caseforms

,followed at first by the customary amalgamation of

case-functions , and then by the employment of prepositions ,must have occurred sometime during the period antedatingtheir literatures , for in the latter the predominant mode of

denoting syntactic relations is the analytic . At the s ide of

modal and material instrumentals , for example, which persistlongest in use

, we find in the earliest documents prepos itional

locutions of all kinds d isplacing synthetic equivalents . The

preposition thus becomes a pivotal point in the further de

velopment of these dialects .

4. The Agent , i . e. the person functioning as the logical

subject of passive express ions , seems to have been one of the

first categories in Germanic to require the elucidative services

of prepositions . Altogether there are but spare remnan tsin WULFILA , the BEOWULF and the EDDIC poems of

that prepositionless form of agency which,judging by the

testimony of related Indo-European languages,must have

been characteris tic of the older stages of the German ic dia

lects . But even these remnants furni sh a sufficient and con

2 Bonnet. L e L atin de Gregoire deQTours

,Paris , 1 890, p. 5 21 ff.

5 1 6 Green

elus ive evidence. A few examples are given here : GOTHIC—Mt. 6

,1 6

,et

’

gasaihvat'

ndau mannam fastandans Swa g cavéicw

mic; o’

zvepcbm cgvncrs éoweg ;Rom. bigitanawar]? mis anabusns

nal ebpéen um 7) éw élvq ; Mk. 10,1 2 j ah lingada anharamma

m l 7 041 7205 ] 6270q ANGLO-SAXON,with suitable emenda

tions offered or adopted,—BEOW. l . 1 2 locim es fera wws

cafter cenned geong in geardum,1068 F innes eaferum haeletS

Healf-Dena feallan seolde, 29 5 7 Wwms (Eht boden Swé ona

lé odum, segn Higeldce; CZEDMON ,Gen . 1 765 fromeynne

folde weortSetS pine gefylled; Set. 5 5 8 pd wms on eortiaxn é ee

drihten folgad folcum; Dan . 92 metode geeorene, 1 5 0 se wms

drihtne gecoren . OLD NORSE—EDDA,Vm. 25

,2 vas

N grm'

berm, EH . 1 1 8,6 17mi vas me

’

r litt stelht

etit, Ghv . 10

,2 vash brlmr verum vegin at hdsi, Em. 7

,2

ofner vglundum, and numerous examples in the prose and

poetic literature before the preposition af finally obtained

full sway. F or OLD HIGH GERMAN,besides OTF R . 1 ,

5,23 thfi. scalt hewn einem fatere gibomh a/n

eban éwigcm, only few parallels can be drawn upon with any

degree of confidence,cf . §37 ff.

5 . These and s imilar instances, the character of whos e

datival forms had not before been deciphered with satisfaction—the general opinion held of them being that they all were,in and for themselves , a mere subtype of the dative of personal

interest , despite the fact that there were found certain well-defined examples which even on the closest scrutiny refused to re

veal a connotation of‘commodi vel incommedfi ’

h the writer collected and discussed els ewhere.

3 As will be seen by reference

to the pages cited, an attempt was made there to defin e and

delimit the nature of this hitherto neglected functional type

of the German ic dative and to locate its provenience on the

bas is of such cognate languages as Indo-Iranian ,Balto-Slavic ,

Latin and Greek ; accordingly a di stinction was drawn in

theory and practice between the real dative of agency that

could reasonably be traced back to a former dative of in terestand what with due regard to the syn cretistic peculiarities of

8 The Dative of Agency. A chapter of Indo-Europeafn eas e-syntax .

Columbia diss . 1 91 3, pp. 81 -1 13.


5 1 8 Green

the prepositionless locutions with the older or synthetic stagesof a language, age is merely a relative term . Thus already in

AVESTAN,we find an auctorial prepos ition like hac

'

a,which

takes the ablative, originally for the denotation of spatialorigin ,

acting to all intents like Latin ab, as V . 1 9,6 baraOrydt

haéa edvi§i‘a matre vocatus sum ’

.

5 LATIN ab 0. ablative

goes back to the earliest times . LITHUAN IAN mi ‘ from ’

with genitive,as in mo

’

tt’

na m7. kt‘

ldihio mylflmd ‘

the mother be

loved of her child ’

is again of modern date and may even be a

German ism,

‘von

’

,imported by bilingual Germans .

6 The cor

responding Greek prepos ition, 0. gen . is Homeric and even

varies With 6x 6 0. dat. as 11 490 Harpéx h p mewéuevog,—a

dative which has locatival antecedents . Ou the other hand,modern English

,with a highly analytic character

,has not yet

lost all the earmarks of synthesis,cf. the co-existence of the

inflected gen itive with the of-phrase of possession .

8 . The genuine Indo-European dative noun -case does not

seem to have originally been connected with any preposition .

The so-called ‘ dative ’ case-forms therefore in German ic whi chwe find combined with them must be referred to the locatival ,instrumental or ablatival constituents of said ‘ dative ’

,—what

is functionally so termed being nothing but an ins trumental inthe plural7 and partly locative, partly instrumental in the sin

gular. 8 (The only Germanic prepositions to be connected

with the real dative force are Pregermanic Got.

néhv [a] , Ags . neah,OHG. ndh, and

* to, the latter oi. whichmus t have attained its directive force in the dialects themselvesand thus become attached to the dative as the natural case

of reference. ) The following is the list of the authorship

prepositions considered in this light , Gothic , Anglo-Saxon ,

Old N orse,Old High German and Old Saxon being drawn

upon for illustration :

(a) PREPOSITION S OF REST— * bi,

”“at

,

a"i n ;

“Reichelt, Awes tis ches E lementarbuch, p. 276 .

”Kurschat, Gram/m. d . lit. Sprache, p. 393.

7 S treitberg, U rger. Grannm. p. 232 .

”Dieter, q t and F ormen lehre, p . 5 37 .

(2 ) accompan iment a"9111/51;

(3) direction—flmrh,t to.

9 . A schematic survey of the uses of these particles bringsout the fact that GOTHIC employs the prepositions fram,

af, us and bairh, ANGLO-SAXON and ENGLISH purh, imm,

of, be, (at, with and to,OLD NORSE ,

regularly af, HIGH

GERMAN foam) , (OS . duruh and even mit. Of

these dialects , Anglo-Saxon and English lend themselves bestto the study of auctorial relations

,for the reason that , while

in Ags ., as we have seen ,

we are s till fortunate to find purely

inflectional means used for our purpose,the later course of

the language is exceptionally rich and Varied in the choiceof suitable prepos itions an tedating the modern by . The idea

of agency itself, as relating to persons , is rare in BEOWULF ;passive expressions are frequent enough , but the terseness

of the poetic style seems easily able to dispens e wi th suchdefining elements as agen cy ofiers . One important circumstance

,however, must be noted

,Viz . that none of the author

ship examples found are of'

the variety of prepositional lo

cutions ; it is only after CZEDMON ,notably beginn ing with

CYNEWULF ,that the tendency is entirely toward the anal

ytical. So in'

Elene, a typical poem , all personal agency isexpressed by purh c . ace , which in CZEDMON is not yet used

in such a sense. Example,E l. 775 , s é -te on ro

’

cle wees ond burh

Marian in middangeard deenned weerd in cildes hc’

id, -whichshould illuminate Beow. 1 2

,or E l. 105 8 purh gastes gife

gecorenne, which stands in a similar relation to the dativeinstrumental in CZEDMON ’

S Dan . 92,of . §4. This use of

purh, certainly a derivative of its fun ction of denoting theintermediate person—the sole one to-day

— is at this time distinct as yet from the latter, and expresses the person im

mediately operative, in the same mann er as by to-day 1ntro

duces the logical bearer of the pass ive action .

10. The pers istent force of this preposition carries it inthis function well up to Old English . It is a fascinating butalso a very intangible pursuit to observe how later Anglo

Saxon—sometimes termed Half-Saxon or Old English—and

5 20 Green

Middle English present simultaneously several prepositionsof radically di fferent bas ic connotation to render this one ideaof agency . Thus , although as late as Town M. 282 we fin d

this ded-e thrughe God is done, the competition of fram datesback to much earlier times . In BEOWULF

,to be sure

,frame

has only a local sign ification ,as l . 1 10mancynne fram. Socin

’s

emendative insertion of fmm in l. 1068 F innes eaferum haeleh

Healf-Dena fed llan seolde, whilst of interes t in that the editor

felt the need of some more forceful express ion,is out of

ques tion not only becaus e the bare dative-instrumental already

denotes the desired logical subject, but because it would add

to BEOWULF the sole fram in the sense of the personal

agent, when di ligent search fails to di scover it in CZEDMON

and but rarely in CYNEWULF . Thus I cannot consider as

satisfactory the only adducible examples in the latter ’s Elene,

for l . 701 is simple means and 1 141 purely locative,1 90 swa

"

fmm Si luestre lc’

é rde wceron , auctorial in intent , permits thelocative force to be still dis tinctly felt, ci . German ‘

Von

seiten ’. There are altogether six other instances in Ags .

poetry, to wit CYNEWULF’

s Grist 1 61 7 scyle from his

S cyppende dscyred weorhan ; Soul and Body 46 ie wms gi st

on be“ from gode s ended, is really locatival ; BOET. Metre

20,245 swa him lgfed wces from hi m celmihtigan ; Psalms

67,23 from Mm pine gangas wci ron gesewene; ibid . 1 13

,23

wesah ge’ fram gode geblé tsade; Pater N oster, 3, 87 be fram

wife and fram were wurden dcenned 9—which I would, again ,

recommend as an aid to the interpretation of Beow. l . 1 2

hi m and 135 7 him.

1 1 . F ram,in turn ,

receives already in Old English a com

petitor in of. In ZELF RED, to be sure

,fram is yet the

rule, as Be. 3,14 he wces fram eallum monnum lufad, 477 , 31

Albanus is com geeiged fram minum yldrimi,

1 0 but of, even

as exception,is quite often in evidence, so that there is laid

9 Cf. pp. 2 and 9 1 , Wullen, Der synt. Gebra/uch der Prapositionen

fram, under, ofer, Imrh in d . age. Poesie. I. fram,under. Diss . Kiel,

1 908 .

1 ° Cf. Harstrick, Untersuchungen uber (tie Prap. bei A lfred .

°Diss .

Kiel, 1 890, p. 1 3.


22 Green

226 I wolde not of him corretted be, MAUN . 5 she was buryed

of the aungels .

1 3. By, the preposition that gained the final upper hand,is rarely found in ME ; on the other hand, in MnE . be seems

to be the regularly employed particle,whilst of appears but

infrequently. In the Gov. Myst. we find both ‘his sowle of

develis is al to-torn ’and

‘alle thyng x al be wrowth be me ’

;

MAUNDEV . 1 5‘ that cytee was destroyed by hem of Grece ’

;

CHAUCER,VI. 31 0

‘by the, lady, y-maked is the pes bitwix

angelis and man ’. The conquest of by over of and the ever

recurrent purh is well known . What is not so generally dis

seminated,however

,is that by had two other competitors

arrayed against it, namely ME . wi th and ME . to. A continu

ant of the OE . mid after the latter merged into witS—wellbefore CHAUCER , as there is no s ingle ins tance of mid in

his works—with assumes the force of agency in Middle English

,as CHAUCER,

II,335 and whan the bed was with the

prest i-blessid, 1 84 that every wight was with the lioun frete,WYCLIFFE ,

Lk. 7,24 reed wawid with the wynd , Ags . mid

winde. As for to, of. CHAUCER II. 71 to whom bothe heven

and erthe is seene, IV . 262 and his comyh ge unwiste is tevery

( = to every ) wight, SHAKSPERE ,I am cabin

’a, cribbed,

confin"d, bound in to saucy doubts and fears . The gradual

rise of by over all these variants and the present restrictionof of to instances where the verb denotes a perception or

knowledge rather than actual activity—s o that to-day Shaksperean ‘

unwhipped of justice ’As . II. 1

,5 0 or

‘he is received

of the most pious Edward ’

,H . 4

,3,being notions of external

influence upon the person afiected, are as impossible as Froissart ’

s‘cil furent encore rencontre

’

de chiaus de Laon’is in

modern French—belong to the domain of more recent syntax .

1 4. None of the other German ic dialects present a line of

chronological development s imi lar to that we have given in

our hasty sketch of ENGLISH . N either GOTHIC nor OLD

HIGH GERMAN evidence any regular progress ive tendency

in this regard. NORSE has but one auctorial preposition ,

af. This word is not yet found in the Eddic poems in the

fun ction of a logical subject of passive verbs . The two .ex

amples sometimes cited are unreliable : Gpr . II. 34, 2 bann

The Analytic Agent in Germanic 5 23

mi mic hyosa af honungum oh 170’

af mbj um naubug hafa can

be with ease interpreted in the light of the original localsignification of the prepos ition

,

‘ though coerced on the part

of my relatives , ’or even causally, ‘

him will I, even though

constrained, choose among kings and have because of my

relatives ’

; similarly mus t be construed Hdl. 43, 3, where welikewise have af combined with an adjective, varbr Loptr

hvipogr af keno illre‘ because of the woman ’

,somewhat like

MHG. si wart swanger bi ir bruocler , Greg . 229 . This completeabsence of af with passives in the early s tage of Norse litera

ture represented by the Edda1 4 will rule out, for instance, theRask-Copenhagen cd.

-Munch-Ettmiiller interpretation of the

God. Reg . vers ion of Gbr . II. 4,4 Qlbvgru sgbuldyr sveita stok

hin oh of b ani]? vasi mi d veggh dum as af veggh dum, or Bugge’s

exchange of af for at in L s . 34 gisls um semlr at gobom. The

unaided dative-instrumental (or the dat. commodi> clat. auc

toiis ) alone expresses agency in the Eddic poems . In the

subsequen t literary monuments however af is the regular device thus employed, perhaps partly due to Latin influence

filtering down to popular us age through the medium of the

learned style ;1 5

e. g . Hem. 40,1 2 her doemash opt go

’

bir afillum

,enn i ohm lififyridoemash dealt illir af go

’

bum,E hr .

5 42,35 b arb mj gh baizt af shyndingu, Mariusaga, 904, 1 1

hann var pangat faerdr af~tveim ungum monh am. It is in

order now to explain some of the more particular featuresof the preceding survey, especially the semantic changes

whereby the various prepositions came to acquire their fun ctionof agency.

1 5 . Too much stress cannot be laid on the fact the personalagen t is merely a derivative oi

'

some other functional typehaving a basic connotation essentially cognate with its own .

F or the syn thetic expression of this agent Delbruck has inti1 ‘ Gebhardt, too, in his Beitrage zur Bedeu tumgs lehre der altwest

nordis chen Prc’

ipositionen, D is s . L eipzig, 1 896, fails to produce any

good example . Surely B ym. 38, 5 hver af hrai mbiza ham» lawn wm

fekk, p. 84, cannot seriously be offered as an instance of personalagency.

” F alk 0g Thorp , Dansk-N orskens Syntax , p. 1 70.

” Syntaktisehe F ors chungen, V . 1 35 , and Vergleichende Syntax , I. 268.

5 24 Green

mated in the cas e of the Sanskrit hafrtar ,1 6 that it was from

the instrumental of means with an active verb that the in

strumental of agen cy with the passive had risen i . e. that to

a great extent the personal agent owes its proven ience to the

material ins trument with which a deed is accomplished . The

distinction,I imagine

,would be somewhat that between living

beings and inanimate objects,s ince persons as well as objects ,

lifeless or personified, may be thought of as instruments of

action,of . SAN SKRIT agné j ayati tyaya ahah am

‘he attains

through thee,Agn i

,all good .

1 7 That this is quite as logicallypermissible in the pass ive as in the active cons truction , stands

to reason ; so that an example like ‘he is praised by the s ingers ’

is but a natural step from ‘he is praised with , by words ’

.

1 6. That this step is not the only one separating the twoextremes must also be clearly understood . The idea of causality

is so very nearly bound up with that of mere instrumentalitythat very often no firm division is poss ible between them :

a spiritual something,an event

,a circumstance

,an abs traction

can also serve as the means . In GOTHIC daupau afdaup

j aidau, Mk. 7,10

,or HOMERIC cpspbpxqv bl oolg o

’

we’

uozcw,cp 5 24,

or SLAVIC tristi ve'

tromil dvié ema Lk. 7,24

,m

’

zhaaog imb

o'

we'

uou cakeuéuevog, we can no more speak of material instru

ment ; they are instances of a dematerialized, personified in

strument of action ,the neares t step to the pers onal agent

itself . Other examples may be given ,GOTHIC— gasiglidai

waurbu]? ahmin gahaitis u?) mebaat z tfig éwayyskiag Eph . 1,1 3

ANGLO-SAXON—Beow. 31 1 7 ponne strcEla storm strengum

gebé ded, (101 8 Heorot innan wees freondum afyllecl ) ; OLD

NORSE—dyrhalfr dgggo s lungenn , EH . 1 1 . 37 3,i gartSpanns

skripih n vas innan ormum ‘

perr eptatum anguibus’

,Ahv . 34

,2 .

A series of gradations might then thus be erected .

(a) material means , pure and simple as let us say , LATIN‘myrto vinetas et ipse caput;

’

(b ) personal instrument,intermediary

,as

‘non per me

name hoe locatum’

(c ) personified means,often of causal tenor, as (of Troy )

‘tardaque nocturno tela reteata dolo

’

;

“ Brugmann, Grundris s’ II, 5 26.


5 26 Green

as I have elsewhere remarked,

“20entirely premature at the

same time we find already in Old English (a) be used to

designate material and advanced means,Mt. 4

,4 h e leofatS se

man be hlafum dnum,Lk. 6

,44 cele treow ys be his weestme

oncnawen, so Mt. 7 , 20; then ZELF RED,B0. 29 hangatS nacod

sweard ofer 1yam hlafde be smalan pri de, also 0. P . 1 68, 1 5 ; Bl.

Hom. 101,5 gescelig bitsmoeg hine sylfne be paire bysene lw

’

ren,

2 1

1 61,5 be pissum (weoreum)we witan magan,

209,35 be heora

handum gebundene, 0od. a h . 1 1 8,23 bi hwon scealt bu

lifgan, Lag. 105 01 he doe]? be wel to writen ba bi warden and

bi writeri ; (b ) despite Einenkel, op . cit. p. 1 31,that be is

not found before CHAUCER denoting the personal means ,

as in V . 343 and by the gayler gotten hath a barge, there are

ZELF RIO II. 1 70,142 2 sum eawfcest man sende 5 am halgan

were twegen butrucas mid wine to lace be anum cnapan,

Sax . Chron . E 67 5 has writ seonde seo papa Agatha

bi Wilfred to Engla lande, 1095 be him sende, 1 1 28

ealle be him senden to Ierusalem,WULFSTAN , Horn.

292,14 ha sende se celmihtiga god an ceremlgewrit

be anum halgan engle.

2 3 These examples vouch for the

early authenticity of the formula ‘sendan be

’

; (c ) causality ,in ZELF RED

, Be. 490,25 hi be idlum bingum weoruldgestreo

'n

sece, JELF RIC,II. 226

,5 hwile eower treat me be synne?

Bl. Hem. 202,2 hi wiston be laws engles scegenum

‘by the

angel ’s promises ’

. These three classes naturally connectthems elves with the bas ic idea of close cc-existence by means

of the link ‘

according to ’

,as in Sax . Chron . 634 se Birinus

com hider be Honorius wordum, CE DMON , Gen . fe'rde to”l9am lande be his hldfordes heese, ZELF RED ,

C . P . 240,5 be

5 am ryhtlice be Judeum wees gecweben burh Bone witgan ;

(d ) there is no lack of examples with verbs of begetting, cf. §1 7 ,which border on personal agency, as CZEDMON , Gen . 2326 1m

soealt sunu agan, bearn be bryde binre, JELF RED,Or . 5 6

,25

bi eallum heora wifum bearna striendon . (d ) Finally we have20Dative of Agency, p. 98 .

21 F‘

lamme, Syntax der B lickling Homilies, Diss . Bonn, 1 885 , p. 60.

” Cf. Gottweiss, Die Syntax der Prc’

ip. wt, be ymb in den E lfric

Homilien,Anglia, 28, 35 3.

” Cf. Bedtker, Critieal Contributions , p. 37.


sufficient, though not ample, evidence of the personal agent

with passive verbs , CJEDMON , Gen . 5 98 poet wurde Pegn

swamonig forloedd be 19am lygemlm,

2 4 ZELF RED,Be. 637

,3

be hisses B .

’ lifes stealle foreweardum we sculan feawum

werdum gemynegan, 5 a be be him gedo’

ne wceron,

2 5 both Mil

ler ’s translation ‘what befell him ’

and Badtker’s2“ ‘with

regard to ’ being somewhat gratuitous ; JELF RIO, I. 5 1 8,31

beet is gedén be Godes fadimge, 487 , 1 7 be 5 am Joe is gecweden,Bl. Horn . 1 63

,27 poet laces bearnes weorhe ongyten

waare be Pysen eallum obrum mannum‘

understood by all theseother men

’

,although ‘measured by ,

according to,all these

men ’ 2 7 is not impossible.

1 9 . It will be seen that to assert that the construction

was altogether due to borrowing from Old French,is out

of question . Anglo-Saxon had a latent capacity for the use

of be as author ’s prepos ition and even attests an actual de

velopment of it. If it is a Gallicism,it is such not in the

sense that the phrase in question was so alien to the spiritof Ags . that we do not expect to see it where we find it, but

rather that a homogeneous French locution might analogicallyhave influenced the larger extension of an already existentand rapidly spreading native construction ,

sufficient instan cesof which are lacking either because of the defectiveness or

because of the insufficiency of the literary material transmittedto us .

2 8 The expression is natural enough to have Sprung up ,

with a proper foundation ,simultaneously in both languages .

On the other hand, M'

atzner’s statement

2 9 that the difiusion

of by as an aid to authorship is to be as cribed to the pro

gressive supersess ion of the other prepositions—burh, fram, of24 Cf. Dusenschon, Die P rzip. cafter, cet and be in der ae. Poesie, Diss .

Kiel, 1 907 .

2“Wiilfing, II. 338 :‘paucis quae sunt gesta memoremus’

.

26 Op. cit. p. 37.

2" Cf. B¢ dtker, loo. cit.

28 Cf. Jesperson, in Eng. S tudien,34, 1 63

‘furs Altenglische kommt

noch in betracht, dass die art der uberlieferten texte uns zu der an

nehme drangt, dass eine ganze menge von den im taglichen leben

gewiihnlichsten redewendungen und syntaktischen verbindungen nichtzu uns gekommen ist.

’

2" English Grammar, II, 398 .

5 28 Green

-can be understood much better in the light of acceleration bya s imi lar French model .20. A sui table support for the evolution of be may be

found in another preposition of rest, (2 )

*at

,—GOT. and

ON . at,AGS . cet, OHB . az; LATIN ad . Its fundamental

meaning of propinquity, in a less comprehensive degree thanthat of be, is seen in the following

,GOTHIC—se agiei at

waurtim bagme ligi]? 7) ri:p thv 53l 1GN Sévbpwv miral,Lk. 3

,9 ; AGS .

—arcd cet hire heafdan scet se eadiga Petrus,30

Bl. H . 1 45,26 ; OLD NORSE— tveir at hgfpom, Sg . 66

,3 ;

OHG.

— sitai azs zesui‘

m halp miin . From this local relationwe have in ANGLO-SAXON and in GOTHIC *

at in the

sense of the personal agent . Cons ider, 1 Thess . 4,9 unte

silbaris j us at guda uslaisidai sij ulp Osoblbamol é cre,

“ 1 Tim.

6,5 atbaimei gatarm}? ist surij a m l o

’

mecrspnuévwv 1 71g o’

zMOeiagLk. 10

,7 drigghandans 190 at im

,sc . gibanona wivovrsg t o

‘

cm pabtdiv

,the Sheireins vers ion of Jh . 6

,1 3 batei aflifnoda at

paim <matj andam> 1 01g Bsfipwx écw. ANGLO-SAXON—E l

fric, I, 5 0, 2 witodlice S tephah us wees to d/iacorie gehadod

cet heare apostola hari dum,

32 II,480

,1 9 setSe wms a

'

zr gebletsod

aet bees apostoles handum,II

,48

,2 he forgeaf beet folluht

Johanne, and wees eft gefullod cet Johanne,33 Orrm. 10663

by cumesst her attme to wurrhenn fullhtned, 1065 4 fullhtnecld

beon att Sarmt Johannes hande; so also 1 8232 att teggre

maggstre.

21 . The transition from the notion of res t seems to have

been through the verbs of asking, ex pecting , receiving ,taking,

hearing, finding et sim. ,

34 in that the place ‘where ’

one asks

etc. is emphas ized instead of the customary ‘wherefrom ’

,

s imilarly to German ‘ ich kaufe etwas bei ihm ’or

‘von ihm ’

,

French ‘ boire dans un verre ’

,English ‘

to receive at the

80 Curious is the tendency of of to take over this function of cet,

Saw. Chron . E 1 193 he wa s borenn of q ein .

81 Cf. §36 for the expres sion of this idea by means of an auctorialadnominal genitive in Jh. 6 , 45 .

82Wiil fing, I I . 323.

33 Cf. Belden, The prepositions ih ,on, to, fore, and wt in A gs . prose,

Diss . Baltimore, 1 897, p. 76 Gottwe iss, in Anglia, 26 , 326 .

84'Cf. Winkler, Germanis che Kasus syn'

tace,Berlin, 1 896, p. 181 , and

Wiilfing, I I . 31 8 .


5 30 Green

j ainar hairda sweine managaize haldanaize in pamma fai rgunj a év 1 65 695 1, Lk. 8

,32 ; AGS . rte hafn is in heafde hwite

loccas, Rid. 41,98 . There is not even an idea of actual lo

cation in bigitaidau in imma,Philp . 3

,9 or gashapanai i/n

X ristau Iesu, Eph . 2,10. On the other hand, the notion of

means appears in AGS . bu reces hie in gerde iserre, Vesp .

Ps . (825 ) 2, 9 ; GEG. geseret habest da mir min herza in

einemo diner eigen, Will. 4, 9 ; ON . i dreyra drifenn'

, Grm.

5 2,4 ; GOT. in hammei gasiglidai sij ah, Eph . 4

,30. Cons ider

these four vers ions ofMh. 1,8 : GOT. ih daupj a izwis in watin ,

ih is daupei]? izwis in ahmin weihamma, CORPUS GOSP .

on wwtere on Halgum Gaste,WYCLIFFE

, in water

in the Holy Goost, TYNDALE ,with water with

the Holy Goost.

24. The‘ place where ’ may also be regarded in the light

of mediative instrumentality Mt. 9,34 in fauramaplj a un

hulpono usdreibij? unhulpons av éipxovu 1 63V Bazuovimv, Tyn

dale,‘

by the power of the chefe devyll ’. The Scandinavian

languages would us e ‘Ved

’ here. OHGuoba ih in gotes fingare

uuirphu diuuala T. 62,5,thaz uuurcli arougit gates uuerc in

imo,1 32 . Causality is expressed in 2 Car . 9

,13 mihilj andans

gap in ainfalpein gamairidupais émkémc t ip; x owwlag, 10, 1 5

hvopandans in framapj aim orbaidim év o'mtot

-

piozg x c'

mozg. Per

sonal agency, too ,is found mos t frequently in GOTHIC.

An OHG. instan ce like T. 5 9 got is giberehtot in imo, and‘ personal ’ references to single books of the Tes taments etc.

as Mk. 1,2 swe gameli]? ist in Esa

’

iin praufetau év

Corpus, be'

e Isaiam,butWyclifie, in Ysaie,—which are perhaps

felt s tronger than a mere ON . svasem segir i Vglsungahmbu

irmi fornu, EH 1 1 . 1 2 pr . 10,—are of mere collateral interest ;

but there is a decided agency in examples like Gal.

garaihtai domj aindau in X ristau Bmazwefivai év Xpm éb, Pur

vey ,‘

j ustified in Cris t ’

,1 Cor . 7 , 4 weihada ist gens so un

galaubj andei in abin, j ah gaweihaids ist aba sa ungalauj ands

in qenai iq'

yiact ac 6 o’

zvhp iv 1 5 Tommi, x al

informal nyew) év a vi, Purvey,‘for the vnfeith

ful hosebonde is halewid bi the feithful wom an,and the

vnfeithful womman is halewid bi the feithful hosebonde’


Eph . 1,13 in rammei galaubj anda/ns gasiglidai waurlau]? év

x a‘

c mct aécavt eg éccppayiceme,Purvey , ‘

in Whom (Christ )ye bileuynge ben merkid With the Booli Goost.

’ Just howmuch the influence of the Greek prototype may have contributed to this meaning of the Gothic prepos ition ,

or that of

the Itala to the Anglo-Saxon ,is an open question . It is

important , however, to see that often Purvey feels impelled

to render Latin in by bi .25 . Of the PREPOSITION S OF MOTION ,

those demot

ing separation all agree in that transfer of thought Whichmakes the point of origin or separation whence the actionproceeds , at the same time the cause of the departure or act ;

it is needless to say that this cause, When a person , becomes

the actual agent. L et us see this process in detail . (1 ) * Fram

4 101111 10 fram,

AGS . imm, from, ON . ire, one . fram;SKT. paramam—Will be found connected in the German ic

dialects'

With a dative of ablatival function .

36 Its basic mean

ing is‘

ahead ’

,

‘forward ’

,1. e. not merely separation ,

but

separation from a distant object in its relation to the subject .This representation of

‘eoming

' from a place ’ yields to that

of causality as soon as the place s tands no more for the origin

of the action but becomes identical With the causer and doerthereof.

26 . This agent appears‘

only in GOTHIC and ANGLOSAXON . The very word fram occurs but once in the Hdi

and, imu mahlidin fram mo'

daga wihti, 3931 , and then as an

adverb . Only two instances exist in OHG., sela fram hello

kihalota,1 0. and nalles fra unfrumon,

B . , the latter to render‘non pro dispendio

’f”7 Again , in OLD NORSE the idea of

descent is the nearest abstract conception of locality attainedby this preposition ,

as the F lateyj arbo’

k vers ion of Hdl. 2 5,2

attir bornir frd Jormwm'

ehhi .38 This,of course, is not um

F or the formal confusion of the two cases cf. Delbruck’s Synkretie

M 8, p. 229 ff.

” Grafi'

. D ie ahd. Praposi tionen ,Konigsberg, 1 824, p.941 .

”Detter-Heinzel, S cemfwndar E dda , II. 627,“Die Construction mit

‘fra’statt des nackten Dativs deutet vielleicht an, dass sie nicht S ohne,

sondern Enkel, Urenkel Jormunreks waren . S . oben 8 koma frd, unten

2 5 uera frd. Aber koma frci wird uraten 38 von directer Descendenz

gebraucht.”

5 32 Green

common in Got. and Ags .,ZELF RED

,Or . 40

,40 ealle 5 a men

co’

mo'n from twum gebrobran, Jh . 1 6,27 galaubidedulo batei ih

imm guda urmun .

27 As outspoken examples of agency in the two dialects maybe cited, GOTHIC—j ah gasaihvcms war}? imm izai m i éeeo

'

zen

z'

m ’abrfig, Mk. 1 6

,1 1

, j ah daupida/i wesun altai in Iaurdane

akua/i fram imma, 6717 ’abt ofi, Mk. 1

,5 17amgibcmo from aggilau

1 6 xMOév 675 6 o’

zwékou,—fram, Grimm ’s ideal preposition

With passives 39 rendering mostly always Greek In AN

GLO-SAXON , add to those in and 1 1,Sam. Chron . 627

Eadwine eining was gefulwad fram Pauline, Mk. 1,5 wwron

fram kym gefullode, ZELF RED, C’. P . ac wile east

simle se ober beo arcered from 5 02 05 mm,

‘

alter regatur ab

altero ’

.

28 . The original sense of this auctorial fram, so noticeableWith adjectives and substan tives

,as Beow. 41 9 pd ie of sear

wum owo'

m, fdh from fé ondum,

Mk fram mannam

unmahteig ist, h i fram guda m piz is particularly eviden t

in its connection With such a verb of motion as sandj an,sendan . GOTHIC

,insandips was aggilus Gabriel fram guba

1 06 05 06 L ie. 1,26 ; 2 Cor . 1

,1 6 fram izwis gasandj an mile

bo'

bué v wpowewpefivaz; ANGLO-SAXON,

‘fram Drihtne,Lk.

1,26 E lfred, Be. 475

,8 eae Vespas sianus fram him sended

wees ah eo missus .

’Bo. 1 5 0

,13 h e wii rde 1mpeah na adrifen

from Beodrice—all as plainly locative as any non-auctorial ex

press ion,such as CJEDMON ’

s Drihten sende regn fromro

’

derum.

29 . Another subtype of the ag ent in Which the local s ideis transparen t is the connection of fram With active verbs inpas sive mean ing . Consider Lk. 1 6 , 22 war]? briggan

from aggilum o’

msxefivaz 6x 6 o’

zwél wv, Wycliffe,‘

Was borun

of aungels’

,Tyndale,

‘by the angelles

’

; Lk. 3,7 atgaggandeim

manageim daupj an fram sis Bax u cefivaz 67c’az

’

n ofi,Corpus ,

beet hi wceron gefullode from him,Mk. 8

,31 uskiusan skulds

ist fmm beim sinistam o’

moBomptacOfivac o’

mb 1 03V wpecfiurs’

pmv, so

Lk. 9 , 22 and 1 7 , 2 5 a’

mé . Noteworthy is the Greek preposition

39 Deuts che Gra/mma tik,1 IV . 947 .

40 2 Cor . 2 , 6 andabeit bata fra/m managizam f] ému uia afi‘m into

raw nketévow‘quae fit a pluribus ’

is quite like agency.


5 34 Green

dyrne forligenysse ac acenned wms of celicum gesinscype‘sed

de legitimo conj ugio natus fuerat.

’

31 . As in the case of imm,so here the point from Which

an action originates may be considered the agent from Whomthe action proceeds : af thus becomes the preposition of agencyin Old Norse and its descendants , in Middle English and

,to

a limited extent, in Gothic also. Examples : GOTHIC—m'

gaj iuhaizau af unpiulm psi] Wm?) x ax ofi,Rom

ingaleihonda af wulpen in wulpu, sweswe af frauyins ahmin

meoimp o’

mb x upiou meéparog, Purvey,‘as of the spiri t of the

Lord ’. OLD NORSE 44—F ornm. X . 384 ho

’

n var of Most

hynj uo oh fwdd, F lat. I. 1 6 N ordimbmlcmd er hallatt afNordmonnum, as against the old instrumental form in F ornm.

I. 23 N oroimbralcmd var mest byggt N orfimgnnum, Sworn .

45 8 hann var viror minnzt af beim as against older form in

Hitd. 4 viroist honunginum hann afbragosmaor . Interestingare the following later examples , hine blefiue bidne ihiel afi

’

gresshopper , Bible 1 5 5 0, derfor var hannom gifiuet shield 00

hielm ct]?Ehongen, Abs . Pedersen, l 6th saaledis er den gode

Enoch hentagen, afi Gud, Vedet’s Sacco, 1 5 7 5 , Jesus som var

undfangen af den Helligaand, 1 7th century. ANGLOSAXON—Sax . Chron . 640 196 syeoan warfien gemartrode ofBunore, Lh. 6 . 1 8 Mbe wceron of unelcenum gdstum gedrehte,

Wycliffe, ‘

trauelid With vnclene spiritis’

,MOD . ICELANDIC ,

er pj ciisir voru af (ihreinum ondum; so SWEDISH and NOR

WEGIAN of, even LANDSMAAL ,var plaagad cw ureine

Andar ; Mt. 14,24 seip of 19am gbum totorfod, Wycliffe

‘throwen With waves ’

,JELF RED

,Or . 42

,1 8 hit hreowlice he

wearo adroefed of 0thinentium his agenra peode, 1 5 4, 28 see

burg wms getimbred of Lwcedemonium‘ex Lacedaemonns

conditam civitatem ’

,La}. III 289 selehifie him wes 3iue6e of

seoluen ure drihten .

32 . In the interpretation of either Gothic or Old Norse

(if it is clear that in the idea of separation the point of de

parture is equated With the author of the action . Examples

like Mi. 60 eh em sendr af S tarkaoi, Pedersen’s Nye Testa

menta,1 5 29 it menniske var udsent afi

“Gud, show this well ,

“ F or af in the Edda cf. § 14.


also connections with nouns and adjectives , as Rom. 9,3 cwa

paima wisan silba ih af X ristau o’

mb 7 06 Egilss . 1 62

hann var harmdauiii af monh am (modern ,hams dfid bekla

gedes af Alex . 8 aubhenndr af ollu fé lhinu, wherethe underlying concept of agency is felt wi thout an expressly

passive moulding .

4 5 In the English field however the questionof Old French analogy has been raised, as in the similar useof by . According to Einenkel , S treifziige, p . 1 62, the exten

sive use in Middle English of our particle as an author ’s

prepos ition ,cf. CHAUCER VI. 309

‘ thi wille fulfillid be of

thi sone ’

,MAUND . 5

‘she was buryed of the aungels

’

, is to be

attributed to the influence of Old French,as in Joinv . 232

it estoient si pressei des Turs que. In reply, it truethat as ide from few exceptions among which acenned oi ,

geboren of is to be emphas ized (cf. Jh . 3, 6 past 196 of Gdste

is deenned, Izaat is gdst, La3. II. 237 bus wees Marlin bigeten

iboren of his moder ) where the concept of origin is paramount ,the Ags . preposition of the agent is in later times regularly

from, whereas OF . uses de with passives—after ne’

naturally,as Ch

’est ou Dieus fu de vierge h e

’

s,Vrai ( miel, 347— reserving

par for instan ces which demand an energetic stress upon thesubject . But this does not ‘

do away with the fact that in Ags .

also we have that progressive development of of towards the

auctorial which,despite the similar OF . usage

,betokens a

no inconsiderable degree of independence. Jesperson ,in Eng .

S tudien, 34, 1 63, points out a pertinent instance of how a

certain classic example of English relative construction ap

pearing in Dickens ’ ‘I knows a lady

,which her name is

Harris ’

and away back in Ags . se god iSe ?Sis his beacen wces,

can be found not only in French,Spanish , Portuguese, but

even in N ew Greek , L ithuan ian and Malayan .

33. The French influence,although absolutely plaus ible,

again cannot simply be saddled on the Middle English phrase.

The insufi‘iciency of linguistic documents

,deplored in §1 9,

“ There would be no doubt to the Gothic mind, as Grimm2 IV . 781

remarks, between afnima da fram W and Lk . 8, 1 8 afnimada afimm . Similarly in 2 Thess . j ah. ei us la/usj aindcm af gas toj anaim

j ah ubi laim mannam the meaning is clearly ‘deliverance from’

and in

Lk . 1 8, 34‘concealment from.

’

5 36 Green

does to be sure do away with positive proofs of refutation,

but this does not in itself preclude the possible existence of

of’s auctorial uses . The French construction may well have

aided the English to attain a predominant value and a general

currency in its epoch ,46 but we have at leas t two incontestable

proofs in favor of Ags . of, Viz. that numerically it shows a

marked gain over fram already in the Saxon Chronicle (of .

and that we can fin d in Anglo-Saxon those presup

positions which we observed in the case of other prepos itionsto have been conducive to the personal agent with pass ives .

34. L et us instance the latter . As in ON . gerber bile

frcégj an af firenwerhom,EH . I. 43

,5,so we have in AGS .

expressions of means real as well as nearer the efficient cause,Bl. Ham. 1 1

,9 weorpia

fn we"

be cldpas his hddes, of ocem waas

are geoynd geedneéwod, E LF RED,Be. 493

,9 Poet iScere

mennisccm geeynde of celmihtiges Godes gyfe gehealdcmwws‘ quod naturae humanae ex omnipotentis Dei dono servatum

est’

,ZELF RIC

,I. 2

,402 of beere lafe wceron gefyllede seofcm

spyrta/n, where we see an actual competition with mid, I.

gereordiab of Drihtnes hlcifum,Orrm. 10137 0]?

C piss

hirrtell mahht tu get deepliherr unnderrstanndenn . The cause

or reason is evident in E LF RED, C . P . oonne hie

of yflum wi llen h e gesyngao ac of unwisdome cit ungewisses

oboe ungewaldes 05 5 e of fleeslicum gecynde 066 6 of wdcmodnesse

crt of unbieldo obbe of untrymnesse modes oboe lichoman,Orrm. 5 5 48 patt hemm babe two he bett patt te33 neh te

biggenn, La3. 24227 heore ;eolp makeden of muchele bigeten .

Sax on . Chron . 1 083 hawwron 17amunecas switSe dferede of heom

and R eg . Ben . 23,35 of domesda; bean ofdrad and of hel

lewi te agrisan are right on the threshold of agency. Similarcausality can be gathered from GOTHIC and OLD NORSE

,

Jh . 14,10 190 waurda poei ih rodj a, izwis, af mis silbin c

’

m’

éuaurofih i rodj a, L ie. 8,1 4 j ah af saurgom int?) uspcuvéiv

‘

gaggandans afhvapncmd ; Hdo . 5 7,1 brandr af brandi brenn

unz brunninn er, funi kveyhish of fund , Ham. hire

eigi 1myfir at stigask af illu‘noli vinci a malo ’

. Moreover,

‘6 It must be recalled that fra/m is at this time not yet extinct, R . ofG I. 5 5 00 fra/m God geham ysend.


5 38 Green

dem lande. In a trans ferred sense,T. 97 arstuont fan to

ten, Parz. 480, 1 5 einem helfen van der né t; so, too, descent ,gl. K . fona herostin

,Ra. fona drume ‘

a s tirpe,N ib.

Hagene van Tronej e. Causality, in the sense of modern ‘er

fiel von einer Kugel ’ , T. 62,12 fon thinen uuorton uuirctis tu

girehfestigot, inti fan thinen uuorton uuirdis ta fornidarit,Pare. 21 1

,20 ieweder ros van muede dampf, Walth . 3

,26 sin

kraft van diner kraft verzaget. The thinking agent workingto a definite end, Is . 4

,7 gahad fona dhem angilum,

T. 1 3,6

nalles fen bluote ouh fen gote giborané warun—in which thelocal notion is transparent

,as also in Is . fona fater

ward chiboran, Nat. ps . 35 3-b keboren fone magede—N . 36, 23

fone gote uuerdent herihtet, which has the same force as

the transitional N . 32,6 sine himela gefestenot fona gates

uuorte. Miscellaneous MHG . examples : ir wart von mir

gnade gesagt, Iw.

, von ir gevidere wart diu linde bedaht,

ibid .,do wart genomen bi der hant von wcetlichen rechen

manic wip wolgetc‘

m,N ib. der rede wart gelachet da von

mah iger edeler muoter kinde, Gudr . From LOW GERMAN,

fan waldandes worde gibiudid, B et. 1074,thiu thar werfiad

ahlitdid fan thero hé logun tungun, fon them galme godes, Hel.

ilc geuuisso gasazt bin leaning van ' himo ‘constitutus

sum rex ab eo’

,P3 . 2

,mistro

‘

t bin fan stimmen fiandes in

fan arbeide, 5 4, 3 tedeilda sint fan abulg‘

z‘

ansceines s inis‘ divis i

sunt ah ira vul tus ej us’

,5 4

,22 .

37 The relation of the von-phrase, to designate the agent

with pass ive expressions,to the pure dative in the same

function ,indifferently termed the dative of interest or the

dative of agency,is of great importance because of the develop

ment of the German ic dative itself. The case of this dativeis usually stated 5 2

as that after the gerundi ve infinitive

and after verbal adjectives in -bar and -lich and some pas t par

ticiples , felt as adjectives,such a dative may be cons idered as

one expressive of agency, on the assumption that the person for

whom the action may or must take place or is an accomplished“ Cf. also B et. 5 026 it was bi thesun liudin giducm.

5 1 F rom Heyne, K leinere altm’

ederdeu tsche De'nkfme'

iler2 1 877 .

Cf. Gurme , A Gramma r of the German L anguage, p. 5 36 , and Blatz.

N euhochdeutsche Grammatik, I I , 423.


fact,is the very same that performs the action . Still in other

words ,‘was von jemand gethan wird, wi rd in irgend einem

sinne fiir ihn gethan .

’ 5 3 Accordingly ‘

alles ist dem Auge

erreichbar ’is similar in force to, though not as subjective as ,

‘

es war fiir mich zur Zeit unausfiihrbar ’and to

‘anderen

Sterblichen schiin ,kaum noch gesehen von mir ’

. The same

category of sheer interest would embrace also ‘eine Seele, die

der L ist und der L iebe gleich unbetretbar war’

,

‘wer s ich

der ausseren Wirkung ergibt,wird Feinden gefangen ’

,i . e.

‘den Feinden zum Vorteil ’, ‘

uns ist die Schlacht gewonnen ’

,

‘neue Gedanken fiihl

’ ich,von denen mir vordem keiner

gedacht war .

’

38 . However,the syncretistic character of the Germanic

dative,in that it represents functionally an older instrumental

as well , (to omi t the ablative and the locative here) , doesnot allow of this simple conception of our dative as merely

a species of the dative of interest . Wh ils t there is no difficultyin the diagnosis of the dative ‘ governed ’ by van as an originalablative

,

5 4 the formal confusion of the dative and of the in

strumental into what is termed ‘ dative ’

,cf. §8 , would tend to

pos tulate some recogn ition for the ins trumental ingredientsof this ‘ dative ’

. Narrowed down to fundamentals , it is thecase of the Greek dative transplanted to the Germanic soil .With the aid of kindred phenomena in other Indo-European

languages , we are in a position to observe in Greek this in

strumental constituent from its basic meaning of concomi

taney right up to the fun ction of agency, as in examples

like S oph . Ai . 5 39 wpocaéhozg or Isec . 0’

m0

6101 7351 53100w él s 020700500“of the money owed by (not

‘due

to’

) Regardless of this evidence,however

,

5 6 gram

marians as a rule pers is t in ignoring the lesson of parallel

procedure that can be drawn from the Sanskrit , Aves tan and

Slavic extension of the material use of the instrumental to“Winkler, Germanische Cam ssyntaw, p. 80.

“4 Old High German combinations of can with instrumental forms likethiu and this iu are comparatively young possibilities , where such formswere in all likelihood petrified and adverbial in force.

I”Cf. Meisterhaus, Gr.

” 1 5 6, 172 .

“ Cf. Dative of Agency, p. 72 fl’.

5 40 Green

fl

the personal , and will render a Homeric 0600 0 oi

x h c inoz ?\ékemro, N 1 68,by ‘which for him was left in the

ten t ’

,

5 7as if it were un iversally es tablished that what one

forgets to take along with him,is left somewhere for him.

39 . It is the existence of such a dative-instrumental of

agency that one is inclined to vindicate for OLD HIGH GERMAN also.

5 8 Language, to be sure,seems to have found

a formal means of distinguishing between the various case

forces amalgamated in the‘ dative ’

, for such fun ctions as ,

through a comparison with related languages,can be reduced

to an original locative,ablative or instrumental, are in general

replaced by and restricted to equivalent prepositional phrases .

Old High German has already to a great extent completed

this refinement, consequently we feel today that all that hasnot assumed this new form

,belongs to the domain of the

real dative, for which Germanic has had a decided predi lection .

This is the reason why we cannot decide by their own evi

dences an OTF RIDIAN fatere giboranan ebanewigan , an

EDDIC vasat hann asom ali frm,an ANGLO-SAXON lodern

eafera wees cefter cenned'

geong in geardum,or a GOTHIC

lingada anharamma. On the other hand,we may well sur

mise their real character , despite the datival garb of the

logical subjects,when we turn to other languages and meet

SAN SKIRT sahasa yo’

mathito’

j ayaté nrbhih‘ begotten by

men’

,ins trumental

,and

,for marital relations , SLAVIC j aho

oé eni se j ej a 5 t a 056101) éyo’

zuwev, Mk. 6,1 7

,instrumental ; and

when we see in OLD NORSE va/r af Most hynj uts oh faedd,F ornm. 10

,384

, and s imilarly in ANGLO-SAXON,lingui stic

feeling further defined and amplified in later prepositionalexpressions that would never have come about had thesedatives been pure datives of interest—CZEDMON ,

E l. 775

s é -iSe on ro’

de wees 0nd parh Ma'

rian in middangeard deenned

weard, or Bl. Ham. 31,24 3 5 ilca sunu wees cer eallum

tidum acenned fram God F eeder, s é E lmihtiga from pan E l

mihtigan or Jh . 3,6 pwt be of gaste is acenned . And this

amplification in express ion occurs when prepos itionless dative

ls"Monro, A Grammar of the H ome ric D ialect”, § 143, 5 .

“8 Cf. §4 for the other Germanic dialects.


5 42 Green

pass ive at all,and the periphrasis of Slavic

,Sanskrit and

Avestan ,simi lar to the Germanic combinations wi th * wesan

and would mean the absence of finite passive verbalrelations in those languages as well . And yet we have inthese very tongues evidence of the bare participle, withoutthe copula so essential in German ic

,connected with instru

mental forms in instrumental fun ction to denote the logicalsubject . So we see

60 in SANSKRIT,RV . 1

,1 63

,2 yaména

dattah‘which is given by Yama ’

,AVESTAN

,Yt. 10, 38

O

frazinte anasitci maé eanya‘

the houses which are not in

habited by posterity ’

,but especially in SLAVIC

,with the bulk

of its finite pas s ives expressed solely by the participle, pravimii

divéma aggeloma, Supr. 1 24,26

,

‘

qui a duobus angelis ducitur’

(so reminiscent of. Eddie s ash primr veram vegin at hasi, Ghv.

10,

a turn which some grammarians would not hesitate torender

,if paralleled in Germanic by a dative-instrumental

of agency,as

‘ zwei Engeln gefiihrt ’.

42. Admitting moreover that the participles were, accordingto their origin

,adjectives and in the periphrases with ”“wesan

and ”“wer}9an would surely be felt at first as such , already

Old High German bears out the fact that they early combinedwith aux iliaries to form a unit

, so that they were not independent predicate adjectives , but, inseparable from the aux

iliaries , part of a well-defined verbal predicate, especiallywith which expressed an entrance into the state

denoted by the participles .

6 1 Thus,Otfr . 2

,21

,44 gizelit

sint theme, 2 , 2, 30 nu sint fan gote erborane, 3, 22, 1 9 irfai

giloubet‘

thoh thiu halt, thae ist in afto gisalt, 1 , 1 7 , 73 si

wurtun slafente fan engilun gimanote, 4, 1 6, 1 3 thi ans gi

scriban ist and many others are shown by the context to bedi stinctly compound pas t tenses into which the adjectivalforce need not be read , and even cannot becaus e of the pres

en ce of a logical subject or of an adverb . Moreover, already

in OHG. the personal periphrasis in the passive was the

equivalent of an active verb with an accus ative, as Otfr .

4,4,9 wirdit fan in funtan ein esilia gibuntan, for LatinCf. Dative of Agency, p. 1 18 .

0l Cf. Wilmanns, Deu ts che Grammatik, 81, §73.


‘

invenietis asinam alligatam.

6 2 It does not seem to be an

open question that the formation of the younger compoundpassives

,ich bin, was gebwnden and ich bin, was gebunden

gewesen, in use since the 14th and 1 5 th centuries ,6 3 has largely

been responsible for the modern revival of the original adj ectival meaning of the participle ; such random ins tancesas ich bin begraben gewesen, Konr . v . Wii rz . Troj . 1 6937 ,

es ist oflt durch Concilia etwas furgewant, aber durch etlicher

menschen list behendiglich verhindert and immer erger wor

den,Luther, show that warden really belongs first of all to

the adjective and that,in attaching itself to the parti ciple,

levels the latter to the rank of an adjective. In this process ,participles like betrii bt, bekannt, that had long been ad

j ectives , must have been of material aid.

43. This then is the situation in general terms . The wr iterwould accordingly be the first to discoun tenan ce any attempt

to secure from modern German a tabulation of such auctorialdatives as may show a possible instrumental connotation , as

against the large mass of genuine datives a delimitationwould simply prove unfeasible. But when he sees the ab

solute need—and possibility—in the other Germanic dialectsof a partly instrumental conception of this dative and whenhe finds OLD lHIGH GERMAN itself offering actual in

strumental forms 6 4expressive, upward of the original comi

tatiy e function ,not only of real means , B ild . 5 3 suertu hauwan,

40 wi li mih dinw spera werpan, Murb. B ym. 1 9,

faasziu katretanti

,but also of efficient cause Musp . 5 3 suilizé t

lougiu himil, Otfr . 2,22

,22 thu hungiru nistirbist

,Pa. I. 40

,25

ubilu cadungan, Is . druhtines uuordu sindun himila

chifestinode, 1 5 , 3 sines mundes gheistu standit al iro megin ;also OLD SAXON ih bithui mgan uuas thurstu endi hungru,

” Cf. Erdmann-Mensing, Gmndzuge der dent. Syntax , I. 89, and CunyDer temperate Wert der pas siven Umschreibungen im Ahd. Diss . Bonn,1905 ; Oberg, Uber die hochdeu ts che Pas sivums ehreibung, Land , 1907

“

L iifi‘ler, Das Pas siv bei Otfrid and im H eliand, D is s, Tubingen, 1905 ,

p. 1 5

“ Cf. Wunderlich, Der deutsche Satzbau’, I. 144 , and Wilmanns op.

cit. 31 , §76, Grimm”, IV , 1 6 .

°4 Cf. Ehret, Der Ins trumentalis izm Ahd . Diss . Heidelberg, 1 907 .

5 44 Green

B et. 4400, cf. Otfr . 1,1,35 mit regulu bithuungan—then

surely he feels j ustified to postulate at least for'

the older

period of German,before the formation of the new pas sives

above alluded to,and for reasons firmly rooted in the ob

servable facts of his torical development, the old inheritedforce of the instrumental of agency for all datives employed

as logical subjects whose connotation is not palpably one of

mere subjective interest . The number of these—a suitable

collection is still a desideratum—will not be found to be

great. The reason for this is to be sought not only in the prepos itional usages of men like NOTKER ,

but also in the predilec

tion of writers like OTF RID for the so-call ed indefin ite passive ,

i . e. one whose psychological subject is not expressedm a

trait common also to the Heliand.

6 5 With prose writings ,on the other hand, that are sheer translations , like ISIDOR

and TATIAN,care must be exercised to ascertain the extent

of Latin influence.

6 6 It is encouraging, however, to haveGrimm2 insert a passage, p . 8 5 7 of vol. 4

,

‘Beim pas s iv dat.

pro instr .

’and quote

‘

dat mi liever ontboren ware (das

besser von mir unterlassen ware) F erguut 2921 ; mhd . daz

ist mir ungetan ,vgl . ahd. strife antsuebit (somno sopiti ) Diut .

1,5 05

b

Could not Otfr . V . 1,27 mit thiu ist thaw

bizeinit, theis imo ist al gimeinit, Tat. prol . 3 uuas mir

gisehan‘visum est mihi ’

,

6 7 35,2 zi thiu thae thu mannun

mi sis gisehan fastenti‘ne videaris hominibus ieiunans

’

,

6 8

1 26,1 8 quid ans uuaz thir gisehan si, 1 97 , 3 niouuiht wirdic

tode ist imo getan , be considered in this connection ?44. With respect to (4)

*uz—GOTHIC as concerns us

only,since ON . Gar, OHG ,

ar do not seem to appear in auctor

ial phrases— it is but another local prepos ition ,combined

with a dative-ablative,with which the ‘ place ’ develops into

a concept of authorship,

‘out of

’ yielding to‘away from

’

and‘ done by

’

,as in the case of van . We shall here content

“5 Cf. L oflier, Das Pas s iv bei Otfrid and im H elia nd , Diss . Tubingen,1 905 , p. 1 1 if .

66 Cf. Kaufmann, fiber Genera Verbi im Ahd. Diss . L eipzig, 1 9 12, p .

91 fi'

.

67 But inti gis ehan waas fan in‘visus esset ab eis

’.

68 But‘

u t pareant komin ibus ,’

is thaz sie s ih ofi'

onon mammn.


5 46 Green

shef award bithekit mit den undon, cf . also Iw. 3607 wan

daz er was bedwi mgen mit selher siecheite, S ervat. 1 781

mit dem tode town , but instances of personal agency, as in

the later isolated cas e from E ckhart, in wart ze tis che gedient

wol mit ( = von ) getwé rgen, are wanting. This is also char

acteristic of OLD SAXON . In OLD NORSE,vip, the pre

pos ition which in English fuses with mid, stands in the Eddiepoems only for the means through which something is ac

complished, as Grm. 45,2 svipom hefk mi ypt fyr sigtiva

sanom,vi}? pat shal vilbj org vaha. In the modern dialects

,

as e. g . DANISH,ved is us ed only for the intermediate

agent, of being the real auctorial particle, as Jh . 1,10 verden

er giort ved ham‘

mundus per ipsum factus est’Rom. 1 1

, 36

af ham 0g ved ham og til ham ere alle Ting,‘ex ipso et per

ipsum et in ipso sun t omnia ’

; Bogen er udgivet af Litteratur

selskabet ved N . N .

47 . In ANGLO-SAXON and ENGLISH,however

,we see

the development in its full form . Instrumen tality, Gen .

25 1 mid his handum gesceop, Oros . 288,1 weard J mid 5 mm

brceiSe ofsmorod,Mt. 1 2

,44 geclcfinsod mid besemum. Efficient

agen cy, Be. 5 87,7 19a wees he gehrinen mid untrumnesse

‘

arreptus infirmitate,C . P . 1 80

,1 1 mid 5 g storme (ft mid

heare yste onwend d'

é oferworpeh , Metr . wcestm

todrifen si5 6an wide mid winde, personal, 0had . 1 5 8gelededa mid engla hreatum to 5 am eoan gefean, where thebasic idea of as sociation is still apparen t, C

’. P . 41 5

,1 8 5 a

wees his mod gehceft mid 5 mm mcedene (modern ,

‘to be taken

with Be. pref . he me swde of Theodores and Adrianas

1°07

“?a he swytiost woes mid him gekered . It is indeednot surpris ing that

,with the loss of mid, the preposition

with supplan ting it, the latter, though fundamentally ad

versitive,

70 is also found in auctorial expressions , CHAUCER ,

II. 84‘

with twenty kn ightes take’1 e. to be taken ,

P . PLOUGH .

35 3‘

that robbed was with theves TOWN . M. 290‘

stolne is he

with Jues ’

,SHAKSPEARE ,

Ado, II , 1 , 5 1‘he is attended with

a desperate train ’

, Caes . III. 2,1 97 Aed .

‘

He’

s coming .

’Brut.

‘

How accompanied Aed .

‘With oldMenenius .

’It will be seen

7° Cf. Hittle, op. cit., p. 1 66 fl’.


that the idea denoted by with may be felt as mere participatiou in something by a person ,

intensified to agency.

SHAKSPERE,by the way , still employs with even in the

function of. the intermediary, something which has since becomerare

,E rr . V . 1

,230

‘he did arres t me with ’

,i . e. by means of,

an officer, B y 6, B . I. 3,33

‘

send for his master with a pursui

vant ’.

7 1 Nor is the immediate author , as in Tennyson’

s‘vex

’d

with a morbid devil in his blood ’

,usual ; cf . the biblical L ie.

7,24—GOT . raus fram winda wagid, AGS . hreod ?Se by}a mid

winde dstryred, WYCLIFFE ,

‘Wawid with the wynd ’

,

SCANDINAVIAN af : ICEL . af vindi shehinn, SWED . afw-a

'

dret, DAN . af Veiret.

48 . It will have been noticed that in the foregoing paragraphs the chief care has been to locate the ori ginal forceof the prepositions and to trace their evolution into the proximate agent ; what specific case-forms each combined with toexpress this function ,

was held only of secondary importance.

Thus it is irrelevant to the discussion that Anglo-Saxon midmay govern

’not only the dative and the instrumental , but

the accus ative as well . On the other hand,attention was

drawn to the fact that the prepositions were originally localin application and that according to the nature of this localitythey became connected with a dative representing either anablative or an instrumental

,or even with survived instru

mental forms . The DIRECTIVE PREPOSITION (1 )next to be cons idered, is one which has largely accusativalconnections ; that in Anglo-Saxon

,for instance, we find also

the dative and genitive with it, is immaterial at this point.

GOTHIC Pairh, AGS . purh, OHG. duruh, mod. durch, denotes

at first s imple entrance, passing, piercing through a res istingspace or object

, as T. 1 13 ingah gan tharah thia engun phorta,

Mk. pairh bairho h eblos galeipan Bao‘

c 071g t puaakw'

ég

073g 0a<p£00g eigskeeiv, j ELF RIC,Gr . 47 5 arh 5 a duru w

'

e'

gad . Once conceived causally,it comes to express not only

the ins trument of the action,as AGS . Gen . 45 3 he gefe

‘

rde

purh feondes croefte, Beow. 5 5 7 fornam purh mine

hand,GOT. Mk. 6

,2 ei mahteis

‘swaleihos pairh handuns is

71 F ranz, S hakespeare p. 41 9 .

5 48 Green

wairpand, but the intermediate person respons ible for the ac

tion ,as well as the actual agent with passives . We meet thus in

GOTHIC with examples like Jh . 1 4,6 ainshwn m

’

qimip at

attin, nibaPairh mile05 éaofi, 1 , Cor . 1 5,2 pairh batei j ah gah isi]?

0z’05 mal cé CeGOs , but also Mt. 27

,9 panuh usfullnoda bata

qipano pairh Iairaimian praufetau qipandan 10 071001)‘

Iepsptiou Mt. 8 , 1 7 pata gamelido pairh E sa’

ian prau

feta qipandcm,Lh. 1 8

,31 Pata gamelido pairh praufetuns, 2 . Cor .

1 1 1 so giba pairh managans awi liadodau 0z0‘

cwol l é w

eoxapwmef). HIGH GERMAN instances of agency, T. 1 1 2

thia dar giscriban sint tharah thie uuizagon, 13, 5 uueralt

uuard tharah inan gitan ; so T. 5,9,Is . 2

,1,Is . 3

,3 etc .

7 2

Also N ib. 5 27,3 der Guntheres sal wart bezimbert durch

manegen fremden man,Brant, N arrensch . 1 3

,60 Danae ent

pfing nit durch das gott, Luther, 2 Chron . 23,1 8 durch David

getihtet. ANGLO-SAXON—C’

ynew. E l. 1 1 5 3 woes se witedom

purh fyrnwitan sungen, Sax . Chron . 1014 wearo beet earme

folc pus beswicen purh hine, 1 1 23 ?Sis wces oall ear gedon

0arh se bisceop of S eresbyrig (0 purh se biseop of L incolne,Wulfst. 5 4

,1 2 5 arh deofol forlcered, E lfred, Or . 10

,23

ao heo wear0 gesci ld purh pone eristnan casere, E lfric

(Kluge, L es . 5 7 , hi wardon gehcelede purh pone halgan

wer, and later , Orrm. 1 6084 patt wass don barrh Jesu Grist,

La}. I. 1 3 porh him heo sculden deigen, RG. 9779 be charche

was ifounded poru Henri, Town . M. 273 what thyng is done

thrughe wyhyd Jaes . Final ly, a comparison of

Mt. 2 , 5—purh 0one witegan in Corpus , bi a prophete in

Wyclifie—gives the following for the SCANDINAVIANdialects

,Danish and N orw. ved, Swed. genom Propheten,

but

Icelandic , er ritati af spamanninum Mt. 2,1 7 ai in all , but

Icelandic,sem mcelt er fyrir Jeremias however, 8 , 1 7 , Dan .

Norw. ved, Swed . genom,Icel . fyrir ; again Lk. Dan .

ved, Swed . af PrOpheterna, N orw . ved, Icel . af spamo'nnaaum,

—showing how opinions diverge in some instances as to the

conception of a mediate or of a proximate agent.

49. (2 )*To —English to is the only one to interest us .

7’ Incidentally I fail to see any compelling reason for the change.

in

Is . 2 5 , 2 1 (cd. Weinhold) of fona to 8 6 é r bifora wuardh chiehwndit

DH URAH dhen forasagun.


5 5 0 Green

erkennenne mannon, 2, 8 , 27 their stuantan wazarfaz then

mannon sih si wasganne, T. 68,3 thin erloubit h i uua/run

imo s i ezzane, nibi then einun heithaftun mannon ; so the

GOTHIC,Mk. 2

,26 banzei ni skuld ist matj an niba ainaim

gudj am, AGS . be him h e algfede ad’

aron to etanne, baton

sa'

cerdofn anum,to which cf . Ps . 1 6

,1 4 hi eton swynenflcesc,

poet Judeam unalyfedlie ys to etanne. Other GOTHIC in

stances , Mt. 6,1 da saihuan im,

Lh. 2,6 usfullnodedan dagos

da bairan izai . The dative, no doubt,belonged originally

to the predicate of the sentence, but became in a natural

way ,through the im?) mow06 construction ,

attached to the in

finitive and became its logical sub ject .5 0. As to the transition of this dative

,of either source,

into the Middle English to-phrase, one only has to think of

the many past participles that coul d be used for adjectives

and of the adjectives that had a semi -verbal force. If MIL

TON can say ,P . L . 3

,5 4

‘ invis ible to mortal sight ’

,9,1086

‘ highest words impenetrable to star or sunlight ’

,jus t as we

say today,‘ inaccessible to wrong ’

,

‘ impassable to the wicked ’

,

so already in AGS . we find Sax . Chron . 101 1 beet wees um

dseegendlic ci nigum mean , Oros . 21 4,21 hit is as uncu6 (ft

ungeliefedlic, Be. 5 49,1 5 gesyneliee eallum manh unt, 5 5 2 , 1 7

menniscum cage ungesewenlice, Verbal adjectives as against

Wulfst. tonne bid as gesawen, an adjectival participle. The

same idea is expressed by means of the identical verbal rootin two ways in Be. 5 04

,30 forpferd

'

e 6a Gode se leofe fwdor

Agustinas , but 3, 1 4 he wces fram eallum monh am lufad,“

and Beow. 1 25 5 poet gesyne wearp, widow]? weram,butMt. 6

,1 8

boat bit h e 33] gesewen fram mannum fcestende. Interesting is

Lk. 8,27 Gode synd mihtelice 195 ping pe mannum synd i m

mihtelice, when Lk. has h ys cele word mid Gode un

mihtelic.

5 1 . This ends our inves tigation . The concrete resul tsthereof lie, of course, in the details of the discus sion whichtreats of the inner development and outer history of the

individual prepos itions . F or the former, it must again .

be

“ E lfric , wearfi“

Ba hi/m inwoardliee gelufod, Sweet’

s R eader‘, 14 A . 16 ,

is instrumental dative .

The Analytic Agent in Germanic 5 5 1

emphasized that , just as the ins trumental and causal domainsborder hard on each other and partly pas s into each other,so causality and authorship are distinctions but of degree

and not of kind . This may be regarded as absolutely axiomatic . As for the latter, namely the varying fortunes of

the auctorial prepositions,especial attention is reques ted to

the question of foreign influence on Middle English and to

the attempt made to fix the status oi. the bare dative of agencyin Old High German with respect to the phrase introducedby the prepos ition fona. To thes e may be added a further,and somewhat obvious , observation ,

V iz . the extraordinarytendency in English not only to multiply the uses of prepo

sitions -but,conversely, to multiply the prepositions in a given

use. We have noted fully seven prepositions,employed either

s imul taneously or divided at no dis tant periods , to express

the logical subject of passive verbs . This is a fact ; the whyand the wherefore of it, however, is shrouded in that will

o’-the-wisp play and coun terplay of psychological forces which

,

for want of better unders tanding,we term ‘ processes of lin

guistic cons ciousness .

’ Whence the necessity of supplan tingpurh with from? Why the substitution of by for of Wherein lies the superior serq ice of one over the other ? These

are questions we mus t perforce leave here unanswered . One

assumption however, gathered in the course of study, maybe risked wi th reasonable certainty : jus t as the loss of the

traditional distinctions between ,let us say , the dative, ablative

and instrumental qualities in L atin equo’

necessarily broughtabout the clearer presen tation of these respective ideas by

means of satisfactory prepositions , so the confusion resultingfrom the co-existence of the several auctorial phrases mustof itself have demanded a gradual clearing-up . Undoubtedly,the same syn tactic notion being, as we have seen

,variously

expressed by various prepositions gave rise to different

determinations of the same idea, all depending upon the View

point embodied in the original signification of the prepos itions ,-yet, were not the final results absolutely identical ? It is here

that the economy of express ion we mentioned in the introductory remarks , stepped in an

fi

d reaflirmed the progressive

tendency of language by the destruction of synonymity and the

5 5 2 Green

creation of clearnes s out of chaos : first Purh begins to loseground, then fram follows suit

,and then of gives way to by,

which becomes the modern preposition of agency through thegradual supersession of all its competitors . It is no mere empty

phrase that in language, too, we have a struggle for existenceand a survival of the fittest. Only ,

it must ever be rememberedthat ‘ language ’ means the mentality of the people speaking it

and that the human mind abhors abstruseness .

ALEXANDER GREEN .



5 5 4 Tupper

same clear-eyed scholar calls , the line of leas t resistance byfalling into the well -worn ex empla track , ” there are some

who are sadly puzzled by a design so different from theirtwentieth-century conception of a poet ’

s province. Is it permitted me to regard as a happy augury the readiness of

certain eminent specialists and Chaucer-lovers to approve my

carefully considered efiort to walk within the only pales that

Chaucer knew ? It seems to them as to me that,as scholars ,

we must always ask this question ,

“What did our medieval

thinker mean by this ? and not,

“What is the obvious mean

ing to the casual reader of tod ay,who has made no attempt

to plumb the depths and shallows of medieval thought ?”Before we turn to the tale that is our chief concern ,

let me cite several instances in which Chaucer ’s intent has

been altogether lost . I have already commented at length

upon the delicious irony of a long harangue againstPride in the tale of the proudest figure among the pilgrims ,the Wife of Bath . Such a sermon is quite in accord withthat just knowledge of human nature which makes each way ‘

farer assail his individual fault or the notorious weaknessof his type. But the homily must fit the story as well as the

storyteller,if. the author is an artist . And the place of

this preachment in the tale has been as thoroughly ignoredas its relation to the Wife. No one has suggested in thisconnection—no one with only the modern outlook could sug

gest—that the Loathly Dame ’s discourse on Pride introduces

a common element in the conception of courtly love It is

this Vice against which the God of Love warns the gentle

lover” of the Romaunt of the Rose (2245 f . )F or pryde is founde in every partContrarie unto L oves art.

And he that loveth trewelyShulde him comtenc j olily,Withouten pryde in sondry; wyse .

2

The verbal parallels between the Dame ’s exhortation to

gentilesse (D 1 l 09f. ) and the God of Love ’s command ,

Romaunt of the Rose, 21 87f.,have been often noted with

never a thought of the bearing of this relation upon the

’ See Dodd’s Cou rtty L ove in Chau cer and Gower, p. 26.

The Pardoner’s Tavern 5 5 5

essential purpose of the Wife ’s Tale of obedience in love.

Troilus,who, like the knight of the Wife ’

s Tale, is an“obe

dien t” lover in a courtly s tory , divests hims elf utterly, underLove ’

s influence, of the S in of Pride (I, 1079f . )F or he bicom the frendlyeste Wight,The gentileste, and eek the moste free,The thriftieste and oon the beste knight,That in his tyme was, or mighte be.

Dede were his j apes and his crueltee,

H is heighe port and his manere estraunge,

And ech of tho gan for a vertu chaunge.

So far from being irrelevant , the sermon of the Wife ’s

story is not only,like all the homilies in the Sins tales , in

ironical accord with the character of the narrator, but is

admirably su ited to the context of romantic love.

2 a How

obvious all this mus t have been to the medieval reader !

Or to take another illustration of the Wide gap between

our critical Viewpoint and fourteen th-century literary design .

To our way of thinking nothing could be less apposite thanthe Poverty prologue, which in troduces the Man of Law ’

s

Tale of Constance. But every man of the Middle Ages musthave recognized at once the inherent fitnes s of prefacing

a tale of Envy—for Chaucer here is in Grower ’s wake3—with

s tanzes illustrating such a dominant phase. of Envy as

“

grucchyng”against one ’

s wretched lot and “sorwe of other

mannes wele (see Parson’s Tale, 483, 498 ) or , more precisely,

that Impatient Poverty which is traditionally associated withEnvy even as late as the middle s ixteenth century .

4

The las t word has not been said on the subject of Chaucer ’s

direct sources , despite the energy of hunters . Patristic or

To Chaucer as to his great exemplar, “Amore e’l cor gentil sono

una cosa.

”

3 A s I have already shown in my Publications article, Chaucer usesfour of Gower’s stories to illustrate the same Sins. N o one has noted

that our poet’s independent development of ewempI/wm themes suggested

by his contemporary recalls the very similar indebtedness of The L egend

of Good women to Boccaccio’

s topics rather than to his stories .

4 I discuss in The N ation, July 9, 1 914, the light c ast by the morality,

Impatient Poverty”, circa 1 5 60 (“L os t” Tudor P lays , edited by F armer) ,.upon the time-honored relation betweerfithis form of Poverty and Envy.

5 5 6 Tapper

igins of large portions of the Summoner ’s and Physician ’

s

Tales have been entirely di sregarded, as I show in an articlenow in press . Moreover far too little has been made

of the parallels between our poet ’s motives and those of his

contemporaries , Grower, Langland , Wyclif. But the sourcehunter, hard on the trail of obvious plunderings , is in dangerof forgetting that a far larger significance than unquestionedliftings can possibly possess often attaches to close res emblan ces between two authors who are giving and taking noughtdirectly but who are both repeating current fancies . Suchparallels constitute the highest evidence for an established

tradition and hence are our safest guides to a proper per

spective. L et me illustrate the value of such a s tudy of

tradition by a comparison between some of Chaucer ’s fami liar

conceptions and the stock figures of that remarkable summary

of the typical weaknesses and weaklings of medieval society,the Ship of F ools .

Among the many social types preserved in Barclay ’

s early

sixteenth-century vers ion of the famous satire5 are the Proudand Shrewish Wife and the Drunken Cook . The pictureof the woman as sometimes wise, but often foolish of coun

sel,largely given to chiding , so wrathful that “

she passyth

all the cruel bestis of Inde”—even the tiger robbed of her

whelps ,—ever devising scorn ,full of guile and falsehood

,and

emptying by her proud apparel her husband ’s purse

,acknowl

edging Pride as lady and mistress,well images a conception

of the sex which Chaucer turned to large account and whichlong pers isted in literature.

6 Indeed the sketch of the Wife

of Bath owes quite as much to this tradition as to the

Romawh t of the Rose or to the Miroir da Mariage. To the

proverbial drunkenn ess of Cooks , which is as old as classical

comedy, Barclay devotes an entire section (II , 91 The

tsBarclay’s S hip of F ools , edi ted by Jamieson, 1874, 2 vols .

“S uch sixteenth-century products as“The Proude Wyves Pater

N oster,” “The Wife L apped in Morrelles Skin,

” “The Pride and

Abuse of Women,” “

A Glasse to V iewe the Pride of Vaineglorious

Women,

”(Hazlitt, R emains of Early Popular Poetry, vol . .all

continue the tradition that feminizes the F irst o f the Deadly Sin s inLangland, Chaucer and the example-books , and much later in Spenser.


5 5 8 Tapper

French scholar does not record that the p ilgrims are stillseated in the ale-house, when ,

at the conclus ion of his tale,

the wonderful scoundrel bids them (C 92 5 -926 )Cometh forth anon and kneleth heer adoun,

And mekely receyveth my pardouml

Will anyone dare sugges t that the company are now ahorseand that the Pardoner proposes to them to dismount that hemay confer absolution ? Nor can it be alleged that the

Pardoner is here merely rehears ing a sermon without thoughtof his present company or surroundings—as indeed he is

doing some lines above when he calls,

“ Cometh up, ye

wyves , offreth of your wolle ! ” and adds , Lo,s irs

,thus

I preche.

” He now not only alludes to the story that hehas just told

,

“But, sirs , 0 word forgat I in my tale, ” but

proceeds to discuss the pilgrims ’ wayfaring through town ’s

end and countryside in the high honor and worth of his il

lustrious companionship . We are explicitly told at the end of

the epilogue (C 968 ) that the pilgrims“ riden forth hir weye”

—a phrase that is elsewhere used (A 85 6 ) to indicate a

s imilar resumption of the journey after a stop . What infini te zest it adds to the Pardoner ’

s arraignment of tavern

follies to realize that every count of his indictment is pro

nounced amid huge creature-comfort in the joys of an ale

house—the clink of canakins , the laughter of tap wenches ,the rattle of dice, the sound of oaths ! The irony of the

environment is as delicious as the mockery of personalityboth utterly at varian ce with the tenor of the Pardoner ’

s

sentences , so gravely pronoun ced . How much of Chaucer ’s

fun we moderns miss !

The purport of the Pardoner ’s sermonizing is altogether

los t,if we pass over it lightly as

“a long di scussion on the

s ins of swearing, gluttony, dicing and other of the deadly

sins .

” We have double evidence of the s trongest that the

Pardoner is exemplifying only the vices of the tavern . First,

Chaucer, here, as in other Sins tales , derives his application—else no artis t he—di rectly from the substance of his story.

His moralities follow immediately his picture of the tavern ,

that abode of Gluttony in all its phases—drinking , lechery,

The Pardoner’s Tavern 5 5 9

hazardry,and great oaths . In this devil ’s temple his young

folk

pleye at dees bothe day and night,And etc also and drinken over hir might.H ir othes been so grete and so dampnable.

Among them is kindled and blown

the fyr o f lecherye,

That is annexed unto glotonye.

It is significant that in the poet ’s other picture of tavern

revel , the contribution of the wine-bibbing Cook (Adrinking, wenching, dicing, find a large place.

All this is undeniable. Our other evidence, that of tra

dition,needs larger illustration . In accounts of the Deadly

Seven we find that Gluttony in cludes “ Sins of the Tavern ,

and moreover that these sins are the very Vices enumerated

by Chaucer. Langland ’s sketch of Gluttony is a tavern scene

(Piers Plowman, B ,V

,Dan Michel

, in his Ayenbite

of Inwit (pp. following L e Mireour da Monde (pp .

1 70 discusses , under the head of Gluttony,“the zennes

thet byeth ydo ine the taverne, ” and then proceeds much inChaucer ’

s wise :—“The tauerne ys the scole of the dyeule

huere his deciples studieth ,

‘

and his ogene chapele ther huer me

deth his seruese and ther huer he maketh his miracles zuiche

ase bohoueth to the dyeule Ao the dyeuel deth al

ayenward ine the tauerne. Vor huanne the glotoun geth into the tauerne ha geth oprigt ; huanne he comth ayen ,

he ne

heth uot thet him moge sostyeni no bere.

”L ikewise the

anonymous author of Jacob ’s Well9 writes under the caption

,

“De Gula”

(p .

“At the tauerne often the glotonye

begynneth ; for the tauerne is welle of glotonye, for it maybe clepyd the develys scolehous the develys chapel , for therehis dyscyples stodyen syngyn ,

bothe day ni3t, there

the deuyl doth meraclys to his seruantys , etc.

” 1 ° An d Bar

’ Early English Tex t iS’oeiety, 1 1 5

1”Compare Royster, A Middle English Treatise on the Ten Com~

mandments, Introduction , pp. ix-x .

“Devil’s Chapel” is still a potent

phrase on the“temperance” platform .

‘

5 60 Tapper

clay,in the Ship of F ools thus speaks of the S in of Gluttony

The people that are acloyed with this synne,Ou no thynge els theyr myndes wyll aply :

Saue to the wyne and ale stakes to renneAnd there as bestes to stryue and drinke auy.

How then,in the light of medieval perspective, could Chaucer

more accurately illus trate the S in of Gluttony than by a tavern

picture drawn by a tavern reveler seated in the very hour ofhis sermon izing on a tavern bench ?

Moreover the sins assailed by the Pardoner are those con

ventionally associated with Gluttony and the tavern . I havealready demonstrated at sufficient length in my Publicationsarticle (pp . 105 -106 ) that the close relation between Lecheryand Gluttony

,based upon Ephesians V ,

1 8, is a common

place of all medieval descriptions of Gluttony and that,in

many sketches of this S in,the ex emplum of Lot and his

daughters (Genesis X IX ) finds mention . This traditionalrelation is still strong in the Ship of F ools

But namely dronkenn es and wretchyd Glotony

By their excess and superfluyte

Engendreth the rote of cursed L echery.

It was therefore inevitable in the irony of things that the

compan ion S in should be assailed by this typical Glutton who

has“a jolly wench in every town .

” 1 1

The two other acces sories of Gluttony—Hazardry and Blas

phemy—are always closely as sociated in medieval literature.

One of the most famous of all ex empla is that of the unluckydicer who blasphemes the Virgin and loses his eyes .

“ Miss

Petersen 1 3 finds a close parallel to the setting oizthe Pardoner ’

s

Tale in the accoun t by Thomas Cantipratensis of a Brabant

1 1 In the English Moralities wenching is ever associated With the

life o f taverns . In the D igby P lay Mary Magdalene is led by L echeryto a tavern Where she is tempted and falls . In N ature Sensuali tyconducts Man to a tavern and to the society of Margery . In the

Intertade of You th R iot suggests to his victim that they repair tothe tavern for a surfeit of Wine and a kiss from a pretty wench.

12 S ee Herolt, s . v .

“Blasphemia

”; Herbert, Catalogue of R omances ,

III, 360, 608, 624, 648 , 665 .

The S ources of the N onne Prestes Tale, p. 98 .


5 62 Tapper

How could a medi eval poet better illustrate the Sin of

Gluttony than by due dis cussion of each of its traditionalphases or accessories ? There is nothing confused or heterogeneous in the Pardoner

’s summary of sins in the application

at the clos e of his tale (0 895 It is an orderly expo

sition in the true ex emplum manner of the two Deadly Sins

illustrated by his story and by his own practice and assailed in

his sermons : first, cursed Avarice, that leads to homicide ;then Gluttony and its three accessorles , Luxury, Has ardry

and Blasphemy. Indeed it is as clear-cut as Langland ’s fam

ous feofment (B ,II

,92-93)

Glotonye he gaf hem eke and grete oth es togydere,

And alday to drynke at dyuerse tauernes .

In his use of Deadly Sins material in the Pardoner ’s

moralities , as in his other ex empla of the Vices,Chaucer is

largely indebted to the material of his Parson ’s Tale. This

relation has already been so fully indicated by scholars 1 6

that it need not long detain us . It is interesting that theParson

,like Peraldus , includes Hasardry under Avarice and

Great Oaths under Wrath . This arrangement , however, doesnot debar the poet, when fashioning the Pardoner, from

combin ing Dicing and Swearing in the traditional conception

of the Glutton as a lord of tavern revels and misrule rather

than as a mere s lave of food and drink. Even the Parson,

who unlike Dan Michel , Langland , Bromyard, and Barclay,Views Gluttony in its narrower aspect , recogn izes its close

bond with L echery (I,“for thise two S innes been so ny

cosins that ofte tyme they wol nat departe ;”

and expressly

indicates the tie between Hasardry and Blasphemy (I,“N ow comth hasardrye with hise apurtenances , as tables

and rafles ; of which comth deceite, false othes , chydinges ,

and alle ravines , blaspheminge and reneyinge of God, etc.

”

If the Pardoner ’

s relation to his background has been ignored

,the variance of h is gluttonous practice from his sober

precept disregarded, the tenor of his precept misunderstood ,

so his clash with one of the other pilgrims has been entirely

See Koeppel, Hermy s Archiv, LXX XV I I , pp. 33- 5 4 ; N otes to

Skeat’s edition ; Miss Petersen, S ources of the Parson ’

s Ta le, pas sim ;

my Publica tions article, 105 , 1 1 5 .

The Pardoner’s Tavern 5 63

unapprehended . The reader‘

has only to compare the oathswhich the Pardoner places under the ban (0 65 1 -65 2 )

By Goddes precious herte and by his nayles

And by the hlode of Crist, that it is in Hayles.

with the very recent blasphemy of the Host ’s link between

the tales of the Physician and the Pardoner,“by nayles

and by blood ! ” (0 288 ) and“by Corpus bones (C

in order to recognize that our specious rascal convicts the

Landlord of s in long before he further invites his wrath bysummoning h im to “

kiss e the reliks everichon”(C And

here it is necessary to note that the Host ’s swearing , for which

he is so ready to take up the cudgels against Lollards (B

1 1 72 is typical of his profession . If the tavern is

the breeding-place of oaths,it is inevitable that the taverner

should be an adept in blasphemy . Barclay,in a s ingle line

(I, gives ample evidence that the Host ’s curs ing is tra

ditional,

“ Blasphemers of Christ,hos tlers and taverners .

”

It is of course a s triking feature of the situation that thePardoner himself, professed champion of the Second Commandment

,is a constant offender against its decree : D 1 64

“by God and by Seint John ”

; C 320,“by Seint Ronyon

(where he repeats the oath of the Host ) C 45 7,

“by God

”.

Fortunately ' contemporary interpretation of the character

of the Pardoner is no mere matter of surmise. That heand not the Friar, who

“ knew the tavernes wel in every

toun ”(Prologue, A 240)—was deemed the typical tavern

reveler of the company, fond of both his glass and his lass,

is put beyond all question by the “Prologue of the Merry

Adventure of the Pardoner with a Tapster at Canterbury”,

which prefaces the pseudo-Chaucerian sequel to the Tales,

the Tale of Beryn . N o sooner are the pilgrims installed at

the“Cheker of the Hope”

inn at the cathedral city than thePardoner

“as a man i-lernyd of such kyndnes ” makes warm

The citation by a contemporary, Knighton, Anno 1388 (R olls

S eries, 92, I I , 262 ) of Wyclifiite opinions is not inapposite here : “Itemquod non licet aliquo modo j urare . N ota ibi isti firmandus , namsequela cuj uslibet dioti corum talis erat,

‘I am sykyr, it is soth, ’vel sic,

‘Withoute doute, it is‘

See Trevelyan, England in the

Age of Wychfl'

e, p. 31 7 ; and Arnold, Wyclif’

s Works,I I I

, 332 .

5 64 Tapper

friends with Kit the Tapster, embracing her by the middle,chucking her under the chin and tempting her with a groat .

The outcome of the intrigue is as sorry as anything in Smol

lett . The Pardoner seeks to secure the Tapster for his own ,

but,in the old phrase, he

f ‘drinks without the cup, though

she feigns full consent . After ordering for his newly found

love and himself “a cawdle of wine and sugar” , the Pardoner

returns to the company . L ight-hearted with song,he leaves

them at bedtime and goes in search of his lowly lady . Thenfollows the horse-play. The Pardoner scratches and whinesat the locked door of the Tapster ; but he is soundly thrashedby the Tapster ’

s Paramour , and is chased and chevied by

Jack the Hostler , a creature of Hos t—like oaths . He is finally

forced to lie down in the litter of a great Welsh dog , whichbites him in the thigh . The poor wretch finds nought save

curses to assuage his anger and despair. On the morrow

the unh appy Pardoner washes the blood ofi his cheeks,binds

up his head and rides away s inging in the midst of the

company.

Now whence was this conception of the Pardoner derived ?Certainly not from the General Prologue

,where we hear no

thing of potenti

potting or of amorous adven tures . N or is thisthe hypocritical exponen t of Avarice known to every reader.

This picaro is the gluttonous Pardoner of his prologue and

tale, lickerish , lecherous , blasphemous , unable ever to resist

the lure of ale-stake or of petticoat, bibulously preachingsermons against Gluttony from a tavern -bench .

1 8‘

Moreover

what convincing testimony to the Pardoner ’

s repute in

the company is given by the cry of the gentles (C

when the Host heralds this “noble eccles iaste “

N ay , let

him telle us of no ribaudye !” 1 9 It must be remembered that

1 8 F urnivall has noted, in his Introduction to the Tale of Beryn

(Chaucer S ociety, 1887, Early English Tex t Society, how wellthe anonymous author preserves the traits of Chaucer’s pilgrims .

1 " Indulgence in ribald tales is. yet another trait of medieval Glut

tony. L angland’

s Glutton says of himself (B . V ,

“F or lope of

tales, in tauernes to drynke the more I .di ned, and (C . V II,

“ich

'

fedde me With ale out of reson among rybaudes here rybaudryeto buyre.

”


66 Emerson

WHAT IS THE PARLEMENT OF FOULES ?Professor Manly ’

s article with the above title (MorsbachF estschrift, p . 278 ) is noteworthy, if for no other reason ,

as perhaps the strongest statement possible by a disbelieverin the historical bas is for Chaucer ’

s Parlement of F oules .

L et us see what the most radical skepticism may say against

Koch ’s theory. And first

,putting aside for a time Professor

Manly ’s objections to the accepted symbolism of the poem ,

what does he put in its place ? He does not deny that thepoem was written about the time usually assigned to it. He

admits that the theory is more plausible in its present formthan when originally proposed by Professor Koch . But,

after emphasizing that the poem is of the vis ion type,with

a love debate, or demande d’amours , and that the assembly

of birds was held on Valentine ’s day ,

he proposes as his new

theory that the poem was merely a Valentine day exercisefor some poss ible Valentine society of the time.

Now it may be said at once that no one denies , or need

deny the three points in Professor Manly ’

s analysis of the

poem . It is a Vision poem,it is a love debate, and the time

is Valentine ’s day . N ot one of these things interferes with

the interpretation of the poem now so long and so generally

accepted . Professor Manly has missed the point, or at leas t

has not met i t so far . It is the coincidence in time and many

particulars between Chaucer ’s poem and the incidents of the

royal courtship itself, which makes for the interpretationof Professor Koch . This striking coin cidence Professor Manlyhas not explained away.

Yet there is , apparently, an implication in the suggestionof Chaucer ’

s using well-known conventions , that he could

not have used them for a particular purpose. Now the prac

tice of pointing out the conventional in a work,as if it were

a complete explanation of that work , has'

been'

ridde{very

hard of late years . It has too often been assumed that the use

of a conventional form precluded any origination on'

thepart of the poet, or even adaptation to a particular end.

Th is is neither logical nor complete criticism. There is

What is the Pa/rlemefnt‘

of F oules ? 67

much that is conventional in all poetry, even that of. late

times . But that we have completely eliminated the personality of the poet as anything more than a mere imitator,by the process of finding some indebtedness to others is farfrom true. Or that , if Chaucer in this parti cular case us ed

a conventional form,he could not have applied it to a par

ticular purpose or occasion is of cours e in the last degree

un tenable.

Indeed , if Chaucer had been specifically planning a poem

on the royal courtship , he would naturally have used some

form with which he had previously become acquainted . The

Vis ion form he had already used in another poem of occas ion ,

the Book of the Duchess . He had also used the Valentineday setting in the Complaint of Mars, as Professor Manly

points out here, referring to his article in Harvard S tudi esand Notes V ,

Again,if Chaucer had been planning a poem on the royal

courts hip he would naturally have used the love-debate, s ince

that was inherent in the subject itself. The us e of one or

more of these forms , therefore, does not prove that Chaucer

may not have used them for a particular purpose, as in

shadowing forth an importan t event in English court life.

Again I emphasize the real point , the use of these conventionsat such a time and with so many similarities of incidentthat they . suggest to us

,as they presumably suggested to

hearers of the poem in Chaucer ’s time, a relation to the

courtship of. R ichard and Anne. The most efiective way in

which to overthrow the present theory,would be to show

that the Parlement of F oules was made at some different

1 Yet the lan guage of Professor Manly in the F es tschrrift seems

to imply too much .

“That

.

Chaucer himself took part in the literaryfeatures of such social entertainments is indicated by his Complaint

of Mars, begs the question . Until we have further proof that there

were such literary and social entertainments, they cannot b e used for

purposes of argument. Professor Manly uses the language o f one

who has won his case. All we know of the Complaint of Mars , so

far as this point is concerned, is that Chaucer used the Valentineday setting for his poem, but nothing regarding the occasion o f its

68 Emerson

time, and for some different set of circumstances than thoseusually supposed to be indicated.

Professor Manly makes no attempt to indicate a different

time for the composition of the poem,as was earlier done by

Tyrwhitt , followed by Godwin ,who thought it applied to the

marriage of John of Gaunt in or by a writer in the

Saturday R eview of April 1 5,1 871

, who applied it to the

marriage of Lord De Coucy in If such a time can

be successfully brought forward, we mus t all, give up the

accepted theory. N or does Professor Manly propose a different set of circums tances to which the incidents of the

poem may be in some sense parallel . He merely opposes

altogether any such parallelism . On the other hand he doespropose an occasion which

,he thinks , sufficiently accounts

for the poem,without connecting its incidents wi th contem

porary life.

Yet it must be noted that , if Professor Manly coul d prove

there were literary entertainments in England in honor of

Saint Valentine as early as 1 380 or 1382,he would not yet

have overthrown the theory of Koch , as he seems to think .

There is no reason why,if

,Chaucer had been planning to

write such a Valentine poem about that time, he should not

have chosen as subject the royal (courtship,then in every

body ’s mind . That is

,Professor Manly has proposed in

his hypothesis only a new occas ion for the delivery of sucha poem. In so doing

,however

,he has not provided any new

in terpretation of the poem which precludes its reference

to the circumstances usually supposed to be symbolized . In

a similar way the Complaint of Mars may have been intendedas a literary feature of

"

such a social entertainmen t as Pro

fessor Manly thinks possible some score of years before itis known to have been in existence. Yet this would not

2 Tyrwhitt’s note is in Append ix to his Preface, C , note e . Godwin

discusses the subj ect in his L ife of Chaucer, eh . xxi (vol . I I, p.

8 See F urnivall’

s Tria l F orewords , p. 70. That Tyrwhitt, as earlyas the late seventies of the eighteenth century, first connected the

Parlemen t of F ou les with an important marriage in England is sign ificant

indication of the appeal made by the poem’s symbolism.


5 70 Emerson

But ProfessorManly urges some special objections to Koch ’s

theory which mus t be examined .

“To whom”

,he asks

,

“was

the poem intended as a compliment ? To R ichard,or Anne

,

or both ? The critics are in general not specific on thispoint . He then argues that , if written after Anne ’

s arrivalin England, the poem was not complimentary to her . If

wri tten before, it was not complimentary to R ichard . These

objections seem to me greatly magnified, if indeed «they have

any foundation . Frankly, I take it the critics have not been“specific on this point” because they have not thought it

necessary. N or can it be regarded as necessary except by

great emphasis on extremely minor details .

In fact , Profes sor Manly ’s premi se that the poem is un

complimentary in its present form to either or both of the

royal personages res ts , it seems to me, on no solid basis . That

Chaucer might have made it more flattering to either or bothis doubtless true. Why he did not do this we shall perhapsnever know. But that these young people

,not quite “ chil

dren ”in any real sense, would not have enjoyed this beautiful

poem,as others must have enjoyed it, seems to me impossible.

N either R ichard nor Anne was likely to find faul t with suchconsummate artistry . N either would have thought of dis

secting it minutely, to see whether it sufficiently fitted his

particular case.

But Professor Manly thinks Anne woul d have been ofiended

that she is represented as“undecided in her choice”

,or

“unable to decide.

” Such expressions,however , are quite

too strong for the case. The formel eagle is represented as ask

ing what all young ladi es were supposed to desire, or whatthey were conventionally supposed to demand, the year of“ respite for to avysen me.

”The bes t evidence that this

could not have been derogatory to Anne is found when we

compare the situation here with that in another of Chaucer ’s

poems . In the Book of the Duchess, Blanche of Lancaster

is represented as putting off her princely lover for a similarperiod. The first offer of marriage by a prince of the realm

was quite as desirable for the daughter of Henry of Dancas

ter, as was that of R ichard for Anne, considering the latter ’s

What is the Pa/rlement of F oules ? 5 71

other offers at the time. Yet it was only when John of

Gaunt renewed his proposal “another yere”

(1 1 25 8 ) that

Blanche gave him “the noble yift of hir mercy The paral

lel is even more favorable to Anne. The man in blak

tells the story of an absolute rejection . The formel eagle

merely asks time to reflect.

5

Again,in his development of a supposed dilemma

,Pro

fessor Man ly thinks that , if the poem had been writtenbefore Anne ’

s arrival in England,it must have been intended

as a compliment to R ichard .

6 In this he believes it fails

because the young king was not immediately preferred to his

rivals . This rivalry Professor Manly minimizes by callingFriedrich an

“insignificant the young

Charles nostre adversaire instead of heir to the Frenchthrone. However no one will {be misled by this clever use of

names . Friedrich of Meissen was originally cons idered a

worthy match for Anne of Bohemia,7 and the heir to the

French throne was certainly so. In any case the rivalry wasa real one for R ichard

,and it was only a combination of

circumstances , political and religious , which finally turned

5 It matters little whether the allusion in the Book of the Duchess

is based on fact or not. The use o f it by Chaucer made it publicproperty, and the reference to it in the poem by the lover himself showsthat he di d not regard it as a slight.

6 To one statement of Professor Manly a footnote seems sufficient.

He says : “If the poem was written before Anne’

s arrival in England,

in December 1 381 , it is difficult to see how it can have been intendedfor her. She could not have known of it unless Chaucer had sent it

to her in Bohemia, and this, while possible, is hi ghly improbable.

”

Is it impossible that the poem could not have been written in anticipatiou of Anne

’s coming, and have been read or recited on her arrival

in England ? Compare the similar situation in the writing of Dunbar’s

Tkis set and R ose, to which I later call attention.

" In a footnote to p. 280 Professor Manly seems to imply that I

had made too much of F riedrich’s after greatness . That was not

my intention, but the implied slight to the young prince as a suitormay be easily answered . He was thought worthy of Anne, not as an

“ins ignificant princeling”, but as heir to an important German princ ipal ity, and as what he was likely to become . The kinsmen of Anne

could not have been entirely blind to their own or her advantage.

5 72 Emerson

the'

s cale in his favor .

8 Bes ides , R ichard mus t by this time

have become somewhat accustomed to meeting obs tacles to’

his marriage. N egotiations for -a marriage with Princess

Mary of France had twice come to nought,

9and at leas t

two other matches for him had been proposed and put as idefor vari ous reasons .

1 0 It is inconceivable that R ichard should

not have known of these things,and certainly they were

known to the courtiers who heard the poem read or recited .

Had Chaucer therefore tried to minimi ze the rivalry,in

order to flatter R ichard,he would not only have been untrue

to , the facts , but would have been in danger of renderinghis effort at sychophancy ridiculous .

Even if this were not so , does not Professor Manly greatly

magnify the young R ichard ’s feelings ‘

.2 The marriage of

a prince is a conventional matter at best . R ichard especiallywas too young to take the maturer interest of a man deeply

in love, and must have looked on the various stages of the

negotiations with curious rather than passionate eyes . When ,

too, the young bride did arrive, he was quite too much

pleased and satisfied, to care whether a pretty poem that

seems to refer to his afiairs had put everything exactly to

his liking .

But apart from these suggestions in refutation of, Professor

Manly ’s objections

,is the poem uncomplimentary to either

of the royal personages ? I put as ide for the present the

question why Chaucer did not represent the success ful con

elus ion of the courtship . Taking into account only what wasattempted on the accepted theory, why is the poem un

complimentary to either R ichard or Anne ?

As to R ichard, the“ royal tercel” of the usual interpre

tation,he is given the first choice of a mate ; he is affection

ately called sone” by the pres iding goddess N ature,

8 This has been made plain , I think , in my two,

articles, with theirnumerous references to documents of the time : A N ew N ote on the Date

of the Kn ight’

s Tale, Hart anniversary volume , p. 203 ; and the

Su itors in Chau cer’s Parlement of F ou les , already referred to.

9 F roissart , Chroniques (De L ettenhove ) VIII , 383, 385 ; Longmaps,L ife and Times of Edward Third

,I I, 27lf. ; Skeat’

s Chaucer, I, xxvii.1 ° F roissart, Chroniques , IX, 2 12 .


5 74 Emerson

conventional to make her , choice so quickly. Especially thefact that Nature and the whole bird family take the con

clusion as entirely right—it was utterly at variance withwhat could happen in bird life—mus t indi cate that it was notintended in any sense to show a vacillating character inAnne of Bohemia. It is Professor Manly only

,so far as I

now remember, who feels any dissatisfaction for the formel

eagle, or any doubt as to what she really wished to do—at

the proper time.

1 1

I would press thi s las t matter one point further . If

the bird parliament is nothing more,as Professor Manly

supposes , why this introduction of a convention—the putting06 of the lover for a time—never known in the realm of an imal

li fe, but characteristic of human marriage arrangements in

the period of Chaucer ’s Parlement of F oules ? What is the

meaning on Professor Manly ’s hypothesis of thi s vital ele

ment of the poem ? Indeed, is not the conclus ion on his bas is

far more lame, than he thinks it on the accepted theory ?Another objection is urged by Professor Manly in thesewords

Some stress has been laid upon the accuracy with Which the des

criptions of the suitors in the poem fit the three candidates . Thisappearance of accuracy is obtained by emphasizing certain phas es of

the situation and disregarding others . If the poem be taken not

seriously, as an intended compliment to R ichard and Anne, but as a

bit of merriment intended to amuse the adults at the expense of theseroyal children, the descriptions fit well enough. But if this is the

case, the poem is not a compliment to R ichard and Anne, but makes

sport of them.

It will be seen from this second use of it that Profes sorManly is fond of the logical dilemma. Nor will anyone

object to his putting the best face possible on the case.

Granting the premises on which he rests the dilemma argu

ment , the case is his . But are the premises sound ?

Now I have tried to show—I purpos ely avoid the special1 1 Even the late Henry Morley accepted the symbolic character of

the poem, though he preferred to go back to Tyrwhitt’s long discarded

hypothesis as to the occasion intended. V on Westenholz (Anglia, Bei

bla tt X II, 1 67 ) can hardly be classed here, though as early as 1 901

he suggested a mild skepticism regarding Koch ’s theory.

What is the Parlement of F oules ? 5 7 5

pleader ’s

“I have shown too much used of. late 1 2 -that

Professor Manly has taken quite too seriously the first hornof his argument. I cannot believe that the poem can be

reasonably regarded as uncomplimentary to the royal loversof 1380 and 1381 . Yet has the other horn of the dilemma

a mixed figure seems absolutely necessary—any firmer foun

dation ? It largely res ts on a miscons truction of a part of

my paper on the Suitors in the Parlement of F oules . When

the discovery was made that another suitor might bettertake the place of the Prince of Bavaria in Koch ’

s earlierinterpretation ,

it was natural to see whether the ‘

new claimantwould fit into the speeches assigned by Chaucer to the threetercel eagles . If no fit place had been found for him‘ there,it would have been an argument against admi tting Charles

of France as one of the suitors . It was with some pleasure,I admit

,that I found the parallelism between the speeches

and certain known facts to be more considerable than theyhad been in the older form of the theory . Yet I cannotbelieve that these coincidences were too much magnified in

this conservative statementIt mus t be admitted that the notes of time in the speeches

of the last two suitors have significant parallelism in

12 It may be permi ssible in this connection to call attention to Pro

fessor Manly’s use of this expression in the Kittredge Anwiversary

Papers . In his article What is Chaucer’s H ous e of F ame, he says :

“N either the Boke of the Dachesse nor the L egend of Good Women

has the slightest claim to be regarded as allegorical ; and the Parlementof F ou les , as I have recently shown (Morsbach F es tschrift) is a Valentine poem, presenting a demande d

’

amowrs in the setting of a birdparliament.I agree entirely that allegory and allegorical are often too loosely

used. But they are so used by very good critics- see L egouis’s chapter

on the A llegorical Poems of Chaucer—and Profes sor Manly’s state

ment is far too strong. Besides, if he also means by his sentence thathe

“has shown”the Parlement of F ou les is not allegorical in the accepted

sense , more accurately a poem of occasion, he is himself using languagesomewhat unwarrantedly, it seems to me. I have in mind the wordsof Professor Kittredge in his Chaucer

’

s‘A lces te (Mod. Phil. VI , 435 )

that “when a particular suggestion of this kind has been put into type,it becomes a kind of dogma.

5 76 Emerson

the long betrothal of Friedrich of Meissen,and the short

period during which Charles VI was cons idered a suitor .

” 1 3

But Professor Manly charges that the parallelism is ob

tained by emphas izing certain phases of the s ituation and

di sregarding others . The specific instance to which he points

(see his footnote 1 to p . 281 ) is due to an entire misunder

s tanding of one of my footnotes to the“ Suitors ”

article.

1 4

I had thought the suggestion there put had sufi cient clearness

not to be wholly missed , and sufficient delicacy not to offend .

It amoun ts to nothing in the argument,was not stressed as

a part of it,and may be wholly disregarded without injuring

the case. That Professor Manly has so completely misunderstood its import almost makes me regret using it. But he

should hardly have as sumed that I knew so little of fourteenth

century his tory as to believe R ichard was considerably moreimportant in the affairs of England

,than Charles VI in

those of France,or any less

“ helpless in the hands of his

uncles .

”I referred to a quite difierent kind of

“ prowess .

”

Again Professor Manly seems to criticise my reference to

what he cal ls “two equally good explanations of the

‘ half a

yere ’of line 47 His criticism might be j ustified, perhaps ,

if I had asserted that! the“ half a yere must apply to one

or the other of these periods . Even that might be poss ible

if we knew to a day the time of Chaucer ’s writing the poem.

But I had no idea of anything so minute, and I have prefaced the discuss ion oi. the speech of the third tercel eagle

by the sentence : “I recognize that we must not try to see too

much,and the main point is made in emphas izing the rivalry

of Charles VI and R ichard II.

” Further the discussion is

closed,not by stressing these matters

,but by again resting

the case on the aptness of the! parallelism in the time refer

ences of the las t two speeches .

Professor Manly objects also to applying certain lines of

the poem ( 5 48- 5 1 ) to R ichard, since he was too young to be“worthieste of kn ighthode

”and so

“sittingest for hi r . It

is di fficult to be serious with this sort of objection . Even

1“Modern Philology VIII , 5 8 .

Modern Philology VIII, 5 8, footnote 3.


78 Emerson

an impossible metaphor as blind mouths . Or s till again ,

how ludicrous , as good Doctor Johnson pointed out, for Grayto ask Father Thames to tell him the names of the youngsters

who sported on his banks at Eton . As the wise critic said,

Father Thames had “no better means of knowing than him

self. ”If Professor Manly press es so hard the allusion to

Richard II in the Parlement of F oules, he must have great

difficulty with many passages in English poetry .

But the main difficulty with Chaucer ’

s Parlemeh t of F oules

as a poem of historical reference,a difficulty which all must

feel at times, is its conclusion . This is really at the basis of

Professor Manly ’s contentions . Why did not Chaucer carry

the royal courtship to what would seem to us a more satis

factory close in the full acceptance of R ichard by Anne, or

even ,if he wrote so late, in a description of the royal mar

riage ?1 6 I do not flatter myself that I can answer the ques

tion satisfactorily,but I may point out its relation to the

controversy. That Chaucer did not complete the poem as

we should have supposed he would,or might have done,

does not invalidate the many resemblances between it and

actual events of the time. Wei may wonder that he did not

go a step further,but that need not take from our admi

ration that he went so far .

On the basis of such criticism as Professor Manly ’s we

might make difficulties with a good many other poems . Whocan explain

,for example

,why Chaucer chose to write a poem

on the death of Blanche of Lancaster, rather than on Queen

Philippa who died a month before and was so much more

important to England ? On most if not al l grounds Chaucer,

had the feelings of a man,ruling in person a great kingdom. Besides ,

instead of refuting my main argument, Professor Manly has again

chosen to Oppose a quite minor point in my article .

1 ° Professor L ounsbury (S tudies in Chau cer I II , 321 ) is satisfied withattributing the conclusion as it stands to imperfect art. Coupling thepoem with the Book of the Duchessh he says : There is a sense of in

completeness about the two poems which detracts from their perfectionas works of art.

”L ater, (p. he speaks o f them as terminating

“so abruptly as well as so tamely that it can be fairly said of themthat they are broken off rather than ended .

”

What is the Parlement of F oules ? 5 79

a squire in the household of the king, a man looking foradvancement through personal favor—the only means of ad

vancement in his time—would certainly have seen the greater

Opportun ity. Yet it would be foolish to deny that the Bookof the Duchess does refer to Blanche of Lancas ter, because

a sens ible poet woul d have preferred Queen Philippa as a

subject for his elegy . Or would it be reasonable to deny

that the “man in blak can be John of Gaun t,because he

could not have been pleased with a proclamation to the/world

that Blanche of Lan caster,merely a subject of his royal

father, had refused his proffers as a lover for a full year ?

Similar examples might be found in every period of our

literature.

Such analogies merely point the possibility of Chaucer ’s

having a reason that seemed good to him,for doing what

seems not wholly clear to us . Ou the other hand, might itnot be contended with much

‘

force that the close of the

Parlement of F oules was not unsatisfactory for the time.

The year of respite asked by the formel eagle, and thoughtby Professor Manly to be derogatory to R ichard , was commonenough . If it was more commonly a sending of the lover

on some expedition to prove his worth , as described by Gowerin the Confessio

'

Amantis (IV ,it is to An ne ’

s credit

that she required no such sacrifice. But that such putting offof the lover could not have been regarded as a slight

,should

be clear from Chaucer ’s use of it in the Book of the Duchess ,

already mentioned . Besides,we have a parallel to the maid

enly modesty of Anne in the maidenly modes ty of Emelye

of the Knight’s Tale, as she prays in the temple of Diana.

Moreover , the conclusion was accepted without a murmurby all the characters of the poem. The tercel eagles who

were only too willing to engage in combat for their love, asshown by one of the most dramatic bits of the poem (1 .

have no word of complaint . As already noted this is inconceivable in the conduct of birds

,if birds only are meant.

Yet the eagles , who have been so passionate in their first

1 1 See the references given by Skeatp Chaxacer’

s Works I, 48 5 .

5 80 Emerson

speeches , receive the decis ion without objection , and seem

wholly content with N ature ’

s,

A yeer is not so longe to endure.

In the same way the other birds,who had been only too

ready to jangle and waste their time in profitless discussionwhen given a chance—how delightfully Chaucer makes it giveus pleasure as we hear them

A ssented were to this conclus ioun .

Now I submit that what is represented as so wholly satisfactory to the characters of. the poem , so wholly satisfactoryto the poet himself we must assume, could not have beenwholly unsatisfactory to hearers or readers at the time. We

must not condemn the conclus ion of a work,otherwise so

charming, simply because we cannot wholly understand its

relation to the plot . Moreover,if the poem otherwise suits

so admirably a symbolic represen tation of the royal courtship ,we may not deny its symbolism in other respects because wecannot fully appreciate the relation of its conclusion to the

series of historical circums tances . Indeed,the full accep

tance of the conclusion by all most intimately concernedstrengthens , rather than weakens , the symbolic interpretationwhich so long has been placed on this beautiful poem .

One word further may be added . It is well known that

Dunbar wrote his Thissel and the Rose in imitation of Chau

cer ’s Parlement of F oules . In it Dame N ature presides over

beasts , birds and flowers , and appoints the lion , eagle and

thistle as king of each class of living things . Then she

crowns the Rose as Thistle ’s queen . The occasion of the

poem is known to have been the marri age, August 8 , 1 5 03, of

James IV with Margaret , eldest daughter of Henry VII of

England . But Dunbar wrote in the preceding May , as he

tells us in the las t line of the poem,and the imagery is wholly

of that period . Now I do not mean to suggest that Dunbarmust have imitated Chaucer ’

s poem because he had heard it

had been written for a s imi lar occasion ,though there may be

something even in that . Chaucerian imitation in Scotlandbegan within a quarter century of Chaucer ’

s death , and

Chaucerian tradition may have been accurately preserved in


Emerson

to F ortune is addressed to the English princes , probably theuncles of the king, whatever be the interpretation of the

beste trend of that poem . Lack of S teadfastness is directedto a prince, usually supposed to have been R ichard hims elf

,

at some crisis of his affairs . The poems To S cogan, To Bahtoa

are to friends of the poet , the first playful,the second bearing

upon court influence which Chaucer hoped might be exerted

in his behalf. The envoy to the Complaint of Venus is

directed to a princess at least,perhaps Isabel of York

,and it

also mentions by name a contemporary French poet knownand honored in England . The Coernplaih t to his Purse is an

appeal to the new king of England, who heeded the witty

request of the aged poet and bestowed a fitting reward . Even

Adam Scriveyn is embalmed to an immortality he would

doubtless have preferred to escape. And just the other dayit seems to have been shown that Chaucer ’

s incomparableTruth is not of mere general nature, but was dedicated in

its envoy to a nobleman of England, who must also have been

Chaucer ’

s friend .

What more reasonable, therefore, as following a practicecharacteristic of the great poet, that the Parlement of F oules

should have had its occas ion in one of the most interestingincidents in the life of Chaucer ’

s king and qu een .

OLIVER FARRAR EMERSONWestern R eserve University .

Imaginatif in Piers Plowman 5 83

IMAGINATIF IN PIERS PLOWMAN

Those who are interested in the history of the word imagination should not overlook the character , Imaginatif , who speaks

at length in Piers Plowman . If,dissatisfied with Professor

Skeat ’s brief note—“

By ymaginatif is represented what we

should call Imagination or Fan cy”—the curious should turn

to medie val psychology as it took shape under Platon ic , neo

Platon ic,and Artistotelian influences , they would find them

selves in touch with ideas and systems of great significance

in the history of human thought and indispensable to an under

stan ding of mediaeval allegory . More particularly, they would

see the character in Piers Plowman in its true light.

This character, it will be remembered , is a spokesman for

Reason as a faculty consecrated to the service of God . He

has often moved the poet to think of the end of life— (B . X II,

4 ) to prepare hims elf agains t the wrath to come. More thanthat

,it is Imagination that recommends an accommodation

of Kynde Witte to Clergye. In a chiastic line he writesClergye and Kynde Witte comth of si3te and techynge.

And further down :

Of quod seimas cometh clergye and connynge of hevene

and of quod vidmas cometh kynde witte of s igte of dy

verse peple.

But this natural wit— this wit of bodily knowingl— is near

akin to the quod seimas of clergy, to the“connynge of

bey ene”

.

“F or-thi I conseille the for Cristes sake. Clergye that

thow lovyeF or Kynde Witte is of his kyn and neighe cosynes botheto owre lorde

,leve me for-thi love hem,

I rede

1 In the Promptori/um Parvu lorwm (E . E . T. S . ed. 001. 5 31 ) we find

wytte of’

unders tondynge glossed by ingenium; wytte of bodely know

ynge, by s ensus . In Chaucer’s Boethius wi t regularly translates the

L atin s ensus . Compare the following pas sage alluded to later on :

Ipsum quoque hominem aliter sensus aliter imaginatiO'

aliter ratio aliterintelligentia contuetur . (De Consolatione. Bk. V ,

Prose IV, 79

Chaucer translates this : And the man himself otherweys wit beholdethhim, and otherweys imaginacioun, and otherweys resoun, and otherweys

intelligence .

Jones

F or bothe ben as mi roures to amenden owre defautes ,And lederes for lewed men and for lettred bothe. (B-text )Both Kind Wit and Clergy , then ,

aid us in our ascent toGod. But a kind-witted man without Clergy is like a blind

man in battle. Unless clerks help him th is man “for all

his kind wits ” cannot be saved . Elsewhere Imaginatif speaksas one who knows about future rewards and punishments ,

-of the thief at the crucifix ion, (B . X II

,1 96 ii . ) of Jews ,

of Saracens (B . X II,278 ft ) ; and he makes very clear the

distinction between mere secular curiosity about the natural

world and the use of its phenomena as s imilitudes of spiritualtruth (B . X II

,236 ft ) . To sum up,

it appears that Imaginatif is not only the spokesman of Reason but is gifted witha Vision of j oy and sorrow to come

,and is entitled to speak of

the relation of Kind Wit and Clergy, and the uses to whichin our spiritual education we should put the images , thephenomena, of the physical world.

Now these characteristics of Imaginatif are clearly ao

counted for by mediaeval Christian psychology. The detailsare obvious in a twelfth century allegory by R ichard of St.

Victor, that was translated into English in the fourteenthcen tury .

2 This treatise,the Benjamin Minor, presents Ben

jamin—adolescentulus in mentis ex cessu—as the embodi

ment of the highest stage of mys tic contemplation , and ao

commodates to this symbolism the whole family of Jacob withthe result that the growth of that family is made to typifythe progress of the human soul along the mystic way . Jacobis God his wives

,Leah and Rachel , are respectively Afiection

and Reason ; Zilpah , Jacob ’

s con cubine and L eah ’

s maid is

Sensuality ; his other concubine,Bilhah

,who is Rachel ’s

maid,is Imagination . The sons of Jacob and Leah are Dread

of Pain (Reuben ) , Sorrow of S in (Simeon ) , Hope of F or

giveness (Levi ) , Love of R ighteousness (Judah ) , Joy in In

ward Sweetness (Issachar ) , Hatred of S in (Zebulum) , Or

dained Shame (Dinah ) . The sons of Jacob and Zilpah are

abstinence (Gad ) and Patience (Asher ) . The sons of Jacob

”Patrologia, 1 96 , Iff. Horstman, R ichard R olle of H ampole, I,

162 if . The Cell of S elf-knowledge, with introduction and}notes by Ed

mund G . Gardner (London and N ew York, 3 fi’.


5 86 Jones

eye of contemplation in ghostly things ? F or why,a soul that

is yet rude and fieshly , knoweth nought but bodily things,

and nothing cometh yet to the mind but only seeable things .

And,nevertheless , yet it looketh inward as it may ; and that

that it may not see yet clearly by ghostly knowing it thinkethby imag ination . And this is the cause why Rachel had first

children of her maiden than of herself . And so it is that,

though all a man ’s soul may not yet get the light of ghostly

knowing in the reason , yet it thinketh it sweet to hold themind on God and ghostly things in the imagination ”

.

“Without imagination ”

,says R ichard in the Prologue to the Ben

jamin Minor,

“ reason may not know”. From the above it

is perfectly clear that Imagination ,the maid of Reason

,with

the“two beholdings ”

for her children,bearing children be

fore her mi stress but after L eah (Affection ) , is the same

Imagination who took the dreamer of Piers Plowman in

charge after the confession of the Deadly Sins and after he

had impatiently sought to know by reason alone.

5

This imagination,to be traced to the Aristotelian eavrao

'

za,

played a prominent r6le in s cholastic psychology from the

time of Augustine. Its function was that of recording theimages of the phenomenal world, not simply of noting butof retaining the multiple messages that come through the

channels of the several s enses to the unifying sensus com

munis .

7 The cella fantas tica was the repository of its recordsas the cella rationalis was the abode of the higher facul ty .

8

“The opening pas sus of Piers Plowman in its transition from the

theme of conversion to that of R eason—with her associates, Wit, Study,etc., and her sponsor, Imagination—follows then the way of mystic discipline . It is interesting to note that the dreamer goes off with A ctiva

V ita after R eason is discredited .

F reudenthal, Ueber den Begr ifi'

des Wortes Q aw aoia bei Aristoteles,Gottingen, 1 863 . Grote, Aristotle, II, 2 1 1 fi

‘

. L utz, Die PsychologieBonaventuras, Mun ster, 1 909, (Beitrage zur Geschichte der Philosophiedes Mittelalters , V I) . Mignon, L es Origines de L a Scolastique, I, p. 1 13.

7 L utz , op. cit. p. 97.

In connection with that detail of R ichard’s allegory which represents

the children of Imagination as Vision of Joy to Come and Vision .o f

Sorrow to Come we might note what Bonaventura says in the Itinerarium(Chap . I I I ) about Memory, which is often synonymous with ImaginationOperatio autem memoriae est retentio et representatio, non solum prae

Imaginatif in Piers Plowman 5 87

From all this it is clear that imagination was often equivalentto memory. But the point to be noted here is that in mediaeval psychology imagination was not only a facul ty of lowergrade than reason but that in man ’

s mental processes and

the growth of his mind it mediated between the world of

senses and the intellectual world .

The r61e of Imagination and its relation to Reason , set forth

in a conveniently clear-cut manner in Richard of St. Victor ’s

Benj amin Minor, receive more broadly philosophical treatment in the same writer ’

s Benj amin Maj or .

9 There we havedistinguished six kinds of contemplation :

1 ° 1 . In imaginatione

et secundum solam imaginationem. 2 . In imaginatione se

cundum rationem. 3. In ratione secundum imaginationem.

4. In ratione et secundum rationem . 5 . Supra sed non praeter

rationem . 6 Supra rationem et videtur esse praeter rationem.

In connection with Imaginatif ’s discouragement of scientific

curiosity and debate (B . X II,21 7 fi. ) we may note the fol

lowing explanation of the first kind of contemplationTunc autem contemplatio nostra in imaginatione versatur,

et secundum solam imaginationem formatur, quando nihilargumen tando quaerimus vel ratiocinando investigamus ; sed

libera mens nostra huc illucque discurrit, quo etiam in hoc

spectaculorum genere adm'

iratio rapit.

That R ichard,as we should have supposed, has drawn his

psychology from his master Hugo of St. Victor becomes interestingly clear in Dr. Ostler

’s excellent study of the latter ’

s

system.

1 1 Dr. Ostler, moreover, traces the details of the psychology through the mazes of patristic speculation . Among

other things he makes clear the essential s imilarity betweenthe psychology of the Victorine and the following passage inthe De Consolatione Philosophiae A man himself is dif

sentium, corporalium, et temporalium, verum etiam succedentium, simplicium et sempiternalium . Retinet namque memoria prae terita per

recordationem, praesentia per susceptionem, futura per praevisionem.

“Migne, 196, 63 ff.1° 0p. cit. Oh. V I.

Ostler, Heinrich, Die Psychologie desQH/ago oon S t. Viktor, Munster,1906 (Beitrage zur Geschichte des Philosophie des Mittelalters, BandV I, Heft.

5 88 Jones

ferently comprehended by the senses,by imagination,

by

reason ,and by intelligence. F or the senses distinguish the

form as s et in the matter operated upon by the form ; imagination di stinguishes the appearan ce alone without the matter . Reason goes even further than imagination ; by a generaland un iversal contemplation it investigates the actual kind

which is represented in individual specimens . Higher still

is the view of the in telligence,which reaches above the sphere

of the un iversal , and with the unsul lied eye of the mind gazes

upon that very form of the kind in its absolute simplicity .

”

Similar accounts are given by St. Augus tine in De Anima

et ej us Origine, by William of St. Thierry, Isaac of Stella,Alcher of Clairvaux and Peter of Poitiers .

1 2 Bonaventura

too, in the Itinerarium Mentis ad. Deum,having divided

the soul into S ensualitas , Spiritus, and Mens,attributes to

S ensualitas , sensus and imaginatio and to Spiritus, ratio and

intellectus . Throughout we find the Imagination—whatHobbes calls “

the decaying sense” —mediating as the charac

ter in Piers Plowman between the senses and the reason .

And this is,of course

,the place of imagination ,

cpavmc ia,

in the Aristotelian psychology as set forth in the De Anima.

Distingui shing between the reproductive and the productive

imagination ,Aris totle in each cas e cons iders the facul ty a

function of the bodi ly organism and di rectly dependent upon

sense perceptions . On the other hand, its operations are

sufficiently s imilar to and closely enough connected with thoseof reason to jus tify our consideration of it as an intermediate

faculty. Imagination is essential to the operation of. the noetic

soul,just as the senses are necessary to the imagination .

Ari stotle uses express ions that are very closely paralleled in

a sentence already quoted from R ichard of St. Victor—“Without imagination reason cannot know ’

Aristotle says : 060é7r0'

cs

vosi éivsu eavré caat og in00x 13. (De Anima, VII, p . 431,a. 1 6 )

and vos iv 06m5 0e o’

ivev ow ré cuat og. (De Memoria et Reminis

cent. ) 1 , pp . 449,

H . S . V . JON ES .

” Ostler, op. cit. 1 1 9 fi'

.

“Quoted by Grote, op. cit , p. 21 1 .


5 90 Craig

but even there actual translation is not probable.

3 It is far

more likely that we have back of this parallelism a some

what extens ive Latin play . I have suggested that the cor

rupt and imperfect Benedictbeuern Christmas play is of the

same type and composition as one of the forerunners of the

Chester plays f" The French employed in the Chester cycle

and others does'

not point to a French original,but to its

deliberate use on the part of the wri ters of the plays with

intent to caricature persons of high estate ; such as Pilateand Herod . England had the same liturgical inheritance as

had France, Germany, and Italy ; but, allowing for that , thedramas preserved are surprisingly national

, or rather local,

in their characteristics . They passed from Latin to Englishby a method of repeating and amplifying the Latin texts

in the vernacular. There are examples of this in the religiousdramas of all countries .

5

Another matter that has been emerging into clearness isthat the Corpus Christi play, as we know it in the four full

cycles,the fragments of lost cycles and in the records , oc

cupied a comparatively restricted area and was a separate

dramatic form with certain definite characteristics . Corpus

Christi plays seem to have belonged mainly to the north and

east of England . There were plays of the Corpus Christitype at N ewcastle

,Kendall , Preston ,

Beverley, York , Chester,L incoln

,Louth , Norwick, Ipswich , Coventry , Worcester ; and

more doubtfully , at about as many more places . There was

a process ion and,almost certainly plays also

,at Dublin ; and

also, no doubt , at some places in Scotland. Corpus Christiplays are by no means the only plays on biblical subjects inEngland . In fact dramatic activities were much more variedthan the current histories of the religious drama indicate.

H Ungemacht, D ie Qaellen der funf ers ten Ches ter Plays ; Hemingway, E ng lish N ativity Plays , pp. xxiv ii ., 2 17 it . To the parallels pointedout by these writers add also the very s ignificant one of the Balaam playin the Mystere, which follows, as at Chester, immediately after thescene of Moses and the Tables of the L aw.

4 The Origin of the Old Tes tament Plays , Modern Philology , x . ,486-7 .

5 Chambers , 69 iii ; Creizenach , i . , 100 ii . See a particularly goodexample of this transitional stage in the Shrewsbury F ragments, Manly,Specimens of the Pre-Shakspearean Dra/ma, i. , pp. x x vu ii .

The Corpus Christi Procession and Play 5 91

The histories are based upon the records of the Corpus Christiplays , which are many times more numerous and extens ivethan the records of other plays .

In order to arrive at some sort of classification of the plays

on religious subjects , it is necessary to recognize the Corpus

Chri s ti plays as a separate class .

First of all, in the matter of terminology , Corpus Christiplay”

is used dozens of times , and used discriminately to

denote the type of play we have in mind . Consider a few of

the more familiar references :Heywood , The F oa re PP . 831“Oft in the play of Corpus Cristi

He had played the deuyl] at Couentre.

The C’ Mery Talys , lvi“Yf you beleue not me, then for a more sue

’rte and sufl‘

ycient

auctoryte, go your way to Couentre , and there ye shal se them all

playd in Corpus Christi playe .

”

N ewcastle-on-Tyne, fifteenth century craft ordinaries z"

“Whensoever the generall plaies of the town of N ewcastle, antientlycalled the Corpus Christi plays , shall be plaied, etc.

”

Weever’s F uneral Monuments, F olio, p.

“R ichard Marlow was L ord Maior [of London ] in 1 409 in whose

Maioraltie there was a play at Skinners Hall, which lasted eight dayes(saith Stow ) to heare which most of the greatest E states of Englandwere present. The subj ect o f the sacred S criptures , from the creationof the World : They call this Corpus Christi Play in my countrey whichI have seene acted

"

at Preston, and L ancaster, and last of all at Kendall,in the beginning of the raigne .of King James ; for which the Townsmen were sore troubled ; and upon good reasons the play finally supprest, not onely there, but in all other Townes of the Kingdome.

”

Weever was from the north and was born in Lancas hirein 1 5 76 . He wrote about 1 631

,and he seems to recognize that

the Corpus Christi play was a northern rather than a southern

institution .

So definite was the term that even when ,as at some places ,

the play was no longer acted as Corpus Christi , it was stillreferred to as a Corpus Christi play. At Chester

,where the

plays were acted atWhitsuntide, the Bakers

’ Charter in 1462speaks of the

“ play and light of Corpus Christi ;” the Sad

dlers’Charter in 1471 of

“ paginae luminis et ludi CorporisChristi . These references may or may not be after the

transference of the plays to Whitsuntide,but references of

Quoted by Chambers, ii., 385 .

7Quotation derived from Sharpe, D issertation ,

133.

5 92 Craig

the s ixteenth cen tury make it clear that they were always

known by their old name. The“White Book ”

about 1 5 44

speaks of“

pagyns in the play of Corpus X pi .” 8 From N or

wich, where likewise the plays were at Whitsuntide,comes

the jocular reference by J Whetley in a letter to Sir JohnPaston9 of Lord Sufiolk how “

ther was never no man that

playd Herrod in Corpus Christy play better and more agre

able to hys pageaunt than he did . Finally,there is an entry

from L incoln at the time of the Marian reaction . The Cor

poration Register for July 6, 1 5 5 4, contains this entry :‘Agreed

at a Secret Council that St. Anne’

s guild with Corpus Christiplay shall be brought forth and played this year

,and that

every craft shall bring forth their pageants as it hath beenaccustomed, and all occupations shall be contributory as shall

be assessed .

” 10 This is an obvious association of the L incoln

Corpus Christi play with the St. Anne’

s day procession , an

association possible also from the content and nature of the

latter play as revealed by various records .

1 1

On the other hand,where the plays were of another kind,

they seem to have been called by other names . At N ew

Romney in Kent 1 2 there is mention of a“Resurrection ” play

in 145 6 and a play of the Interlude of our Lord ’

s Pas

s ion ”in 1463. It was a stationary play of cons iderable

extent , and the circumstances of its repres entation lead one toconclude that it was of the type fami liar in the passion plays

of the continent. There was much dramatic activity in thatpart of England

,and the free interchange of performances

among the town s leads one to think that they must have

had stationary plays and not cyclic Corpus Christi plays . At

Aberdeen,where the pas sion group and the nativity group

were not un ited, the passion which was performed at Corpus

Christi day , was called the Haliblude play.

” Similarly, at

8 Chambers , 348 fi‘

.

9 Pas torn L etters , cd . Gardiner, iii. , 227.

1 ° Hist. MS S . x iv., 8 , 47.

1 1 See Hist. MSS . as above pp. 2 5 - 5 8 ; also A . F . L each, S ome EnglishPlays and Players in the F urnivall Miscellany, pp. 222-228 , and Chambers,ii., 377 a.

‘2 Hist . MSS ., v., 5 33.


5 94 Crai g

already pointed out,at L econfield and at Leicester. There

was possibly also a Christmas play of some sort at L incoln . It

is referred to in the Chapter computi in 1 406, 145 2 and 1 5 31,

according to Canon Wordsworth, (Lincoln S tatutes, 1 1 . lv ) as

follows : In serothecis emptis proMaria etAn gelo etPrOphetisex consuetudine in Aurora Natalis Dni hoc anno.

” 1 4 Chambersin the Mediceval S tage, volume 1 1

,Appendix W

,from

which I have drawn the foregoing materials,gives references

which indicate a variety of forms of the religious drama,

and his list is by no means complete. The Digby plays are

also a case in point , s ince you have there four plays none

of which belongs to Corpus Christi cycles . The Massacreof the Innocents is a part of an elaborate N ativity cycle

,and

the Burial and Resurrection is apparently an independentresurrection play .

Corpus Christi plays were characterized,in the first place,

by completeness of cyclical content . They extended from the

Creation to Doomsday, and they included plays of the Na

tivity , as well as of the Passion and Resurrection . They

seem all to have been acted by craft guilds , wi th local difterences as at N orwich

,and to have been , to a greater or

les s degree, under municipal control . The plays of the Corpus

Christi type were probably all acted, as the name indicates ,originally at Corpus Chris titide, and it is natural to thinkthat they came into existence in connection with the obser

vance of the festival of Corpus Christi ; but there is verylittle actual evidence to connect the plays , as is usually done,with the Corpus Christi procession .

The Corpus Christi festival , and with it the process ion ,

made its way very quickly over England . It was reaffirmed

in 131 1,delayed for some years , and reissued by Pope John

XXII in 131 6 as part of the Canon Law. The papal decree1 ‘ It is natural to connect with this an entry imperfectly given by the

same author (C . Wordsworth, N otes on theMediceval S ervices in England,“In 142 1 tithes to the amount of 8 5 8d were as signed to Thomas

Chamberleyn for getting up a spectacle or pageant ( ‘cuiusdam ex cellentisvisus ’

) called R ubwm quem viderat at Christmas .


ordered not only the celebration of the festival of CorpusChristi but an attendant procession . The festival was de

clared a prin cipal feast of Canterbury in 131 7, and there is

mention of special services appointed for the festival . (Hist .MSS . E ighth Report, V 1 1 .

,There is another significant

entry in Historia Monasterii Sancti Petri (?rloucestriae,1 5

where you have :“Nota de festivitate Corporis Christi

Anno Domini Milles imo trecentesimo decimo octavo incoepit

festivitas de Corpore Chri sti generaliter celebrari per totam

ecclesiam Anglicanam. The same immediacy of its introduction into England is borne out by the reference to Sprott ’

s

Chronicles which states that the festival was a confirmed

institution in England by the year In h onsidefing the

processional feature of the Corpus Christi festival , it is importan t to note the wide latitude allowed each diocese or

parish as to the extent and manner of the process ion . A

Council at Paris in 1323 speaks of it in these words : “As to

the solemn proces sion made on the Thursday ’s feast

,when

the Holy Sacrament is carried, seeing that it appears to havebeen introduced in these our times , by a sort of inspiration ,

we prescribe nothing at present and leave all concerning itto the devotion of the clergy and the people.

” 1 7

At Ipswich the Gild Merchant was reconstituted as a Gild

of Corpus Christi in 1 325, and the Constitution provides for

a process ion on Corpus Christi day .

1 8 At London the fra

ternity of Skinners had a procession once every year on

Corpus Christi day afternoon ; this guild dates from 1 327 .

1 9

The Tailors ’

Gild of L incoln,founded in 1328

,had a pro

‘5 R olls Series , Chronicles and Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland

chafing the Middle Ages , ii., 44.

1 6 Mr. M. L yle Spencer, Corpus Chris ti Pagean ts in England page 1 1 ,

cites Sprott but gives no further information as to the introduction of the

festival into England . I owe the two important citations given aboveto a University of Minnesota unpublished Master

’s thesis on the Origin

and Theolog ica l S ignificance of the Corpus Chris ti F es tival by Mr.

Paul E . Kretzmann .

1 7 Gueranger, The L iturgical Year, vol. vii., part 1 , p. 287 if.

1 8 Hist, MSS . ix ., 1 , 245 .

1 9 S tow, Survey of L ondon, 87.

5 96 Crai g

cession of the brethren and s isters on the feast of Corpus

Christi . Similarly there are records of process ions at Coventryin 1 348 20 L eicester in 1349 Beverly between 1 330 and

1 35 0.

The earlier part of the fourteenth century, after 1 31 8,

would be the probable time for the invention of the Corpus

Chri sti play, if it arose defin itely in connection with the ob

servance of Corpus Chris ti day . The earliest records of

Corpus Christi plays are from Beverley in 1377 , where in

1390 they are spoken of as“antiqua consuetudo”

; from York

in 1378,where in 1394 the pageants are to play at places

“antiquatus assignatis

”; from Coventry in 1 392

,and others

in the early fifteenth century .

2 3 We may fairly take the

Cambridge reference of about 135 0 to a certain William de

L enne and his wife who joined the gild of Corpus Christiand spent a mark “

in ludo filiorum Israelis ”, as partly bridg

ing the long gap from the traditional date of 1328 at Chester

to the earliest Beverley record in 1 377 . In that case weshould unders tand the ludum filiorum Israelis ”

as being

a play of the Slaughter of the Innocents , and therefore, an

ordinary member of a Corpus Christi cycle. The play of the

sons of Jacob,whi ch Creizenach takes this to mean ,

is otherwise unknown in England

,and the play of the Slaughter oi

the Innocents is several times called the Children of Is rael ? 4

A lost play on the subject at Beverley was so called ; so

also apparently a pageant in the Dublin process ion ; in the

N orwich list the “ Children of Israel ” refers to Moses and

his host in the Pharoah play. At any rate the Cambridge

reference probably indicates a Corpus Christi play. The Ches

ter tradition has been frequently discussed of late years ,and the general effect has been to render it credible, as

2° Smith, English Gilds , 182, 232 .

W. Kelly, N otices of the Drama, 36 .

A . F . L each, Beverley Town Doowments , p. ix.

2“Chambers , ii ., Appendix W.

24 Chambers , 344 and other entries in Appendix W ; R etrospective

R ev iew, x i i. , 7 quoting Mas ters, H is tory of C . C’. C. Cambridge, i . , 5

Creizenach, i ., 69 .


5 98 Craig

continent ; but not, I think, the actual form of the EnglishCorpus Chri sti play ; there are no extant parallels among the

cyclic plays of the continent,although there are fairly close

approximations . What seems to have been done was to trans

fer to Corpus Chris ti day and to arrange, in the extensive

cyclic form,plays already of considerable development .

Ah indication of this special establishment is perhaps to befound in the subjects played by the various gilds in the

cycles . The way they fit together seems to point to deliberateassignment . The bakers at Beverley, Chester and York played

the Last Supper, probably becaus e it seemed appropriate to

some one'

for them to furnish bread ; the cooks of Beverley

and Chester played the Harrowing of Hell,becaus e, we may

suppose,they could handle fire ; the watermen at Beverley

and Chester, and the Shipwrights of York and N ewcastle

played Noah ’s Ark for obvious reasons , and so on . It is

pretty obvious from records at Coventry and Beverley and

other places that a gild often played a play having to do

with its patron saint. All these familiar facts indicate that,

at one time in the history of the plays , there was a freedom

to choose, or to be ass igned a desirable or appropriate sub

j ect as a part in the cycle. The cases are so numerous as to

preclude the poss ibility of their being the result of chanceor gradual adaptation ; they can hardly be the result of

choos ing in pre-cyclic times . The cases of Leicester in 1 477

,

where there was a debate as to putting their passion play tothe crafts , and N orwich in 1 5 27 , where the plays were shifted

from St. Luke ’s gild to all the gilds , are both in point.

This set of circums tances,the general recogn ition of the

play as a dramatic species , its cosmic form,

’

its geographical

location ,its connection with the crafts , its complete establish

ment during the fourteenth century, so that by the end of

the century it had become an ancient custom ,together with

the evidences that the parts of the play were still uncombined

in the thirteenth century,to take the English records alone,

constitute a fair ground for believing that the Corpus Chris tiplay was invented about the end of the first quarter of the

4”fourteenth century at some place probably in the north or


eas t of England,and spread thence to other places in the

island . The same cycle was not borrowed, but other placesconstructed out of their own local plays similar cycles .

It yet remains to be as ked why such an invention shouldhave been suggested by the festival of Corpus Christi . Thereis nothing deliberately descriptive of the great cosmic themeeither in the bull of Pope Urban IV.

, the order of the Coun

cil of Vienna, the confirmation of the decree in the Canon

Law, or the service of Corpus Christi day , although they wereall written with the idea that this service was theologicallyand ritualistically a consummation of the entire plan of sal

vation . Indeed the service may be said to portray the entireplan of salvation

,culminating in sacrifice and everywhere

cons cious of the types of Christ among the patriarchs and

of prophecy and its fulfillment. It is the same great story of

the fall and redemption of man as that which we have inepics , sermons , commentaries and cyclic plays both of the

Corpus Christi type and the passion play type ; it may almost

be said to be the whole service of the year in min iature.

There is not,however, any suggestion of his torical sequence.

Since there was such latitude in the matter of the proces

sion and since some of the plays are themselves processional ,it has been sugges ted that the plays began as dumb-show

pageants in the Corpus Christi procession and developed intodrama from dumb-show

,or had added to them the traditional

materials from the already secularized liturgical plays .

There are some serious objections to this theory in eitherform. In the firs t place, it makes a mi stake as to what thenature and purpose of the Corpus Christi process ion was .

It was a very much commoner thing than were the plays ,and was entirely independent of them. This is interestinglyillustrated by the substitution of the Credo play for the

Corpus Christi play at York in 1 5 35 and 1 5 68 and of the

Pater N oster for it in 1 5 5 8 without apparently affecting the8° C . Davidson, Eng lish Mys tery Plays ; Creizenach , i ., 1 69 ff. ; Cham

bers, ii., 1 73 et pass im; M. L . Spencer, wt sup ,6 1 fl

“.

600 Crai g

procession .

3 1 A Corpus Christi process ion was a march of

ecclesiastics and laity, usually the whole body of citizens ,through the streets of the city ; it was part of a religiousservice and usually comprehended a return to the place of

setting out. The citizens marched by crafts and in livery ;and since they were themselves the spectators and actors of

the plays , it is hard to see how plays could ever have been

acted as part of the procession . It is doubtful,particularly

in the earlier days of the procession ,if the acting of plays

would have been suitable or acceptable, even if it were poss ible to act them as the procession moved . There is none

except very late evidence to connect the pageants with the

Corpus Christi procession ; they did not always appear in it,and if they did appear

,it was not always in any very orderly

way . The process ional lists from Hereford and Dublin and

the gear from the procession at Dundee are indications of

defun ct cycles rather than mimetic pageants about to develop

into cycles .

32 Moreover , the narrow,crooked streets of me

diaeval English towns would have made acting as the pageants

moved a very impracticable thing both for actors and specta

tors .

More important still,a series of pageant tableaux on so

extensive and so orderly a scale, as must have been ,from its

very beginning,every Corpus Christi play of which we have

any record, could hardly have come into existence at all

until after the community had been educated by familiaritywith the plays . We should never have arrived at the un iformdefin ite result that we have

,Corpus Christi cycles with their

general similarities , their local differences and their constant

dependen ce upon their liturgical predecessors , if a beginn inghad been made from a set of. ideally cons tructed pageant

31 Davies , Municipal R ecords , 2 5 6-8 . Ah entry in the Corporation

Register of L incoln o f December 31 , 1 5 21 , indicate s a similar inde

pendence on the part of the S t. Anne’s procession at L incoln : Every

alderman to make a gown for the kings in the pageant on S t. Anne’s day,

and the Pater noster play to be played thi s year.

” H ist. MSS . , x iv., 8 ,

29. The Sacrament was carried in the S t. Anne’s procession anii it

seems to have been a Corpus Christi procession, although held on S t.

Anne’s day.

3“Chambers, App. W ; M. L . Spencer, 7 1 fi'

.


602 Crai g

Christi process ion , bearing in mind, however, that there isno evidence for it, and s topped at various places to act the

s cenes one after another, then it follows from the amoun t of

time required, even from the firs t, that the Host , the clergy,

the mayor and the city fathers must have preceded the gildswith their pageants ; for otherwise they would have had to

halt in the s treet at the first station for three or four hours .

Mr . Spencer states that in the earliest times the crafts

men led the procession and the eccles ias tics followed, but inthis matter I think he has been mis led .

34 The oldest and best

case, that of Ipswich , is precisely the other way about.

3 5 So

also at Beverley and York . Sharp states 36 that it seems

reasonable to infer that the laity preceded the Host at Conventry ; but it is not absolutely certain that this was the case,and if it was

,it is the exception rather than the rule.

There were some places,where for all we know,

the plays

were just as ancient , in which the pageants were not carriedabout the streets

,but the plays were acted on fix ed stages .

A connection with the Corpus Christi procession is not abso

lutely necessary to account for the processional idea. It is

certain that the Corpus Christi play originated,not in dumb

show,but by the union of preexistent plays

,in cyclic combina

tion for the most part , extensive in scope,long familiar to the

people, and of. native growth .

HARDIN CRAIG.

University of Minnesota.

“ L oo. ci t , p. 77 .

3"’ H is . MSS . ix ., 8 , 245 .

86 D is s ertation,12 5 .


REVIEWS AND NOTES

GRUDZIN SKI, HERBERT : SHAF TESBURYS EIN’

FLUSSAUF CHR . M. WIELAND . Mit einer Einleitung iiberden Einfiuss Shaftesburys auf die deutsche L iteratur bis1 760. Breslauer Beitrage zur L iteraturgeschichte. Stuttgart 1 91 3. Metzlersche Buchhandlung . 104 pp . M.

ELSON, CHARLES : WIELAND AND SHAFTESBURY.

Columbia University Germanic Studies . Columbia Univers ity Press . N ew York

,1 913. 143 pp .

Diese zwei Arbeiten erganzen sich in erfreulicher Weise.

In seiner Dissertation definiert Grudzinski zuerst Shaftesburys Philosophie. Der Grundzug derselben besteht darin ,

Welt and L eben aesthethis ch zu erfassen und zu gestalten .

Daher lehnt Shaftesbury die Metaphysik ab und strebt nachL ebensweisheit. Die Grundlage dieser L ebensweisheit aber istsein aesthetischer Begrifi

"

der Harmonie, der dann direkt zuraesthetischen Theodizee fuhrt . Denn die N atur erscheint ihm—wie einem Platon

,einem Plotinus

, einem Bruno—als sch6n

heitsvolle Harmon ie und Ordnung . Shaftesbury iibertr'

agt

nun diesen Harmoniebegriff auf die Sittlichkeit und gelangtauf diese Weise zum Gedanken einer aesthetischen Bildung,zur Verwerfung jeder Verkiimmerung durch Pfiichtgebote,und zur Begrundung des s ittlichen Handelns auf dem Ge

schmack . Wie gewaltig diese Gedanken im achzehnten Jahrhundert besonders auf Schiller gewirkt haben ,

bis Kant mitseinem kategorischen Imperativ ein preuss isch-spartan ischesIdeal aufs tellte, brauche ich wohl kaum zu betonen . Ferner,dass Goethe auch auf diesem Gebiete mi t Shaftesbury iibereinstimmt statt mit Kant , und dass s ich in der Roman tik,wie Walzel (Euph . X IX S . 376 ) hervorgehoben hat, unterdem E influss Shaftesburys kraftig lebensbejahende Stimmungen finden

,darauf sei hier nur nebenbei hingedeutet .

Mit seiner allgemeinen Weltbetrachtung bangt nun Shaftes

burys Ideal des “ virtuoso ” zusammen,des

“ real fine gentleman ”

,der L iebe zur Wissenschaft mit weltm

'

annischemAuftreten verbindet . In der harmonischen Entfaltung derPers6nlichkeit

, auf die Shaftesbury immer wieder das Hauptgewicht legt , spielen die altruistischen Regungen (

“natural

im Gegensatz zum theoretischen Egoismus einesHobbes und La Rochefoucauld

,eine bedeutende Rolle. Aus

Shaftesburys aesthetischer Auifassung der Moral folgertlogisch , dass der Mensch durch s ittliche A 1 beit an s ich selbstzum Kiinstler wird . Daher ist die harmonische Seele die

604 oon Klenze

hochste irdische S chonheit moral grace”,

“ moral VenusWer dachte n icht sofort an Goethe ’

s griechisch-Shaftesburysches Ideal ? Die Pfiicht des Dichters ist es nun

,nach

Shaftesbury, die Schiinheit im Sinne des aesthetischen Optimismus zum Aus druck zu bringen . Der Kiin stler wirdauf diese Weise zum S ch6pfer :

“a veritable Prometheus

under Jove”. Wir erinnern uns bei di eser Gelegenheit

der Ausfiih rungen Walzels in“Das Prometheussymbol von

Shaftesbury zu Goethe”,L eipzig und Berlin 1 910

, einerSchrift di e auch G. zitiert und in der mit Griindlichkeitund Geist die Benutzung des Prometheusmythus bei den

vers chiedenen deutschen Dichtern des 1 8ten Jahrhundertsnach dem Erscheinen der Werke Shaftesbury

’

s verfolgt wird .

Der feine englische gentleman Shaftesbury,dem an der

Harmon ie der Seele l iegt , wehrt sich mit aller Gewalt gegenjede Art von Ubertreibung und vor allem vor unbeherrschterBegeisterung. Daher erscheint ihm “

enthus iasm”(“Schwar

der s ich im s iebzehn ten Jahrhundert auf religi6sem Gebiete als gefahrlich erweisen hatte, als die widerlichste aller Verirrungen . Aus seiner ganzen Weltbetrachtungfolgert weiter—und auch hierin wird Shaftesbury einer derFuhrer der neuen geistigen Bewegung des achzehnten Jahrhunderts dass selbst die Religion der wissenschaftlichenKritik unterbreitet werden mus s . Er n immt der Religiondaher ihren Jenseitscharakter und legt den Hauptnachdruck

auf das s ittliche L eben .

Wenn ich hier G.

’s Ausfuhrungen etwas im Detail wieder

gegeben und somit manches Bekannte wiederholt habe,so

ges chah das nur,weil meines Wissens in der grossen L itera

tur iiber Shaftesbury n irgends die Hauptgrundziige seinesphilosophischen Systems so knapp und klar dargelegt wordens ind

,wie bei G . Und wir s ind uns j a ers t in den letzten

Jahren,vor allem durch Dilthey und Walzel , uber die ge

waltige Bedeutung Shaftesburys fiir das ganze Lebensideal unserer Klassiker klar geworden . Denn Shaftesburyfand sofort , wie G. weiter ausfiihrt, lebhaften Anklang,Zuerst selbstverstandli ch in England (Hutcheson , JamesThomson

,R ichards on

,u . A . dann aber in Deutschland.

Sein Optimismus wirkte im Gegensatz zum fins teren Pes

simismus des siebzehnten Jahrhunderts auf lebensfroheDichter wie Hagedorn . Sein Geselligkeitstrieb f6rderte den

Zug der allgemeinen Menschenliebe, der sich im ganzenachzehnten Jahrhundert in Deutschland zeigt . Man denkean den F reunds chaftskultus der Gleim und Klopstock; an

Goethe ’

s“ Zueignung”

(“F iir andere wachs t in mir das edle


606 Baker

land vor Wieland gibt , noch aber seinem Stoff in so lichtvollerWeise gliedert wie G.

, so erganzt er zwar G.

’s Schrift

,macht

sie aber trotz seiner Griindlichkeit durchaus nicht iiberfiiis sig . Erst nach der L ektiire von G.

’s Dissertation kann

der L eser die Resul tate der Elsonschen in fruchtbarer Weiseausniitzen .

So haben wir allen Grund,uns uber diese zwei Un ter

suchungen zu freuen ,die, jede in ihrer Art, zum Verst 'and

nis der tiefen Bedeutung Shaftesburys in tiichtiger Weisebeitragen .

Nur eins hatte ich an der Methode auszusetzen . Man ge

winnt sowohl bei G. wie bei E . den E indruck,als ob Wieland

erst durch Shaftesbury zu einer Wandlung in seinen Ans chauungen gekommen ware. Wir sollten mehr und mehr denAns chein vermeiden ,

als wenn wir glaubten,dass Einfiiisse

’

auf rein mechan ische Weise das Weltbild irgend eines Men

s chen gewandelt hatten , N atiirlich lag bei Wieland schon inder Jugend der Keim zum Umschlag. Allerdi ngs bedurftees ausserer Anregun gen ,

bis aus dem Verfas ser Der Em

pfindun gen eines Chris ten ”der Dichter des “

Don Sylvio”

werden konnte. Shaftesburys Werke gaben einen ,und

wahrscheinlich den m'

achtigsten ,Anstoss . Es hatte s ich nun

der Miihe verlohnt,Inkonsequenzen und An s

'

atze zu neuen

Anschauungen in den Jugendwerken und -Briefen Wieland ’s

aufzudecken und so dem“Einfiuss

”Shaftesburys in noch

kritischerer Weise nachzuspiiren .

CAMILLO VON KLEN ZE .

Brown University, Providence, R . I

DASS GERETTETE VENEDIG, eine vergleichende

Studi e von Fritz Winther. Un iversity of CaliforniaPublications in Modern Philology . Vol . 3. N o. 2 . pp.

87-246 . F eb . 1 2, 1 914.

Es wird heutzutage der vergleichenden L iteraturgeschichtezum Vorwurf gemacht, dass es ihr an psychologischer Vertiefung mangle. In dem eint6nigen Versuch , den Einfluss

eines Dichters auf einen anderen festzustellen , z'

ahlt sie Ent

lehnungen uber Entlehnungen ,Ankl

'

ange iiber Ankl'

ange

auf. S ie lass t dabei gewiihnlich ausser acht , dass die

fibernahmen eben so gut unbewusst wi e bewuss t seink6nnen ,

und dass durch die blosse Aufh '

aufung von‘

Paralleleu der Originalitat eines Dichters kein Eintrag getanwird . Es w

'

are eine griiss ere und lohnendere Aufgabe, der


Empfindungsweise und der Gedankenwelt der Dichter ver

schiedener N ationen und Epochen nachzugehen ,die bedeu

tendsten und kraftigsten Ideen ,die sie bewegen ,

hervorzu

heben . Denn hier treten wirkliche Zusammenhange zutage,die von grosser Bedeutung sind , sowohl fur die allgemeineGeschichte des menschlichen Geistes wie fiir das richtigeVerst

'

andnis der betreffenden Dichter. Nach dieser h6herenAuffassung der vergleichenden L iteraturgeschichte verf'ahrtFri tz Winther in seiner Untersuchung des Motivs “

Das

gerettete Venedig”in den gleichnamigen Dramen von Otway,

La Fosse und Hofmannsthal .

Otway, das englische Vorbild des franzosischen und des

deutschen Dichters lebte von 1 65 1 1 685 . In den kurzen Jahrenseinen Daseins durchlebte er das letzte Tosen der Renaissan ce

,das satirische Gez

'

ank der Restauration und die Ariendes franziisischen Klassizismus .

” Sein “ Venice Preserved”

ist sogar das bedeutendste englische Drama zwischen Shakespeare und Shelly . Otway

’

s pers iinliche Erlebnisse trugendazu bei, ihm jene diistere Weltanschauung aufzupr

'

agen ,

die den einzelnen Menschen als zuf'

alligen Federball roherund feindlicher M

'

achte betrachtet. Seine Menschen gebensich ihrem ungeziigelten Treiben hin

,ihr ganzes Tun wird

nur von L eidenschaft und Phantas ie bestimmt und sie stiirzen

ins Verderben ohne Rucksicht auf die h6heren Geistsf'

ahigkeiten .

Der franzosische Dramatiker La Fosse lebte von 1 65 3-1738 ,in der Zeit zwischen Racine und Voltaire, als der Rationalismus seinen H6henpunkt erreichte. Er steht ganz unter demZeichen des franz '

osischen Klassizismus und wurde sogar zumF iirsprecher der franziisischen Aristokratie, in der sich die

Ideale des Klassizismus verk6rperten . Verstand und Ver

nunft s ind die Merkmale seiner Dichtung und seine Menschenbleiben immer im s teifen Rahmen der formelhaften Wiederbelebung der Antike.

In scharfem Gegensatz zu La Fosse und gleichsam auf

einer Mittelstufe zwischen ihm und Otway steht der deutscheDichter Hugo von Hofmannsthal . F riih wandte er s ichmitEkelVom N aturalismus und der banalen Allt

‘

aglichkeit seiner Mitwelt , um s ich in die Spatrenaissance, die Zeit freien , kiinstler

ischenSchaffens, und grosser , selbstbestimmender Perstinlich

keiten zu versenken . Als Sohn seiner Zeit aber hat er sich demrationalistischen Einfluss des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts n ichtganz en tziehen k6nnen . Er neigt also einerseits zu den impulsiy en tatkraftigen Menschen der Shakespeareschen Biihne,andererseits den verniinftigen ,

intellektuellen Mens chen der

608 Baker

franzosischen Buhne hin . Als Folge eines unausgeglichenenKampfes zwischen Verstand und L eidenschaft entsteht beiHofmanns thal ein Menschentypus

,der sich von der Gestalten

des Shakespeareschen Dramas wie von denen des franziisischenunterscheidet , eineMenschenart , die ihre Gefiihle und Ideen insinnlichen metapherreichen Wortgebilden ausdriickt

,die aber

n icht die Kraft besitzt , ihr Wollen in Handlung umzusetzen .

Auf der breiten Grundlage des personlichen Erlebnissesund der Zeitstriimungen prii ftWinther die drei Bearbeitungen“des geretteten Venedigs ”

auf ihrem geistigen Inhalt . Er

teilt sein Hauptkapitel Unterschiede in der Dars tellungsweise”

in folgende Abschnitte ein : 1 . Verstand,Phantas ie,

L eidenschaft ; 2 Einzelne Charaktere ; 3. Freundschaft ;4. Ehe ; 5 . Der Ubergang vom Verchw6rer zum Verr

'

ater ;6 . Motive des Handelns ; 7 . Orient und Renaissance ; 8 . Lyr

ische Elemente ; 9 . Sprache und Technik . Der Hauptver

dienst derWinthers chen Arbeit liegt gleich im ersten Abschnitt .Mit psychologischem Scharfsinn und umfassender Kenntnisdes Zeitgeistes beton t er das Vorherrs chen des Verstandes ,der Phantasie, oder der L eidenschaft in den drei Dramen .

Das Ergebn is dieses Teils seiner Untersuchung lautet folgendermassen :

“Bei La Fosse finden wir ein Maximum des

Verstandes und ein Minimum der Phantasie ; bei Otway ein

Minimum des Verstandes und ein Maximum der Phantasie ;bei Hofmanns thal hat sich das Problem verwickelt ; wir habenStellen ,

wo der Verstand der Phantas ie untergordnet ist,entweder so dass er ganz ausgeschaltet zu sein scheint

,oder

so dass er ganz in den Dienst der Phantasie gestellt wird ,also ahnliche Verhaltnisse wie bei Otway ; anderswo sindVers tand und Phantas ie ziemlich gleichges tellt und dannfinden wir den besonders die Moderne auszeichnenden Fall ,dass der Verstand sich die Phantasie dienstbar macht . ”

Besonders einleuchtend ist der Abschn itt uber die Ehe.

Winther leitet die Auffassung des Verhaltnisses zwischenMann und Weib sowohl von der gesellschaftlichen Stellungder Dichter wie von den Kulturzust

'

anden des Zeitalters her .

Otway’s Belvidera verk6rpert die Ideale des englischen

Biirgertums , dem der Dichter selbst entsprungen ist. GanzDemut opfert s ie sich ohne Widerstand den h6heren Interessen ihres Mannes . Die Valerie von L a Fosse ist aberdie vornehme und selbstbewusste Aristokratin

,die ihrem

Manne geistig und gesells chaftlich gleichgestellt ist. Stolzund Ehrgefiihl s ind die Triebfedern ihrer Handlungen . Als

geborener Aristokrat bevorzugt Hofmannsthal die franzosischcHeroine. Stolz und Verachtung der sozial Tieferstehenden


610 B rooks

nicht in Betracht ziehen sollte, ehe man denselben einer so

tiefgehenden Untersuchung wiirdigt. Als biihnengerechtes

Drama is bekanntlich Hofmannsthals Stiick von dem Pub

likum und der Kritik abgelehnt worden . Es leidet namlichan Retardierung der Handlung durch weitl

'

aufige Milieuschilderung und Zersplitterung de’

s Interesses zwis chen den

zwei Helden Jaffier und Pierre. Vom Standpunkt des Dichters ist Jafii er der psychologisch konsequent durchgefiihrteHeld . In der Tat aber ist er ein kleinlicher

,schwacher Mensch

ohne innere Griiss e,der s ich in ein Unternehmen einl

'

asstdem er n icht gewachsen ist, und durch seine Gattin bestimmt,das Werk und seinen Freund verr

'

at . Der eigentliche Heldist der Hauptverschwiirer Pierre, der der volkstiiml ichenAuffassung des Heldenhaften V6llig entspricht . Man hat das

Gefiihl dass die relative Bedeutung dieser Menschen verkehrtist. Es ist gerade als wenn Goethe Werslingen statt G6tzzum Helden seines Dramas gemacht h

’

atte.

Ich m6chte durch diese Bedenken keineswegs die Bedeutungder Wintherschen Arbeit unterschatzen . Schade nur dasser kein wichtigeres Drama zum Gegenstand seiner Untersuchung gewahlt hat. Seine Arbeit ist un d bleibt ein wertVoller Beitrag zur vergleichenden L iteraturgeschichte. Es

kann sein,dass man ches psychologische Detail ausgeklugelt

und weit hergeholt ist. Diesen Mangeln nachzugehen ,iiber

lasse ich dem fachm'

annischen Psychologen . Die Grundlinienseiner Studie sind mit fester und kr

'

aftiger Hand gezeichnetund sollten als Vorbild dienen fiir weitere Untersuchungenauf diesem Gebiet .

GEORGE M. BAKER .

Phi ladelphia.

RECENT BOOKS ON THE MEDIE VAL RELIGIOUS

DRAMAFriedrich Krage has published in the Germanische Biblio

theh a very welcome new edition of the fifteenth centuryLow German play

,Der S iindenfall. The only edi tion hitherto

available is the one by Soh6nemann of the year 1 8 5 5 , whichoffers a very inaccurate text and has also long been out of

print . The introduction of the new edition begins with a

study of the language of the play and a utilization of the

results in fix ing the home oi. the poet in the G6ttingen-Grubenhagen district

,probably either in the town of E inbeck , whose

famous beer is served and praised by Solomon in the play, orin Al feld, where the name Arnold Immessen is found in a


document of the year 1486 . F or most of the play Arnoldseems to have had no important source except the Vulgate.

His vers ion of the sending of Seth into Paradise is taken fromanother source. Schiinemann thought he used the Low Ger

man Hartebok der F landerfahrer . Krage shows , however,that Arnold did not use the Hartebok but used its N etherlandsource Dboec van den houte and used it also with intelligenceand skill .1

Arnold covers in his play the time from the creation of

the world to the presentation of the three-year-old Mary inthe temple. This does not seem a natural place to end and

the question has often been raised as to whether the playwith its 3962 lines is complete. Krage considers the questionand answers it in the affirmative. The introduction ends witha brief metrical s tudy and a list of text emendations anddeviations from Schtinemann . After the text come somepages of notes and a glossary of the Low German words thatmight give one trouble. The note on

“an s inen dank”

(l. 1 626 ) seems awkward and even incorrect ; the expressionas used here means “

against his will” or“ without his being

able to help it”. Krage

’s edition ,

with its apparently ac

curate text and all these other aids,is a valuable and service

able addition to the literature of this field .

In Rudolph H6pfner ’

s investigation of three related Easterplays he devotes about two-thirds of his book to a study of thelanguage of the plays and attempts to determine in this waythe home of the respective poets as well as the scribes of the

manuscripts . All three plays have long been known to be

of Middle German origin . H6pfner establishes a probabilityof the Innsbruck play having been written in the Hennebergdistrict

,possibly in Schmalkalden , and he dates it, or at least

a certain part of it,between 1 323 and 1 347 . The Berlin

play, of which only a fragment of two pages has been pre

served, he assigns to Thuringia. The Vienna play he placesfurther East in Siles ia and thinks it was written in the

second half or towards the end of the fourteenth century .

1 Arnold Immessen, Der Sundenfall. Mit E inleitung, Anmerkungenund W6rterverze ichnis neu herausgegeben von F riedrich Krage (Germanische Bibliothek, hrsg. von W. S treitberg, I I, H eidelberg, 1 9 13.

Carl Winters U niversitatsbuchhandlung. M. 6 :40; bound M. 7 :40.Untersuchungen zu dem Innsbrucker , Berliner und Wiener Osterspielvon R udolph H6pfner (Germanistische Abhandlungen Breslau,Verlag von M. H . Marcus , 19 13 . M. 5 :60.

Die Prophetenspriiche und -zitate im religi iisen Drama des deutschenMittelalters , von Dr . Phil. Joseph R udwin (Purdue University, Indiana) .L eipzig und Dresden, 1 9 13 . Kommissionsgerlag von C . L udwig Ungelenk .

5 0 P f.

612 Brooks

The last third of Hopfner’s work is devoted to a study of the

literary relations of the plays to each other and to otherplays . The net results are not great

,although a good many

interesting matters of detail are brought out. Recent yearshave seen a number of detailed studies of plays , such as thisof H6pfner , and they are important steps towards a betterknowledge of the his tory of the mediaeval religious drama.

The little work of Dr . Rudwin on the PrOphetenspriiche

discusses briefly the prophet scenes in the medie val religiousdrama of Germany

,their importance and widespread oc

currence, their purpose, the external appearan ce of the pro

phets and the Biblical sources of their prophecies , the develOpment from the s imple prophet scenes to disputations cenes between prophets and Jews

,and finally into dispu

tation scenes between E cclesia and Synagoga. The limitationto Germany is unfortunate. The early forms of the mediaevalreligious drama and especially its Latin beginnings cannotbe profitably dis cussed without overstepping national lines .

Within the limited field there are omissions ; there is no

mention of the prophets and their prophecies in the BrixenPassion play or of the Shrovetide play “

Die alt und neu

Ee” with its survival of the Ecclesia-Synagoga dispute.

Important literature on the subject is apparently unknownor unused

,notably Paul Weber ’

s Geistliches Schauspiel undkirchliche Kunst in ihrem Verh '

altnis erl'

autert an einer Ikonographie der Kirche und Synagoge A few inaccuracieswere noticed in matters of detail . In the first sentence inthe book the first statement is misleading in that it is trueonly of Germany, while the second statement is quite con

trary to fact . At the bottom of page 1 2 there is a comedyof errors

,the statemen t regarding the introductory speech

of Augustinus in the St. Gallen Passion play is wrong, thedate of the play is wrong , and the footnote on the play iswrong

,as Froning has no edition of the S t. Gallen play.

Aside from a few omissions and inaccuracies Dr. Rudwingives a Very good popular account of the development , buthis little book cannot be considered as having scholarly valueas a contribution to the knowledge of the subject .

N . O. BROOKS .



614 Adams, Jr .

beyond doubt Caesar’s F all, and it should, perhaps , have

been so entered .

Finally, the name of Chettle is omitted from the list of collaborators in the two parts of Lady Jane Gray, and in Christmas Comes but Once a Year .

The inaccuracies here noted do not inspire one with con

fidence ; nor have I found pains taking accuracy an invariablecharacteristic of the editorial material . Professor Penn imanseems to have made little use of Greg ’

s scholarly edition of

Henslowe’

s Diary . That he sometimes relied on unauthorita

tive sources is indicated elsewhere ; for example, when ,in

his note to p . 325,ll . 275 -6

,he says

,following Fleay : “

Gammer Gurton

’s N eedle, a play by Bishop Still

,was acted in

1 5 62-63 at court, and at Cambri dge in and againwhen in his note to p . 349

,1. 1 22

,he says : “

A lex ander and

L odowick. The name of a play by Martin Slaughter .

I havemade no attempt to verify other statements con tainedin these two Biographies ; yet in rapidly glan cing over .the

account of Jonson,I observed that the duel with Spencer is

wrongly dated 1 5 99 (probably through a prin ter ’

s error ) ;and the impress ion is given that this duel led to a permanentbreach with Henslowe—at least the fact that in 1 5 99 Jonson

was again writing for the Admiral ’s Men is omitted . Sinceat this time Marston and Dekker were also writing for the

Admiral ’

s Men,and s ince Jonson was collaborating with

Dekker, and possibly with Marston ,the fact has special sig

nificance for the impending animos ity of these playwrights .

But let us turn to Professor Penniman ’s more serious

labors— his Introduction,Texts

,and N otes .

The Introduction fails to give what one would most naturally expect—a clear and well-ordered accoun t of the War of

the Theatres ; instead , it leaves the reader confused and per

plex ed. A brief summary, based on the facts actually known ,

and narrating in a s imple and straightforward manner thehistory of the quarrel between Jonson and the Poetasters ,would be desirable in a work of this nature, intended for thecollege student and the general reader as well as for the

scholar.Professor Penniman spends most of his time in seeking toidentify characters in various plays with real persons . In

some cases , of course, the identification is patent enough

1 Gammer Gurton’

s N eedle was written by William S tevenson ,and was

acted at Christ’s College , first in 1 5 5 3—4 according to Professor Bradley,

in 1 5 5 0- 5 3 according to Professor Wallace ; and again in 1 5 5 9-60. Thereis no evidence that it was ever presented at court. Martin Slaughterwas an actor and not a playwright.


even acknowledged by the authors . But Professor Penniman ,

like other scholars who have wri tten on the subject , does not

hesitate to indulge in the purest speculation . In many casesthe evidence that he adduces to establish his identificationsis trivial , and in some cases worse. Those who seek to provethat Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare

,or that Mistress

Davenant was the Dark Lady of the S onnets,employ reason

ing hardly less astonishing . F or example, Samuel Daniel ,who was so highly praised by Spenser

,Barnfield

,L odge

,

Meres , and others , the tutor to William Herbert , Earl of

Pembroke, and to Lady Anne Clifford , whom Jonson himself described as

“a good honest man ,

Professor Pennimanidentifies with Mattheo, the town gull in Every Man in HisHumour

,with Fastidious Brisk in Every Man Out of His

Humour, with Hedon in Cynthia

’s R evels , with Gullio in

Parnassus,and with Emulo in Patient Grissel. This re

markable series of identifications mainly hinges on the identification of the foolish Gullio, in The R eturn from Parnassus ,Part I

,with Dan iel . In establishing this identification the

editor makes much of the fact that Gullio is represented as

a plagiarist,and he cites the Second Part of the Return from

Parnassus as proof that Dan iel was commonly thought to

be a plagiarist . The passage referred to,however, serves

rather to reveal the high opinion the author of the Parnassus plays had of Daniel , and to make quite improbable any

attack upon him in the silly and contemptible character of

Gullio :

Sweet hony dropping Dam’

ell doth wageWarre with the proudest big ItalianThat melts his heart in sugred sonneting.

Onely let him more sparingly make use

Of others wit, and use his own the moreThat well may scorne base imitation .

The charge here may be that of imitation rather thanplagiarism. But assuming that Daniel was known to be guiltyof plagiarism

,Professor Penniman adduces the following

proof that Gullio was intended for Daniel : “Gullio quotes ,

as his own,lines from Shakespeare, and

‘will runne througha whole booke of Samuel Daniell ’s .

’To me, however, the

fact that when Gullio begins to quote, as his own,scraps of

verse from well-known poets , the sarcasti c Ingenioso remarks“I think he will runne through a whole booke of SamuelDan iell ’s

,

” refutes the theory that Gullio was intended forDaniel . Does not the remark of Ingenioso really compliment Daniel in implying that his books were popular, and

hence apt to be quoted ? L et any one who is in doubt turn

61 6 Adams, Jr .

to Macray’s edition of The R eturn from Parnassus and read

page 5 2 , which introduces , and fully characterizes , the personof Gullio.

But Professor Penniman , having decided the identity of.

Gullio,remarks : The identification of Gullio with Daniel

fix es the identity of several other precisely s imilar characters and he then proceeds to es tablish these identifications . His arguments run like this : “ Hedon keeps ‘

a barberand a monkey,

’Gullio writes ‘

an epitaph on a [his mistress’

]etc. See pages xxxix-xl .

Jonson wrote his own protest agains t this , and I cannotdo better than to let him speak for himself : “My works are

read look into them where have I beenparticular ? Where personal ? except to a mimic

,cheater ,

bawd,or buffoon

,creatures , for their insolence, worthy to be

taxed ? I know that nothing can be so innocentlywrit or carried

,but may be made obnoxious to construction

Application is now grown a trade with many ; andthere are that profess to have a key for the decyphering of

everything ; but let wise and noble persons take heed howthey be too credulous .

’ ’2

In the case of Satiromastix , likewise, the temptation to

discover real persons in the characters is s tronger than s cholars have been able to resist . Dekker is very explicit , and

,

apparently,absolutely sincere in his statemen t to his readers

“Thus much I protest (and sweare by the divinest part oftrue poes ie) that (howsoever the limmes of my naked linesmay bee, and I know have been ,

tortur’

d on the racke) theyare free from conspiring the least disgrace to any man ,

but

onely to our new Horace.

” Yet Mr . H . C. Hart identifiesthe ignorant city gull , Asinius Bubo, with the poet MichaelDrayton . Professor Penniman gives Mr . Hart ’

s identification

(pp . 400-401 ) apparently with approval—he refers to i t often—certainly with no disapproval . Yet who can believe thatthese lines were intended to satirize Draiton

,di ligent and

formall” ?

H or. Good Bubo, read some booke, and give us leaveA s in. L eave have you, deare ningle. Marry, for reading any book,

he take my death upont (as my ningle sayes ) tis out of my element.

N o, fai th, ever since I felt one hit me ith teeth that the greatest

clarkes are not the wisest men, could I abide\

to goe to schoole ; I wasat A 8 ih. presenti and left there : yet, because Ile not be counted worsetoole than I am, Ile turne over a new leafe.

2 Dedication prefix ed to Vohwne, 1 607 .


618 Adams, Jr .

have found duly recorded . Unfortunately,however, the In

duction and the Prologue were not so carefully printed. In

these I noted the following errorsP . 5 , l . 1 . After thee a semi colon for a comma.

P . 5,l . 1 1 . After stay a colon for an exclamation .

P . 5,1 . 14. After not the comma has been dropped ; and

the word these has been unnecessarily cap italized .

P . 5,1. 1 6 . After lights the comma has been dropped.

P . 6,l. 22 . rif e for risse.

P . 8,l. 1 2 . fence for sence.

Satiromastix is printed from the only text, the quarto of

1 602 . The editor says : “As the quarto was careless ly printed

,

an attempt is made here to give a correct text,changes being

indicated in the footnotes . Obvious misprints have beens ilently corrected and the punctuation modernized .

”The

text,so far as I have been able to discover, has been repro

duced with scrupulous accuracy ; but the “ modern ized”punc

tuation is far from satisfactory. Although Professor Penniman has used the greatest freedom in altering the originalpunctuation and capitalization ,

he has done his work so

half-heartedly that he has produced a text which , like F alstafi

’

s otter, is neither fish nor flesh ; it fails to reproduce theoriginal , and it cannot be fairly described as a modern ization .

I cite a few illustrations :293. 342.

“By Jesu ,

within this hour,save you , Captayne

Tucca. This should be z “By Jesu ,

within this hour. —Saveyou , Captayne Tucca.

”In the first clause, Horace promises

Blunt to have the poem ready within an hour ; in the secondclause, he suddenly recogn izes Tucca, who has just entered .

31 3. 48 .

“Away

,and

, stay : here be epigrams ”

This should be pun ctuated : Away, and—Stay

,here be

Epigrams ”

322 . 1 83. Tue. Why well said, my nimble Short-hose.

This pun ctuation spoils the sense. The first clause, Why wellsaid

,

”was addressed to Mistress Miniver ; the second clause,

“My n imble Short-hose, was spoken as ide to Short-hose.

One could readily multiply examples , but the reader will findthem on almost every page.

The Notes to Poetaster are full , and in the main scholarly.

The play, it is true, had already been carefully edited byWhalley, Gifford , Cunningham,

N icholson,Mallory

,and Hart,

so that little matter of great importance could be added ; butProfessor Penniman has shown good judgment in selectingfrom difierent interpretations , and has added fresh materialwhen he could . The N otes to Satiromastix are less satisfactory. This play, of course, had not received the careful


attention that had been given by many scholars to Poetaster.

Profes sor Penniman ,however, has corrected a number of er

rors made by Doctor Scherer, and has contributed many valuable notes of his own .

The inclus ion of certain explanatory material in a Glossaryat the end of the volume is a constant source of annoyance.

F or this , of course, the editor is not to blame ; it is the faultof the series . Yet he has aggravated the annoyance by

inserting in his N otes many words that logically should bein the Glossary ; for example,

etc. Such inconsistency is hard to unders tand .

And equally hard to understand is the failure of the editor toexplain in the Glossary many words that clearly demandexplanation . A few cas es may be cited : “minsitive

,

(the N .E .D . records this as the only occurrence of the word asan adjective, and records only one occurrence of the noun )

“everts ”

(which the N E D . des cribes as rare, and can

give only two other occurrences ) ;“ place-mouth ”

;

scowri ng-s ticke” “ posted off”

“ repaires ” “tall . The same thing is true, though

to a less extent , of passages that call for explanatory notes .

F or example, -5 2 :“She has a Vizard in a bagge will

make her looke like an angell,meaning

,her wealth will trans

form her ugly face into that of an angel -39 : abovea hundred merie tales , ” referr ing to the popular jest-book of

that name. Of course the standard of what is to be includedand what excluded varies -in different annotated editions ; butI have kept in 'mind the standard that this particular volumesets for itself, and judged by its own standard

,there are many

omissions , in both the N otes and the Glossary .

Below are recorded some of the corrections and additionssuggested by an examination of the N otes .

In giving references , the editor might well have re

corded the article by W. J Lawrence, Title and L ocalityBoards on the Pre-R estoration S tage, printed in the Shakes

peare-Jahrbuch for 1 909 (x lv . and subsequently re

printed in his The E lizabethan Playhouse.

-6. S ongs and Sonnets .

“This was the title of Surrey ’

s

Poems To be exact,it was the title of Tottel

’s Miscel

lany, in which appeared poems not only by Surrey,but also

by Wyatt , Grimald, Vaux , Heywood, Somerset , “and other,

”

as the titlepage states . F or“H . E . Hart” read “H . C.

Hart .

”An apter reference than those noted is Master

Slender, in Shakespeare ’s Merry Wives I. 1.

Pantilius Tucca. For‘an interesting surmise as to

the ori g1n of this name,see Wm. Hand Browne, Mod . Lang .

620 Adams, Jr .

N otes,1 905

,xx . 21 6 . Professor Browne ’

s surmise is supportedby a passage in Lady Alimony (Hazlitt

’s Dods ley , xiv.

Tucca says of the players : They forget they are

i’the statute, they are blazond there

,there they are trickt,

they and their pedigrees ; they neede no other heralds, I wisse.

”

The last clause the editor paraphrases thus : “The Statute

describes players so clearly that no other description or ah

nouncement concerning their low position is needed .

”But

obviously Tucca refers , not to an“announ cer,

”but to the

College of Heralds ; he means that the players need no otherherald than the Statute to establish their pedi gree. The

Statute names the players along with fencers , bearwards ,jugglers , pedlers , tinkers , and petty chapmen ,

and clas sifies

them all as“ rogues

,vagabonds and sturdy beggars .

”Cf.

Histrio-Mastix , III. 272 . Philarchus says of the players“ Blush not the peasants at their pedigree ?”

sing with angels . This is a punning reference tothe fact that an angel was commonly called the lawyer ’

s

fee. Thus Stubbes,discuss ing the lawyers in The Display

of Corruptiooi s, says :“It is no meruaile if they be rich and

get much , when they will not speak two words under an angell

(for that is called a counsellers

Three bookes will furnish you . In S tukeley (Simpson , S chool of Shah . I. 1 66 ) thes e are

“L ittleton

,Stamford,

and Brooke.

Tucca calls Ovid Senior old stumpe. The editorthinks this may be

“an allusion to the fact that the char

acter was acted by a boy ,”or

“to the fact that Ovid walked

‘

stitfiy as an old man,

’as Dr. Mallory suggests . The words

old stumpe”do not suggest either littleness or stiffness ;

probably Tucca is merely referring to the age of Ovid Senior .

This chai n . The editor rejects Dr. Mallory ’s

plaus ible suggestion that the chain worn by Ovid Sen iorwas such as in Jonson

’

s day were worn by aldermen and

wealthy citizens . He contends that since Ovid Sen ior was a

Roman,the reference is to the torquis , an ornament of twisted

gold worn in class ical times on the arm,attached to the

breast,or less frequently about the neck . But Jonson

’s

actors did not attempt to reproduce Roman costumes closely ;note the hat and feather of Crispinus , the cap of Chloe withits s ilver bodkin ,

and the long description of contemporarywoman ’

s headdress . Jonson would hardly stickle on thispoint. Ou page 24, Tucca says to Ovid : Jove Keepe thychaine from pawning .

”This refers to the Elizabethan .

cus

tom,so often mentioned in the drama

,of men pawning their

gold chains . As to the value of these chains , see The Puritan


622 Adams, Jr .

lead apes in hell. The best explanation of thisdiffit express ion has been made by Prof. G. C. MooreSmith

,in Mod . Lang . R eview

,April

,1 904

,vii . 6.

-5 . A glance at the horn joke.

Asinius refers to his pipe.

Caine. Tucca,addressing As inius

,makes a pun

on“ cane tobacco.

Gorbodueh. The editor thinks this a reference tothe tragedy in the Senecan manner

,written by Norton and

Sackvi lle, and acted by the lawyers in 1 5 60. But it is farmore likely that Tucca is referring to plays fresh in the

minds of the audi ence. From Henslowe’

s Diary we learnthat in 1 600Haughton wrote a play on the same theme, calledF errex and F orrem. F or the same reason I beli eve thatTucca

’s reference to Damon and Pithias , l . 406

,is to Chettle

’s

play written for Henslowe in 1 600,rather than to the early

play of the same name by Edwards,1 5 64.

heyre apparant of Helicon . The editor is wrong,

I think,in supposing that Tucca refers to Jonson . The

phrase is applied to Crispinus-Marston,

“the new poet . ”

Dekker pays him another compliment on page 382, lines 1 25 -6 .

When thou ranst mad for the death of Horatio.

The editor says : “There were two plays in which Jeronymo

appears . One is The Spanish Tragedy, and the other, earlier,

is referred to by Jonson in the Introduction to Cynthia’s

Revels as‘

Hieronimo as it was first acted .

’These are not

two plays,for Jonson is referring to Kyd

’

s Spanish Tragedyas it was before “

additions ” were made to it by later writers .

Jonson hims elf, in 1 601,was hired to make such additions .

The editor makes the same confus ion in his note to-4. F annias his play-dresser, who cut an

innocentMoore i’th middle, to serve him in twice. Professor

Penn iman says : We do not know what Dekker refers to

when he says that Jonson ‘

cut an innocent Moore i ’th middle ’

etc.

” Dekker does not accuse Jonson of this , but hims elf .

Professor Penniman adds :“Mr . Fleay ofiers the only plaus

ible explanation thus far discovered , ” and quotes F leay’s

theory that Dekker had “ patched up the play”of S tukeley

“ with half of one by Peele on the Moor Mahomet . ” But thistheory is not very plaus ible, for the passage seems to meanthat Dekker took a s ingle play

,made it into two, and thus

served it in twice ; in S tukeley we have two plays condensedinto one.

The editor ’

s note indicates that he did not tinderstand this passage ; the latter part of his note is wholly ir

R eviews and Notes 623

relevant Sir Vaughan dubs his man Peter Salamanderbecause of Peter ’

s violent red nose and face —a frequentmake-up for the Elizabethan clown

,for example, Bardolph

in Henry IV.

Alex as S ecrets . Alexas is an attendant on Cleopatra in Antony and Cleopatra. The reference is perhapsto the scene with the Soothsayer (I. But Shakespeareis supposed not to have written Antony and Cleopatra until1 607-8 .

Tucca,speaking of Horace-Jonson ,

says : Ile

love the little atheist . The editor comments : “Actors were

regarded by many (e. g . Gosson ) as immoral and profiigatecharacters . However true this may be in general , it hardlyapplies here. Dekker is not satirizing Jonson as an actor ;instead he is taking up the cudgels for the actors againsttheir enemy Jonson . Apparently Dekker is «‘ referring to

Jonson’s religion

, or is trying to brand him with atheism .

Note that the charge is repeated, p . 394, l . 10:“That hereticall

libertine Horace.

”

-6 . banisht thee into the Ile of Dogs . The wordbanisht

”and Tucca

’

s habit of referring to famous playsmake it almost certain that he is here glancing at N ash ’

s

Isle of Dogs .

-30. Thou’lt shoot thy quills at me wi lt

not, porcupine? Topsell, in The History of F our-footedBeasts p . 5 88

,says that the porcupines shoot their

quills with such violence that many times they stick in totrees .

-7 . Like the poore fellow under Ludgate. The edi

tor ’

s note about the debtors prison is not to the point . Dekkerprobably refers to a particular beggar at Ludgate

,and not

to the general practice of prisoners begging through the

grates,which

,according to Thomas Heywood , had been ren

dered unnecessary at Ludgate by the generosity of AgnesFoster . See Heywood

, ed. 1 874,

380.

Peter is never burnt. A pun ,referring to (1 ) the

fact that salamanders are not injured by flames,and (2 ) the

French disease.

-1 . That’s treason : clip ? horrible treasons . The

note should explain that to clip meant to mutilate the

coin of the realm by paring the edges .

When . Used absolutely,mean ing ‘ ready, now,

‘ then ! ’ Dr . Scherer says : “When = vorwarts . The wordwas used merely as an express ion of impatience. Cf. Julius

Caesar II. i . 5 .

7

624 Padelforcl

mistery . Professor Penniman explains this as a

pun :“A

‘mystery ’was a play based on a subject taken

from the Bible.

”But the word “ mystery ”

in this sense

seems to have been first used in England by Dodsley in his

Preface to his collection of Old Plays , 1 744. See E . K . Chambers

,The Mediceval S tage II. 105

,and A . W. Pollard

,English

Miracle Plays, X iX -X x .

Call in that selfe-creating Horace. F or selfecreating read self-created”

Cf. p . 387,11. 269-70.

inpudentlie. An error for “impudentlie, which

is correctly printed in the quarto.

Thee. Read “the.

”

-1 . S it in a gallery . The gallery was the bestplace in the theatre

,the price of admi ss ion being commonly

two-pence.

”The price of admission to the

“ best place”in

the theatre was at this time (1 601 ) more than two-pen ce.

It is probable that two-pence admitted one to the topmostgallery, but for the best places in the other galleries

,six

pence,a shilling, and even more was charged . The editor

was probably misled by Dr. Scherer ’

s comment. He statesthe facts correctly in his note to

-3. Good lord blesse me out of his maj esties celler .

F or celler read “ coller ”i . e. choler . Cf.

Although Professor Penniman by his Notes has addedmuch to the elucidation of Satiromastix , the play pres entsunusual difficulties , and needs close scrutiny by many scholars . I hope shortly to publish in a separate article additionalnotes to both plays , which my study of this edition has sug

gested , and which could not be given here wi thout undulylengthening this review .

JOSEPH QUINCY ADAMS , JR .


THE MIDDLE ENGLISH PEN ITENTIAL LYRIC,by

Frank Allen Patterson . The Columbia Un ivers ity Press ,N ew York

,1 91 1 ; pp . IX and 203.

The Middle English Pen itential Lyric , by Dr. Frank AllenPatterson

,which appears as one of the Columbia University

Studies in English , is an important contribution to the historyof early religious verse. The book is divided into three parts :

an introduction ,of forty-five pages ; a corpus of texts , of one

hundred and eight pages ; and forty six pages of notes and

bibliography.


626 Padelford

The second part of the Introduction deals with the influences that brought about the development of the vernacularlyric ; these are found to be principally in the liturgy and in

the patristic writings .

The third part considers the French influence,as exerted

by such types as the chanson d’amour, the chanson aperson

nages, the serventois and the ballade.

Dr. Patterson has established an excellent precedent in thisnew class ification ,

organic and fundamental,of the Middle

English religious lyrics , and greatly simplifies the task of

those scholars who may take up the detailed study of otherphases of the lyrics . The study has been conducted withmuch sympathy, and the writer ’

s appreciation of the beauty ofthese fervent poems

,so full of the mys tic ardour of the Medi

esval Church , is in gratifying contrast to the spiri t of con

des cens ion in which they are too often approached .

If the second and third parts of the Introduction con

tain little that is really new, they yet give a more systematicand succinct s tatement of the facts involved than elsewhereis to be found .

The corpus of texts is intended to be complete,and this

intention has very nearly been realized . However,not ques

tioning , for the moment, the author ’

s judgment in determin

ing what types of lyrics to include,there are a few poems of

the accepted types that have been overlooked . The most con

spicuous omission is the poem Pa/rce mihi Domine, beginning“By a forest s ide walkyng as I went ”

,which is very simi lar

to No. 5 ,“As I wandrede her bi weste”

. Three copies of

this lyric are extant , in Mss . Ashmolean 1 89,f . 105 ; Cambridge

601 (R . 3. f . 34 ; and Cambridge 145 0 f. 24.

This omission is the more surpris ing as the antiphon ParceDomine, parce populo tuo

”, the liturgical basis of this poem,

is noted under No . 2,V . 5 (p . Of this same type is

the poem Salvam me fac Domine, Ms . As hmolean 1 89, f . 105 .

Similar to N o. 48,

“A morn ing thanksgiving and prayer to

God”,is the morn ing hymn ,

“Ihesu

,Lord

,blyssed yu be

and the evening hymn ,

“Ihesu ,

Lord,well of all goodness

Ms . Ashmolean 61,f . 22 .

There is of course room for difference of opinion as to justwhat types of lyrics should be regarded as penitential . In

general , Dr. Patterson has drawn the line with care, yet Icannot see why the translations of the penitential psalmsshould be omitted

,especially as th e paternoster is included .

These psalms are translated with much freedom and feelingand have a marked personal note. Such translations as


those in Ms . Ashmolean 61,fs . 108 and Ms . Cambridge

600 (R . 3. f . 1 97—ascribed to Thomas Brampton , wouldseem to have a claim upon this corpus .

Another class of lyrics that one would expect to find in

cluded are the ex hortations to contrition,in which sinful

man is called upon to repent , such as the Virgin ’

s dolefulex hortation in Ms . Ashmolean 1 89

,II

,f . 109

,beginning,

Thou synfulle man of resone,

pat walkest here up and downe .

On the other hand,N o. 68

,

“The Five Joys of the Virgin,

is not primarily a poem of. contrition . To be sure, it ends witha prayer ,

“ help os at ore lynes ende”,etc.

,but we can

scarcely regard this as more than a conventional device forclosing a poem

,a device that was employed in many and many

a carol to give it a good ending , as in thep following characteristic stanza that concludes the carol Paer nobis natus est

Mary, modur and leve virgin,That bare a child Withouten sin,Kepe ‘

us all fro helle pin !De virgine Maria.

It certainly has no more claim than the poem,The Arms

of Christ a poem which concludes a description of the

instruments of Christ ’

s passion with the following prayerL ord, graunt me, ere hat I dye,Sorowe of hert with teres of ey ;Clen clensed for by mercy,E re bat I in my ‘

grave lye.

So bat I may or domes dayTo bat dom cum with owt afray,And wend to blys in cumpany,Ther as men schall nevyr dye ;But dwell in blys with be, L ord bryat,Wher evyr is day and nevyr ny3t ;And lest schall with owt hend .

Ihesu Crist uus bether send !

Amen.

Of this poem two excellent versions are extant , one in the

library of the Catholic College of Blairs,Ms . 13

,and the

other in the library of Stonyhurst College, Ms . 32 .

The notes are excellent , and give the maximum of pertinentinformation in the minimum of space. They are especiallyvaluable in showing the relation of the lyrics to the liturgy.

In a very few instances some of the variants of poems havebeen overlooked. Thus the poem Deus in nomine tao, N o. 21 ,of which it is stated that there is no variant

,is also to be

found in Ms . Ashmolean 5 9,f. 69 . Among the variants of

No. 5 2, the Oratio magistri R ich%rdi de Castre, should be

noted the very fine version in Ms . Sidney Sussex 80 (A. 4.

628 Snyder

and among the variants of No . 60,Mary moder welle

the be”,the vers ion in Ms . As hmolean 75 0

, f. 1 00.

The usefulness of the book would have been enhanced byan index of first lines

,and by an index of manuscripts .

The defects that have been noted are relatively slight, and

this book maintains the s tandard of excellence of a noteworthyseri es .

FREDERICK MORGAN PADELF ORD .

University of Washington .

LOHMANN,HANNA : JOHN WOODWARD

,THE LIFE

AND TRAGEDY OF THE ROYAL LADY MARY,

LATE QUEEN OF SCOTS . Berlin,1 91 2 ; pp . 138 .

This monograph, a Un ivers ity of Berlin dissertation

, pre

sents in admirable form and with more than adequate criticalapparatus

,a text of John Woodward ’

s poem,which Dr. Loh

mann has chosen as the excuse for her dissertation .

The poem in itself is thoroughly pedestrian . All the de

fects of the ordinary stall ballad are here rendered doublyoppressive by the prolixity—there are one hundred and eightysix seven-line stanzas—which the balladist usually avoided .

Finding the poem as it was , however, Miss Lohmann has

treated it admirably,and has made it the occas ion for a

discussion of various matters of interest .The text as here printed is based on a hitherto unpublished

MS . in the Advocates ’L ibrary

,and the occasional lacunae

are supplied from the only other discovered MS . in the

British Museum . Recording in the footnotes all variantreadings

,Miss Lohmann has treated the poem as if it were

a newly discovered fragment of Chaucer , but has made themistake of retaining in her text the original punctuation(“Die interpunktion habe ich thereby render

ing it needlessly difficult to unders tand Woodward ’s verse.

The most contributory section of the monograph is thatentitled “

F riihere Dichtungen iiber Maria Stuart . ” In thesethirty pages the author has collected material of undoubted ,if limited, interest . Other sections , dealing with the relationof the poem to history, and its debt to the Mirror for Magis

trates, are less valuable.

Taken as a whole,the dissertation is an admirable exercise

in editing . It is unfortunate that the poem which occasionedthe study was not more worthy of reclamation from the limboof the deservedly forgotten .

FRANKLYN BLISS SNYDER .

N orthwestern University .


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Z E ITS CHR IF TE N

Englische Studien ; Herausgegeb . v . Prof. JohannesHoops .

L iteraturblatt fur germanische u . romanische Philologie ; Herausgegeb . v . Prof. Behagel 11 nd Prof. Dr.

F ritz N eumann .

Jahresbericht uber die Erscheinungen auf dem Ge

biete der germanischen Philologie : Jahrlich 2 Hefte.

Berliner Philologische Wochenschrift, das fiihrendeCentral-Organ fii r Philologie u . Altertumskunde.

S oeben neu en schien en

Sprachgebrauch und Sprachrichtigkeit im Deuts chen . Von

Karl Gus taf Andresen . Zehnte Auflag e, herausgeg eben von

Dr. Franz S ohns . 1912 . 29% Bog en, g r. M. 6. elegant

g ebunden M. 7.

Inhalt : E inleitung .

—Orthographische V erhaltnis se.—Zur Aussprache.

Volksetymologische Einfiii sse .—F orrnen 1ehre. Deklination der Substantiva.

Genus der S ubstantiva. Adj ektivische F lexion . F lexion der Zahlwc’

irter.

Pronomen . Kon j ugation . Wortbildung .—Syntax. Man ge] des pronomina

len Subj ekts im S atze. Auslassung der Kopula und des H ilfsverbs . Synesisdes Numerus . S prachwidriger P lural des Priidikats . Infinitiv und Partizip.Miszbrauch des reflex iven Pronomens in der Kon j ugation . PersonlichesPass iv von n icht tran sitiven Verben . Wechsel zwischen personl

‘

rchen ti ndunperstin lichen V erbalausdriicken . V erhaltn isse des Modus im N ebensatze.

Zeitvcrhaltn isse des Pradikats . Prapos itionaler Infinitiv . S ubstantivi scherInfin itiv . Beziehungen des unflektierten Partizips . Mange ! des logischen

Subj ekts beim Partizip . Haufung partizipialer Ffigungen. Verwendung derPartizi icn mit Riicks icht auf Tempus 11 nd Modus . Komparation des Partizip .s artizipialstrukturen . Kii rze 11nd S parsamkeit im Ausdruck . Uberflusz 11 nd Uberladung . Pleonasmus und Tautologie . Doppelte Verneinung.

Beziehungen von S é tzen auf ein vorhergegangen es Wort.ppF ehlerhafter Cc

brauch des attributiven Adj ektivs . Beziehung des Substantivs auf das erste

Glied einer Zusammensetzung . Das Adverb in syntaktischer H in sicht. Syntaktische Verhaltn isse der Komparation . Miszbré uchliche Vertretung deseinfachen Pronomens . Kasuslehre : Nominativ und Akkusativ , Genetiv,Dativ und Akku sativ. Appos ition . Bedeutung 11nd Reaktion der Prapo sitionen . Abhangigkeit der Prapos ition von einem Verbalnomen . Haufungprapositionaler Beziehungsverhaltnisse . Syntax des Relativ s . RelativeAdverbia statt relativer Adj ektiva. Das pcrs é nlichc oder demon strativePronomen an statt des Relativ s . Das Relativ in der Beiordnung ti nd Unterordnung . Haufungen relativer F ii gungen . Relativsatze bloszcn S atzteilenbeigeordnet. Dem Relativsatz ein Hauptsatz beigeordnet. Relativsatz statt

Hauptsatz . Haufung und Verschlingung verschiedenartiger F iigungen imSatze. Logische V erhaltn isse. Wortstellung und Wortfolge. Undeutlichkeit 11nd Zweideutigkeit. Wohllaut des Ausdrucks , Verstéisze gegen dcn

selben . Reinheit in der Schriftsprache.—Regi ster.

Vollstz’

indig liegt vor

Deutsches Aus sprachew iirtcrbuch von ,Wilhelm V ictor,Profes sor an der U nivers itat Marburg . 1908—1912. 30176Bogen . Gr. Preis M. IZ. g eb . in Ganzleinen M. IS. ,SOin Halbleder M.

England. Seine Geschichte, V erfas sung und staatlichenEinrichtungen von Dr. G. Wendt, Profes sor an der Oberreals chule in Hamburg . Vierte Auflag e. 19 12. 24% Bog en . Gr.

M. 6 . g ebunden M.

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Glish and Germani Philology - Forgotten Books