Members of the Association are requested to see that copies of monographs, studies or dissertations in the field of the Modern Language which may be printed privately or in University series during the current year be sent to the editor of the appropriate section of the American Bibliography.

It cannot be denied that the personages in Browning's great poem, The Ring and the Book, are of the poet's own making, and he himself would have been the first to acknowledge them as his own creatures. On the other hand, his repeated assertions that, in mingling his fancy with the material derived from the Old Yellow Book, he has not misinterpreted the facts contained in his source, and the insistence upon the poet's historical fidelity by the editor of the “Book” and other critics, have been regarded with suspicion. Indeed, the question has recently been raised whether The Ring and the Book is not a glorious misinterpretation of The Old Yellow Book.

Of Della Casa's life (1503-1556), little need here be said. Brought up in Florence and educated at Bologna, at first he showed, though a keen student, more interest in the amusements than in the serious things of life. In his middle twenties he went to Rome, where he continued his study of the classics and developed still further his aptitude for gaiety. A taste for high life and for classic study led inevitably to the church: at the age of thirty-one he definitely embarked on an ecclesiastical career, held various offices and commissions under different popes, and divided his time between Venice, Florence, and Rome. Towards the end of his life he became secretary of state to Paul IV, but was never made a cardinal. He was always interested in letters, was a member of various academies both gay and learned, and wrote much both in Latin and Italian, prose and verse.

Last summer I undertook a systematic examination of the Registers of the London parish of St. Botolph Aldgate, in the hope that they might yield some new material in regard to the members of the Elizabethan acting companies. The Registers of this parish seemed worth the combing for several reasons. In the first place, within the limits of St. Botolph, along its western boundary, lay Houndsditch, which was tenanted by pawn-brokers and dealers in cast-off clothing, just such gentry as might attract the patronage of indigent players who were called upon to supply their own wardrobes. Houndsditch, in turn, led directly to Bishopsgate. The proximity of this district to Aldgate supplied another reason for searching the records of St. Botolph's, inasmuch as Elizabethan actors were likely to establish themselves in the neighborhood of their employment; and in and about Bishopsgate stood several playhouses: on Bishopsgate Street proper stood the Bull Inn (1575-1590); and on Gracious [Gracechurch] Street, the Bell Inn (1560-1576) and the Cross Keys (1588-1596). Or, following Bishopsgate to its northern end, one arrived within short distance at Shoreditch with its famous Theatre (1576-1599) and Curtain (1577-1634?). Nor were these neighboring playhouses the only ones which might have attracted actors to St. Botolph's. At least one theatre, the Boar's Head, existed within the confines of the Aldgate district. The exact location of this playhouse (or converted inn) is open to doubt, but whether it was within or without the Bars, the Boar's Head was clearly on Aldgate High Street and well within the parish of St. Botolph.

The so-called formal dialogue constituted between the years 1640 and 1700 a substantial part of ephemeral as well as serious literature. Like the present-day dialogue of fiction and of the stage, it was only approximately natural, and to a varying degree. In modern novels or in popular “talky” plays it is not hard to find passages which neither advance the plot nor build characterization, and wherein the interest is emphatically centered on the topics discussed. Yet, as every one recognizes, important changes in taste have taken place since the days of the formal dialogue. Disputations no longer hold their former sway in college and university. Other methods are now employed for discussing problems of politics, of religion, of philosophy, of science, which were once commonly argued in the formal dialogue. It is my purpose to show, through the consideration of some of the by-products of the dialogue in the day of its vogue, that its popularity was occasioned by a controversial or dialoguing spirit, and conversely that the form itself was largely responsible for the creation and continuance of this atmosphere of conflict.

The outstanding history of the Prussian Academy of Sciences has been written by Adolf Harnack in his Geschichte der Königlich Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, a monumental work which supersedes the earlier French account of Christian Bartholmèss in every respect. But naturally Harnack, in his voluminous treatise, does not offer a connected narrative of the fortunes of the German language in the Academy throughout the two centuries of the existence of that body. This phase is dealt with continuously and brought nearer to date in an article by Gustav Roethe. Roethe, however, is interested chiefly in the modern Deutsche Kommission and considers the entire question from the point of view of this interest. The present paper aims to direct attention once more to the subject as a whole, in the belief that it constitutes in a sense a chapter in the history of the German language.

Many were the sources of Bodmer's Noah and by no means the least of these was Klopstock's Messias. In the present article I propose to consider certain phases of Bodmer's indebtedness to Klopstock's biblical epic, but at the same time I shall have occasion to consider also other aspects of Klopstock's influence.

That part of Wieland's Oberon which depicts the life of Hüon and Rezia on the island where they have been shipwrecked differs so essentially in tone, background, motivation, and thought from the rest of the poem as to constitute almost a separate entity. The ideas which the author here expresses may seem inconsistent with the spirit of romantic adventure which characterizes this work in general. Nevertheless, this episode, covering a period of about three years, makes a distinct break in the succession of outward adventures, and turns the reader's attention to the development of the inward qualities of the castaways. This affords the author a fitting opportunity to introduce ideas dealing with man's return to a state of nature, with nature herself, and with the mystic merging of heaven and earth in the soul of man. It is with these ideas and the contrast which they present to the rest of the poem that this paper is concerned.

In a letter from William Taylor of Norwich to Robert Southey, is to be found perhaps the earliest trustworthy clue to the date of Borrow's first acquaintance with the German language. Writing on March 12th, 1821, Taylor, whose name will probably survive because of his relation to Borrow, says:

The relationship between Emerson and Wordsworth, or rather the influence of Wordsworth upon Emerson, needs to be defined. There is a nebulous impression of close kinship between the two, particularly in their views concerning nature. Since Wordsworth's more original and potent verse had been written before 1820, while Emerson's earliest significant address was delivered in 1837 and his earliest significant essay was printed in 1836, we are apt to assume that Wordsworth exerted an important influence upon the young Emerson in the 1830's. The assumption does not appear to be well founded as I shall attempt to demonstrate. During the years that followed his first efforts, Emerson's attitude grew successively friendly, enthusiastic, confident toward the Wordsworth he had formerly found interesting but blundering, admirable in intention but ludicrously incapable. It is not difficult to mark the very year in which the transition from very considerable disapproval to almost unbroken approval was completed.

One could not desire a better instance of the need of defining critical terms than is afforded by a comparison of Poe's and of Emerson's definition of art. Since Poe defined poetry as “the rhythmical creation of beauty,” he would necessarily have defined art in general as “the creation of beauty.” Now, although Emerson's view of art is in striking contrast with Poe's, he begins with these very words. In his first book, Nature, he says, “The creation of beauty is Art.” What does he mean?

Few literary critics have received such differing evaluation as James Russell Lowell. On the one hand are those who refuse to recognize in his criticism any permanent value. Professor J. J. Reilly concludes his three hundred page study of Lowell as follows: