There has recently been a pronounced turning toward the study of English syntax as a separate department of linguistics with its own technique. If, however, the study of English syntax is an attractive and fruitful field, it is too often a most bewildering and deceptive one. Aside from the external dangers of slipping off into irrelevant semantics or into morphology, there is an ever-present danger in the analysis and exposition of the strangely illogical fabric that holds our language together.

Though since the beginning of the twelfth century scholars have been wondering why Girard de Roussillon was so called, few and unsatisfactory answers have been found to that question. The redoubtable Girard, called in legend de Roussillon, has nothing to do, in history or in legend, with the province of France called Roussillon. The action of the chanson de geste which bears his name never takes place in that province, nor is he ever called its lord. Why, then, is he called de Roussillon?

Although the Joie de la Cort episode in Crestien's Erec has been the center of many a stormy controversy, no adequate explanation has been provided for two puzzling features—the significance of the title and the purpose of the mysterious horn on the stake. Critical discussions, however, have shown that the episode contains Celtic elements. Even so conservative a scholar as J. D. Bruce concedes that “Celtic parallels seem to establish the Celtic origin of the episode.” And Gaston Paris, F. Lot, Philipot, Bruce, and Gruffydd are among the notable critics who accept the Celtic derivation of Mabonagrain and other names. Professor Archer Taylor, too, has demonstrated that the motif of the vacant stake is characteristically Celtic. All this evidence indicates that we may find an explanation in Celtic tradition for the title and the horn.

En Général c'est l'amour courtois qui domine comme inspiration chez le noble baron Conon de Béthune. Né vers le milieu du douzième siècle, il devint régent de l'empire byzantin (qu'il avait aidé à fonder) en 1219, quelques mois avant sa mort. La chanson viii, dont il est question ici, semble avoir été écrite vers 1190. D'après le dernier éditeur, Axel Wallensköld, cette chanson ‘est remplie d'allusions obscures et écrite dans un langage singulièrement contourné.‘ Sans aucun doute le troisième couplet est la partie la plus difficile à expliquer de toute la poésie composée par Conon de Béthune. Malheureusement les explications fournies par Wallensköld dans ses deux éditions (Helsingfors en 1891 comme thèse et Paris en 1921) n'ajoutent presque rien à ce qu'on savait auparavant de ces huit vers.

The end of the fourteenth century, when Geoffrey Chaucer wrote, was one of the periods of great accomplishment in English literature. Chaucer did not stand alone. Wiclif's prose, the admirable poetry that Gower composed in three languages, and the powerful satiric verse of Piers Plowman give ample evidence of this. Among the poets of the time no one except Chaucer was greater than the author of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and The Pearl, whose name and personality are still unknown. Though a learned man of the world like Chaucer, he wrote in the dialect of northwestern England rather than of London, which must have seemed difficult to most readers even in his own time. Why he chose such an obscure dialect has never been understood. The writer of this paper calls attention to the eloquent defence of his native speech that Dante made in his Convivio, and suggests that the Gawain poet may have been inspired by it to do for his own dialect what the great Italian had done for Tuscan.

In der Bibliothek der Yale-Universität befindet sich eine wertvolle Sammlung lateinischer, skandinavischer und deutscher Handschriften, die zum Teil von der Bibliothek des Grafen Riant herrührt. Im ersten Teil des diese Bibliothek beschreibenden Katalogs wird auch des Codex 2472 Erwähnung getan, einer Handschrift, die anlässlich der Tagung der MLA 1932 zur Schau gestellt war. Sie besteht aus 401 nicht numerierten Blättern, ist zweispaltig geschrieben und enthält im Hauptteil die Revelationes Sanctae Birgittae. Der Schriftraum ist nicht liniert und enthält zwischen 25 und 38 Zeilen. Die Blattgrösse ist 33×26 cm. Die Anfangsbuchstaben der einzelnen Kapitel sind grosse, verzierte Initialen. Die ganze Hs. ist von einer einzigen Hand in gotischen, manchmal ins Kursive übergehenden Minuskeln sorgfältig und sauber geschrieben. Leider fehlen die ersten zwei Seiten, einschliesslich des Titelblattes. Gegen das Ende der Hs., nach dem Ende des letzten Kapitels (… emisit spiritum Explicit liber ultimus celestis revelationum dei btē Birgitte principesse Nerecie de regno Suedie … revelatus Deo graciacz:—) beginnt, von derselben Hand geschrieben, eine kurze Lebensgeschichte Birgittas in spätmhd. Sprache (2 Seiten), gefolgt von 2 lateinischen Gebeten (2 Seiten: inc. O amatissima x±i sponsa—expl. in celis; inc. Felix regnicola—exl. mentibus exequantur per d$nMm n$rMm i$hMm $xMm) und einem deutschen Gebet (2 Seiten). Auf der letzten Seite der Hs. steht ein lateinischer, gereimter Hymnus (Salue decus feminarum/Gemma lucens matronarum …), der jedoch nicht vollendet ist. Die dazugehörigen Seiten gingen wohl, wie so oft, beim Binden verloren. Diesem Hymnus liegt wohl der siebenteilige Plan zugrunde, mit dem er eingeleitet wird (Hec orō habet septem partes De ortu et origine eius De desponsacione eiucz De austeritate vite eius De viduitate eiucz De peregrinacione eius De infirmitate et morte De ipsius commendacione) und der auch auf den deutschen Teil Anwendung finden kann. Über die Klassifizierung dieser Handschrift und ihre Geschichte ist nichts bekannt. Man weiss nur, dass Graf Riant mit schwedischen Buchliebhabern in regem Verkehr stand und viele Handschriften aus Schweden kaufte. Bezüglich ihrer noch weiter zurückreichenden Geschichte kann man nur die allgemeine Vermutung aufstellen, dass sie, da ihr deutscher Ursprung durch vorliegende Arbeit als bewiesen gelten kann, während der Wirren des Dreissigjährigen Krieges durch die an ihrer Nationalheiligen interessierten schwedischen Krieger aus einem der zahlreichen Birgittenklöster nach Schweden kam. Man könnte dabei an das Schicksal des Codex Argenteus denken. Auch die Oxforder Benediktinerregel erfuhr ein ähnliches Schicksal und wanderte vom Rheinland nach England. Auch darüber werden wir vorläufig im Unklaren bleiben müssen, in welchem Zusammenhange diese Hs. mit den Übersetzungen des Matthias, Petrus Olavus von Skänninge und des Alfonsus steht. Jedenfalls besteht kein Zusammenhang zwischen unserer Hs. und den zahlreichen, bis jetzt erfassten und in Europa liegenden Handschriften. Ein Rückschluss vom lateinischen Teil auf den deutschen, der zur Lösung unserer Fragen viel beitragen könnte, ist also unmöglich. Wir werden die zwar seltene, aber gerade deshalb interessantere Aufgabe vor uns haben, vom deutschen Teil aus auf den lateinischen zu schliessen und damit auch zur Bestimmung der lateinischen Bestandteile beizutragen. So soll also die Dialektbestimmung nicht nur Selbstzweck sein, sondern auch Mittel zum Zweck.

For in this processe Parrot nothing hath surmysed, No matter pretendyd, nor nothyng enterprysed, But that metaphora, allegoria with all, Shall be his protectyon, his pauys, and his wall. (ll. 205–208) THE wall of metaphor and allegory that Skelton built around his Parrot perhaps served to keep off the pursuivants of his archenemy, Cardinal Wolsey; certainly it has proved a formidable obstacle to the comprehension of the reader of today. The Reverend Alexander Dyce, to whom we are indebted for what is still the only edition of Skelton's poems deriving directly from the sources, provides illuminating notes to scattered passages in Speak, Parrot, but admits his inability to make the whole intelligible. Friedrich Brie, whose learned Skelton Studien has contributed much to our knowledge of the poet, omits the troublesome Parrot altogether from his consideration except for a short note on the question of date. Koelbing essays merely to sketch its general structure with but occasional specific reference. The only reasoned attempt at clearing the confusion of the satire is that of Professor Berdan in Speke, Parrot, An Interpretation of Skelton's Satire.

Literary historians of the French Renaissance have long since conceded to Camille de Morel a place of distinction among the learned women of her time. Nor is this an empty honor in a century which, following the example of the Italian Renaissance, produced a goodly number of women whose thorough humanistic training and literary accomplishments have aroused the admiration of succeeding generations. The complete story of Camille de Morel, however, has never been told. She has been too lavishly praised by some and neglected by others, and it is only through diligent examination of the many traces which she left in sixteenth-century French literature that one can come to know her true nature and appreciate her learning while pardoning her shortcomings.

That Henry Lawes set to music a version of Shakespeare's Sonnet cxvi “Let me not to the marriage of true mindes/Admit impediments,” has apparently never been mentioned in print. Lawes' version, which retains seven lines intact, alters seven, and adds two couplets to form three six-line stanzas, is found in John Gamble's commonplace book of songs. This volume was formerly the property of Dr. Edward F. Rimbault, but is now in the Drexel Collection of the New York City Public Library.

A bibliography of restoration drama is much needed, and it is to be hoped that either Professor Allardyce Nicoli or Mr. Montague Summers will fulfil his promise to give us one. The advertisements in newspapers concerning the publication of plays are invaluable raw material for such a bibliography. Writers on, and editors of, individual dramatists have occasionally made use of them, but the great mass of advertisements has remained uncollected and unsought after. I have thoroughly searched the Burney Collection of newspapers in the British Museum and extracted therefrom announcements of the publication of plays. I have confined myself to plays or songs from individual plays, leaving out of account books on the drama or collections of songs in which no specific play is mentioned.

For a man contemporary with Addison, Swift, and Pope, men quite near to us through personal letters and biographies, Congreve remains peculiarly apart and obscure. To get at his personality, more attention should be given to his letters. These, unfortunately, have not been preserved in large numbers; and the disorder in which the extant letters have remained has misled every biographer and brought about misinterpretations. Arranged in proper order, the letters clear up obscure references and give insight into the character of the writer. They deserve more careful study than they have hitherto received from biographers who have attempted to gain, and have despaired of gaining, an intimate knowledge of our wittiest dramatist.

Practically no attention has hitherto been paid to the incidents of the publication of Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, perhaps on the assumption that once this publication was mentioned, everything pertinent had been said. Mrs. Stanhope, in her preface to the first edition, asserted that the letters were genuine, and that she had in her possession all of the originals. So much she told the public; how it was that she came to arrange for the publication of these letters and under what circumstances they were presented to the world were not told, and have been only imperfectly understood. References to the subject have been not only scattered and incomplete, but even at times inaccurate. Yet it is still possible to present most of the story.

History offers many examples of individuals who have occupied the center of the stage during their life-time, only to be forgotten by posterity; but in modern times few writers have risen so high, and then sunk so completely out of sight, as did the abbé Corneille de Pauw. From 1768, when his first work appeared, until the outbreak of the French Revolution, he stood in the very center of cultural discussions in Europe. Learned societies and academies devoted whole sessions to arguments over his theories; he provoked controversies which not only stirred up all Europe, but extended to China and America. His books passed through edition after edition, and were translated from the original French into English, Dutch, and German. Yet today few people have heard of him, and his name is in only the largest encyclopedias.

Horace Walpole was never behind in matters of current gossip; he wrote to the Countess of Upper Ossory on July 7, 1775: Pray, Madam, have you read the Correspondents? I never heard of the book till two days ago. I think one cannot doubt the letters being genuine; but who has been so cruel as to publish them? and yet, except a little weakness, and it is very little to have but a little, there is nothing that can reflect but on the publishers … it appears by the letters that the authors were much afraid of their being seen, though more goodness of heart appears than anything else. Merciful! if all the foolish things one writes in confidence were to be recorded!

As a translator of English Ludwig Tieck has been inseparably linked for a hundred years, in the popular mind, with August Wilhelm Schlegel as the co-translator and editor of the most renowned German translation of Shakespeare's dramas. Though scholars have long realized that he did practically none of the translating, widespread misconceptions about his connection with the undertaking still prevail. Moreover, most writers on the literary relations of Germany and England during the period from 1790 to 1850—the “classical” period of these relations—seem to have but a sketchy knowledge of his actual achievements as a translator of English literature. It is the purpose of this paper to examine more closely, and to give at least an exhaustive outline of, his activities in this field. In particular, attention will be paid to those of his translations from English which have hitherto been quite neglected.

Through their reading of English Traits and of the Journals, students of Ralph Waldo Emerson are aware that he visited England on three occasions and that on his second trip he delivered some lectures there. But few, perhaps, realize the extent of his speaking tour in England and Scotland in 1847–48. Emerson was modest concerning his accomplishments, or at least chose not to regard them as feats worthy of ample recording. His references to his lecturing abroad are casual and fragmentary. Cabot, in the authorized biography, A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson, does little to fill in the details, and his chronological list of Emerson's lectures and addresses, incomplete even where speaking engagements in America are concerned, is still more sketchy in its treatment of the British lecture tour. Only through a detailed chronology can a realization of the magnitude of the undertaking be obtained. The following table of lectures and of places where they were given attempts to supply the means for a fuller appreciation of the scope and importance of the venture.

Examination discloses numerous types of repetition in the volumes of A la Recherche du Temps Perdu. Such cases include not only the various kinds of deliberate reiteration artfully employed by Proust, but also a number of duplications of material apparently not intended to remain in a definitive text. In some instances there may be doubt as to the author's designs. It is proposed, therefore, to present only those examples of involuntary recurrence providing sufficient verbal conformity to obviate controversy as to Proust's ultimate intentions, and to submit certain conclusions based upon the data.

In American poetry written since the World War one of the most significant new developments is now seen to be the fascination which animal life holds for the poet. In American periodicals during the last fifteen years, 236 writers have been publishing earnest and philosophical poems about animals. In 1933 and 1934 the newest poets—Frederick Prokosch, Frances Frost, Marie Welch, Audrey Wurdemann, Joseph Auslander, Laura Benét, and above all Robert Tristram Coffin—were writing of little else. And practically every one in the older groups, whether traditional or radical, simple or esoteric, has written occasional poems about them. Notably Robert Frost, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Elinor Wylie, Hart Crane, Robinson Jeffers, Padriac Colum, and D. H. Lawrence have dealt with the subject repeatedly.

(Read under the title “Main Types of Literaturwissenschaft: A Critical Survey and a New Approach,” at the Fifty-first Annual Meeting, in Philadelphia, 1934. —Ed.) A MODERN humanism would be a mode of life controlled by an active aspiration to adjust present conditions to the highest interests and values of personality. It would be three-fold, involving (1) the physical-biological organism, (2) the powers finding expression in letters and the arts, and (3) the social, ethical, religious, political and economic beliefs, theories, interests, and circumstances by which personality is affected. The principle of integral unity—which is the central theme of this essay and the ultimate measure of the reality, validity, and value pertaining to the ideal of humanity here projected—demands an unremitting endeavor to combine and harmonize those three main parts of personal being. Culture is an ultimate personal unity of values.