On the evening of 13 May 1921 André Gide spent an hour with Marcel Proust, apparently for the first time in several years. For the past four days Proust had sent a car and chauffeur to fetch Gide every evening. Finally on the night when the latter could come, the invalid who had not been up in some time, had dressed to go out. The meeting took place in the little salon at 44, rue Hamelin, with its hideous Barbedienne bronze on the mantel and the Jacques Blanche portrait of the foppish young Marcel on the next wall. To one the atmosphere seemed stifling, but the other, having just left a still warmer room, was shivering.

Joseph Conrad's Mss provide a curiously intimate link with the personal life of their author. Among other things, the reader may note that Conrad was a smoker, that he had had drawing lessons at some period in his life, that he was on occasion worried about money, and that he was not averse to a refreshing glass. But the greatest importance of his MSS is that they tempt surmises about his creative rather than his personal life. It is lucky that Mr. John Quinn and other collectors were not discouraged by the fact that the holographs were anything but fair copies. The MSS they have preserved contain a full scale of revision offering an unusual opportunity to observe how a narrative art came into being. Conrad says much in his letters of how slow and painful the creative process was for him. His MSS confirm this, not so much by the inordinate amount of revision as by the fact that they show little evidence of pages thrown away or of imaginative lungings. In Almayer's Folly and An Outcast of the Islands, they suggest an obstinate effort at total recall of scenes and situations that the author had either witnessed or believed he had witnessed. One feels that he was the slave as well as the master of his creations. When he put something on paper, it took on the objectivity of fact for him. He could serve such facts, but he could not alter them.

In the following article I shall describe the circumstances in which Meredith wrote Evan Harrington as a serial for Once a Week, and I shall-submit some suggestions about the effect of this mode of publication upon the novel.

When Byron entered Ravenna for the first time on June 10, 1819, roiling up to the Porta Sisi in his heavy Napoleonic carriage, he was weary from the long journey across the flat Romagna plain and distraught by conflicting emotions concerning his liaison with the young Countess Teresa Guiccioli.1 Only a short while out of a convent and married to a man three times her age, she was highly impressionable and her emotions had been quickly engaged by the handsome and diffident English poet whom she had met at a conversazione in Venice in April. Indeed Byron and the Countess had arranged their affair so well that not only was the sixty-year-old husband cuckolded, but, much more surprising to Byron, he and Teresa had formed a sincere mutual attachment. Now that Count Guiccioli, reputed to be the wealthiest man in the Romagna, had carried his wife back to his palace in Ravenna, Byron, reflecting on this new love that had come so suddenly, found it a little disconcerting. Having had his emotions involved so often where his mind could not give full assent, he could not at first adjust himself to the idea—though he felt it deeply enough—that this affair was different. So that when Teresa wrote that she was ill and urgently requested him to come, he hesitated and delayed, not so much from fear of a stiletto in his back (though he dramatized that possibility in his letters to his friends—-and it was a real one so far as he knew) as from reluctance to subside into a regular cavalier servente. Writing to Hob-house on May 17, 1819, he said:

You though most curious in other things, will hardly be perswaded to touch any thing that smells of the Coffin or of Embalming.“ ”The Haters of Funerals“ to whom John Dunton addressed these words in 16821 would seem to include scholars, for the beginnings of the modern trade of funeral undertaking have never been investigated. This paper attempts to fill in some measure this gap in social history, and as a corollary to explain the novelty, timeliness, justice, and development of Steele's satire on undertakers in The Funeral and The Taller.

Two recent studies have analyzed the manner in which Calderôn utilized proverbs. It is hoped that the following catchword list locating proverbs in his plays will throw additional light on the dramatist's extensive use of such material:

Just three centuries ago, in January, 1649, thirteen days before the execution of King Charles, his Lord Lieutenant in Ireland, the Marquis of Ormond, proclaimed a peace with the Catholic Confederacy of Kilkenny which seemed to promise ultimate virtual independence for the Irish, subject only to a tenuous loyalty to the English crown. The promise was fallacious, for both Ormond and Charles were bargaining for Irish support with pledges that they hoped never to have to keep. At the height of the Irish negotiations, in November, 1648, Charles had professed to the commissioners of Parliament that he disapproved of Ormond's work, and had even offered to “publish such a declaration against his power and proceedings” as Parliament might desire.1 But the treaty was ratified and when Ormond proclaimed Charles II in Ireland, its terms became a matter of practical politics, if not as the immediate basis of a working constitution for a free kingdom, then at least as incentives for the Kilkenny Confederates to put their forces into the field for Charles in Ireland, and perhaps ultimately in England also. One of Parliament's first measures of defense was to order Milton to prepare them and three other highly relevant documents for publication in the form of the pamphlet that was printed by Matthew Simmons in Alders-gate Street and published on or before 16 May 1649, under the title: Articles of Peace, made and concluded with the Irish Rebels, and Papists, by James Earle of Ormond, for and in behalfe of the late King, and by vertue of his autoritie. Also a Letter sent by Ormond to Col. Jones, Governour of Dublin, with his Answer thereunto. And A Representation of the Scotch Presbytery at Belfast in Ireland. Upon all which are added Observations. Publisht by Autority.

In his preface to The Anatomy of Melancholy, Robert Burton acknowledges the wide diversity of taste in a reading audience and suggests that there are those who desire “a fine frontispiece, enticing pictures.” In the third edition of 1628, there appeared a frontispiece engraved by one Christian Le Blon, little known except for his contribution to the Anatomy. Le Blon's work was probably directed by Burton, for the engravings suggest a detailed knowledge of Burton's text and of the relationship which certain birds, beasts, herbs, and planets bore to the very prevalent disease of melancholy. The frontispiece contains ten “enticing pictures”, and centered within their rectangular mass is the title-page of the two earlier editions; the only significant change in the title-page is in motto—from Macrobius's Omne meum, Nihil meum to Horace's Omne tulit punclum, qui miscuit utile dulci. Burton finds the latter more complimentary to his life's work; he asserts at the beginning of the third partition that his “earnest intent is as much to profit as to please.”

There are dissenters, but scholarly opinion now generally agrees that The First part of the Contention betwixt the two famous Houses of Yorke and Lancaster is a “Bad Quarto”, a reportorial version of Henry VI, Part 2. Most authorities likewise agree that The Contention is a memorial reproduction rather than a product of stenography. But on the question of who did the reporting, whose memory is behind the Q., there is little agreement. Peter Alexander, who devoted most attention to the problem of the reporter's identity, suggests that the pirates were two principal actors, one of whom played the part of Warwick while the other doubled as Suffolk and Clifford. Alfred Hart believes, however, that “the evidence for Suffolk and Warwick as the reporter of Contention is rather weak”, and C. A. Greer, while doubting that the play is a Bad Quarto, argues that these two actors could not have been the reporters because of the “stupidity” evidenced in their rôles. Chambers tentatively proposes the person who played the Citizen in iv, v, but prefers the theory that the bookkeeper was responsible for the reporting.1 It is the purpose of this paper to ascertain what data are available for determining the identity of the reporter, examine the claims of candidates in the field, and suggest another possibility.

Professor Hurley's statement in regard to the use of assonance for consonance in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries holds true for the fifteenth century court lyric verse:1 “There are in the 16th and 17th centuries, if the printed texts are to be believed, innumerable examples of assonance in rime-strophes. Thus CERVANTES, Comedias y Entremeses, ed. Schevill y Bonilla, i, 72; ‘Yo haré con su señoría/que se oponga a tu partita’.”2 The same writer also states that he regards assonance in such cases “as failure to achieve perfect rime.” R. Foulché-Delbosc's Cancionero castellano del siglo XV offers some twelve score examples of assonance used to replace consonance. That the poets were at least sometimes conscious of the imperfection is shown in Gomez Manrrique's statement (ii, 36a): “Del qual vn poco furtado,/avnque no syn grande afan,/a vos, señor de Almaçan,/pregunto, mal consonando…”“”“

In what sequence to present the tales was one of the first problems which the editors of the Canterbury Tales had to face. Various orders were elaborated or improvised. The important ones are:11) the very bad order of the otherwise excellent Hengwrt MS. (Hg); 2) the much better one common to the Ellesmere MS. (El) and the MSS constituting group a;2 3 and 4) the two largely similar orders of group c and of MS. Har-leian 7334 (Ha4); and 5) that of group d reproduced unchanged in group b. For the reader's convenience I give here these five orders in the simplest possible form, i.e., without indicating the presence or absence of links: 1) Hg: ADB1 SqT MeT FkT SNT C1T CB2HI 2) a and El: AB1DEFCB2GHI 3) c: A Gam B1 SqT D C1T MeT FkT GCB2HI 4) Ha4: A Gam B1DEFGCB2HI 5) d and b: A Gam B1 SqT MeT D C1T FkT GCB2HI

Although the lion plays a considerable rôle in Chrétien de Troyes' Chevalier au Lion, his function in the poem has traditionally attracted relatively little attention on the part of Arthurian scholars. Gaston Paris, in one of his notable articles on Chrétien, relegated the story of the noble beast to a footnote in which he said: “cette historiette … ne sert à rien dans le récit où Chrétien a jugé bon de l'insérer.”1Naturally enough, scholars who regard Yvain as a Celtic otherworld tale dressed up in French clothing, finding no close analog to the lion in Celtic lore, have paid little attention to him. And those who have con-cerned themselves with demonstrating that the source of the lion story was Latin or Greek have been interested more in the relation between Yvain's lion and that of Androcles (or some other one) than in his function in the poem. Those who have studied particularly the structure of the poem have attached more importance to the lion,2 but so far as I know no one has pointed out what seems to me to be his symbolic significance. Since Chrétien repeatedly said that he was concerned both with the “matière” and the “sens” of his romances,3 and as he called Yvain the roman du Chevalier au Lion,4 it seems reasonable to examine the poem in some detail and try to see if he attached more significance to the lion than modern scholarship has pointed out.

In his notable article on the Ancrene Riwle, Macaulay made the first attempt to classify the English MSS on the basis of their readings.1He divided them into two groups: (1) BVP, which share a number of additions, and (2) CTNG, in which these additions do not occur or occur only by insertion in a different hand. The “additions” of B, as Macaulay himself notes, are so-called only with reference to the currently known text of N. But he evidently regards them as additions also with reference to the original text; for after discussing in detail inconsistencies between B and the other group of MSS in two of these passages, he adds (p. 151) :

Considering this, and also the unanimity with which the whole number of passages is rejected by the other thirteenth century manuscripts, so far as their original texts are concerned, I am disposed to think that they may be regarded as interpolations generally, and that we must assume that CTNG, though much inferior in general correctness of text to B, yet represent a more original form in this respect.

In 1940 Miss Hope Emily Allen called attention to the relationship between The Tretyse of Loue and the Ancrene Riwle.1 The Tretyse of Loue, one of the six books printed at Caxton's press between the time of Caxton's death (c. 1491) and his successor Wynkyn de Worde's first book under his own name (Walter Hilton's Scale of Perfection, 1494),2 is a compilation of ten devotional tracts, from the first and longest of which it takes its name. This first piece, (1) The Tretyse of Loue proper, is an expansion and adaptation of Part vil of the Riwle,3 dealing with the nature and virtue of spiritual love. The (2) Meditation on the Hours of the Cross and (3) Remedies Against the Seven Deadly Sins belong with the Tretyse by virtue of their similar dedication to a very wealthy lady4 and by the borrowings from the Riwle found in the latter. After an intermediate conclusion which may mark the end of the original compilation, there follow seven shorter tracts on various subjects. They are (4) The Three Signs of True Love and Friendship, three pages of meditations on Christ's love; (5) The Branches of the Appletree, a mystical treatise which, because of its significance in connection with the origin and provenance of the compilation, is the particular subject of this discussion; (6) The Seven Signs of Jesus' Love; (7) An Exhortation by Faith, five pages of moral exhortation; (8) Nine Articles of Master Albert of Cologne; (9) Diverse Sayings of Saint Paul and Others; and (10) The Six Masters on Tribulation.

Thanks to subventions from the American Philosophical Society and the Johns Hopkins University, I was able to spend three months of the year 1948 in Copenhagen, where I checked against the originals (in the Great Royal Library) Julius Zupitza's readings from the A and B transcripts of Beowulf.1 In the following I report my findings, except for those cases where I have neither additions nor corrections to make. For convenience of reference I give my readings and comments by line of verse, not by MS. page and line.21 conform to Z's practice of giving the A and B readings in italics.

Though much of Rossetti's original poetry is now (temporarily) out of fashion, his success as a translator has never been questioned. His renderings of the Vita Nuova and the Early Italian Poets are standard, while his translations from Vil-lon, particularly the Ballad of Dead Ladies, will probably live as long as Villon's verses. Better than anyone else, perhaps, Rossetti shows the accuracy of the truism that only a poet can translate poetry.

“You have but fed on the roses and Iain in the lilies of life.” With this Swinburnian line Tennyson concludes the introductory section of Maud and turns to the lyrical development of the conflict for which preparation has been made. In its immediate context the statement is deliberately ambiguous, suggesting little more than that Maud has hitherto led a sheltered and luxurious life. Yet the announcement of the lily and rose motifs in this place is not without significance. Considered apart, the two flowers evoke a wealth of traditional symbolic meaning, traceable throughout English poetry from Chaucer on; placed in direct relation to each other as here, they create an added potential for dramatic interplay. That Tennyson understood and desired to exploit the dramatic uses to which symbols may be put becomes apparent on analysis of the conditions under which the lily and rose reoccur in subsequent passages of the narrative.

En un estudio previo sobre la “Fortuna lexicográfica de barroco” hubimos de observar que el Diccionario histórico de la Academia Española, en sus artículos barroco y barroquismo, aducía ejemplos del uso de esas voces en castellano, en la acepción de estilo en las artes, obtenidos en obras publicadas en Madrid en 1899 y en 1921 (1a edition en 1884) para barroco, y en 1909 para barroquismo.

Macktavelli's three comedies, Andria, Clizia, and Mandragola, are arranged in that order in the edition of Mazzoni and Casella; and that is the order of excellence in which all readers place them. Andria is a good translation of the Latin original, occasionally enlivened by semi-proverbial expressions and the like. It is perhaps hasty, since a few words are neglected. Possibly they were lacking in the text Machiavelli used, though I find them in one Italian sixteenth-century form.