Romance seldom stalks frank and undisguised. It wears the sober cloak of religion in the pious fictions of the saints and assumes the honest name of history in the inventions of chroniclers. Yet nowhere does it veil its face more darkly than in the pages of seemingly serious-minded biographers. That curious volume, recorded by Isaac D'Israeli, the Farfalloni degli Antichi Historici, might easily find its counterpart in our English literary apocrypha. The legalized narrative of Alfred's splendid foundation of the University of Oxford; Chaucer's life at the University and at Woodstock and his base betrayal of his friends; Shakespeare's intrigue with William Herbert's mistress; Milton's dream-meeting with the fair Italians under the Cambridge tree—all these have been themes of the legend maker. Now he who harks back to the earliest days of Old English prose and poetry will find disguised romance lurking everywhere. The philologist has often dragged it forth and stripped it of its pretences; but he has just as often connived at its rogueries. This connivance has been in the main unconscious, for the Anglist has been the dupe of his methods which have led him all unwitting into the very lap of legends. In his fallacies of false assumption, in his tame acquiescence in unfounded assertions that bear a certain stamp of authority and in his proneness to manipulate by argument data that he will be branded for doubting, the modern scholar is too often akin to the medieval schoolman. And so, in his last chapter, sly romance has its way with him.

The relation of Latin lyric poetry to the lyric poetry of the Romance peoples remains one of the interesting problems of medieval literature. It has already challenged the industry of generations of investigators with no definite result. And it may be doubted whether conclusions which are self-convincing will be reached in the immediate future. The chief hindrance to a satisfactory solution is presented, of course, by the incompleteness of relevant material. The examples of Latin lyrics which may be considered as expressive of natural emotion are few in number before the end of the eleventh century, and the poems of William IX are the first in Romance. There may be found here and there, to be sure, scattered hints of the existence of non-artistic poetry, whether in Latin or the vernacular, but the information so furnished by Latin writers is uncertain as well as meager. Widely different interpretations may be put on it. Contradictory theories find inconclusive support in it, further confusing an already perplexing problem. In view of all this doubt, and the difficulties with which the subject is still beset, it may not be unprofitable to go over the ground once more, and arrange the documents which allude to non-literary poetry, Latin or Romance, in their chronological order from the first century to the eleventh. While nothing new may be discovered from such a classification it will be useful to have at hand, grouped together, the texts from which the opposing factions draw their partisan arguments.

In the legend of St. Cecilia, not only as the Second Nun tells it, but also as it appears in the Legenda aurea and in Simeon Metaphrastes, an angel gives to Cecilia and Valerian (as everybody knows) two crowns:

Valerian goth hoom, and fint Cecilie
With-inne his chambre with an angel stonde;
This angel hadde of roses and of lilie
Corones two, the which he bar in honde;
And first to Cecile, as I understonde,
He yaf that oon, and after gan he take
That other to Valerian, hir make.
'With body clene and with unwemmed thoght
Kepeth ay wel thise corones' quod he;
'Fro Paradys to yow have I hem broght,
Ne never-mo ne shal they roten be,
Ne lese her sote savour, trusteth me;
Ne never wight shal seen hem with his yë,
But he be chaast and hate vileinyë.

The heroes of the novels of the Abbé Prevost present certain emotional states which are generally regarded as characteristic of the romantic school. Since these moods are not commonly supposed to have received literary expression until a later date, it may be worth while to point out the more striking among them. It is interesting to note the anticipation of some of the doctrines of Rousseau, and of the type of romantic rebel represented by Werther, René, and Childe Harold. Most of the following passages are from Cleveland, the novel which offers the greatest interest from this point of view. The others show the same tendencies, but in a less marked degree, and in a form less convenient for citation.

Revewers hav not accuratly appraisd my Etimology ov the Romance Words for To Go. Inasmuch as the article appeard in 1904 and contributions to the subject seem rather scarce nowadays, I propose to take up the subject again.

I will express no opinion ov Horning's essay. He merely refers to a detail ov my article in a foot-note. Elise Richter has lately written ov “the solution ov the andare problem, which Horning sturdily attacks and which he has eminently advanst.” Just how, she does not say. But we used to hear ov la question ambulare, point-blank; so somhow a little ground is being gaind, whoever gets the credit. Schuchardt seems to abandon his monogenetic scheme by admitting that his tipe ambitare may be connected with ambire rather than with ambulare.

In the Macro play of Mankind the central motive is the tilling of a piece of ground “To eschew ydulness,” a motive, as Dr. Brandl points out, foreign to all the other morality plays. According to him it is introduced from the “Ackerfeld motive” of Lydgate's Assembly of the Gods. “Für die Quellenfrage sind die Uebereinstimmungen zwischen ‘Mankind’ und Lydgate's ‘Assembly of Gods’ wichtig. Auch in dieser allegorischen Erzählung ist der Mensch (Freewill) auf einem Felde (Mikrokosmos) gedacht. Virtue eilt dahin um Gnade zu predigen. Aber auch Vice stellt sich ein und schickt zunächst drei Gesellen (Temptation, Folly, Sensuality) voraus, von denen einer das Feld mit Unkraut besät (nach Matthäus 13, 24 ff.). In Folge dessen muss in der Schlacht um den Menschen Virtue zurückweichen, Freewill neigt sich zu Vice und wird nur dadurch gerettet, dass Virtue verstärkt zurückkehrt, worauf er mit Gewissen, Vice aber mit Verzweiflung zusammenkommt (Triggs' Ausgabe, S. 28-34).”

This article will deal only with the phonology of the problem. By a careful study of the Spanish and French forms I hope to establish the correct etymologies of the important forms and to show that we must suppose for Vulgar Latin a form metīpsimus by the side of As I have said in my Studies in New Mexican Spanish, the majority of the explanations previously given for the various forms in Spanish and French, are curious rather than scientific. Gaston Paris (Extraits de la Chanson de Roland, § 18), Cornu (Rom. xiii, 289) and Menéndez Pidal (Gram. Hist., § 66), however, seem to have come to believe in a long vowel for some of the forms and rightly so. As to the numerous attempts made by others, it is only necessary to say, that in so far as the Spanish and French forms are concerned, every explanation which the writer has seen is either a traditional error or a new one. Such explanations as those of Baist (Grundriss, i, 887, and Krit. Jahrsb., i, 534), Cejad or (La Leng. de Cervantes, i, 739), Cuervo (Apuntaciones, § 777), Ford (Don Quixote, 93), Pieri (ZRPh., xxvii, 584) and others for the Spanish forms, and of Mussafia (Rom., xxviii, 112), Etzrodt (Rom. Forseh., xxvii, 878), Harseim (Boehmer Stud., iv, 287) and others for the French forms have little or no basis in fact and I need not refute them here.

It probably does not often happen that a worker in Latin and Greek addresses a body of workers in the modern languages, or the converse. But there is nothing unnatural in such a proceeding, and it ought indeed to be a common thing. We of the classics and you of the modern languages have the same convictions to maintain in the scheme of education,—first the conviction of the charm and civilizing power of great literature, and, second, the conviction of the interest and educational efficiency of literary-historical and linguistic science. The difference between us is purely one of chronology. We proceed by identical methods. We cultivate the same great field, and our respective holdings in that field overlap. We are natural friends, if either party has a friend. Our interests, in their large and final bearings, are identical. Classical studies cannot really flourish in a university in which they are looked upon with hostility 'by the teachers of modern languages. But neither will the study of modern languages, beyond the strictly vocational ideal, flourish permanently in any atmosphere in which, for any reason, classical studies are asphyxiated.