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Sir John Sandys' * contribution to the Cambridge History 
of English Literature, Vol. XII, deals with Scholars, Anti- 
quarians and Bibliographers of the Nineteenth Century. 
Much of it, of course, is contained in the author's History of 
Classical Scholarship, that indispensable repository, which it 
is not necessary to characterize at this late day (A. J. P. 
XXIX 499 ; XXXVI 244) ; and in this Brief Mention I am 
going to indulge in some personal reflections on the diverse 
ideals of English and German scholarship — a subject which 
was brought forward some time ago by the most brilliant 
English Hellenist of our day in a memorable article (Quar- 
terly Review, April, 1915), part of which has been quoted 
recently by the author himself in an interview with a per- 
sistent newspaper man. Book, article, and interview have 
aroused in me a host of memories, some of which it may be 
worth while to record here. 

Few are competent to enter into judgment in a matter like 
this. At all events comparatively few have undergone the 

'The mention of Sir John's name gives me an opportunity of intro- 
ducing as a footnote what was intended for a more conspicuous place 
and larger type. 

Under date of Aug. 27 Sir John Sandys writes : ' In the middle of p. 
234 you state that 'varied melody of the flute' is no translation, it is an 
exegesis of /3oo>< aiXav (O. 3. 8). The reader will naturally surmise 
that someone has offered these words as a translation of fioav avWv 
but if he takes the trouble to turn to my own rendering of Pindar's 
words <t>6piiiyyd re iroiKi\6yapvp ko! j3ooj< aiXav inibiv re Ottuv he will 
find these phrases represented by ' the varied melody of the lyre and 
the air played by the flute <or rather as the printed copy has it 'the air 
played on the flutes ' > with the setting of the verse < s > '. He will thus 
discover that so far from 'the varied melody' being a paraphrase of 
/Soil-, it is really a very close rendering of TtoiKChoyapw and that it is 
only by combining part of my first phrase and part of my second that 
the imaginary rendering of fioav ab\u>v is obtained.' 

Too true. The curious 'telescoping' of my notes on Sir John's trans- 
lation — due first to careless transcription and then to hasty proofread- 
ing—has done him great injustice. Only his name was not mentioned. 
'Varied melody of the lyre' is indeed a close rendering but I still 
prefer Myers' 'the flute's cry' to Sir John's 'air played by the flute' 
or ' air played on the flutes ', which is a manner of paraphrase, \vpav . . . 
fioai, P. 10, 39, is, I confess, a harder problem, which Sandys has met 
by the colorless ' sounds of the lyre ' and Myers by ignoring the trouble- 
some words after the example of the etcher Meryon. 


discipline of both countries. In my year at Bonn (1852-53) 
I encountered two Scotchmen, who were taking what is called 
on the Stock Exchange a ' flyer ' at German methods in their 
long vacation, but a semester here and a semester there do not 
suffice ; and it is not a little noteworthy that those who are 
really indoctrinated in German ways are apt to lose the un- 
deniable charm of the best exemplars of English scholarship. 
There are possibly those who have not forgotten what 
Churton Collins had to say about a certain Anglicist who had 
become saturated with the German atmosphere. My own 
testimony is worth very little because such philological school- 
ing as I have had is wholly Teutonic. I was ' udum et molle 
lutum ' when I went to Germany in my nineteenth year, or 
rather I might say of myself in 1850 as a French mother is 
reported to have said of her son when she sought a place for 
him in one of the ministries. ' II est propre a tout. II n'a rien 
appris '. To be sure, I had read a great deal of Latin, some 
little Greek, but my American teachers did not understand 
their business, and if I had had such instruction as is available 
in not a few American colleges to-day, I should have been 
spared a great deal of fumbling. Brought up in old-fashioned 
ways and in an old-fashioned environment, which might 
almost be called ' colonial ', I had been taught or at all events 
had conceived a profound admiration of English scholarship, 
especially in its lighter manifestations ; and I remember as a 
lad not yet in my teens copying from an old number of 
Dennie's Portfolio one of Porson's facetious contributions to 
the Morning Post I think it was — a translation into Greek 
iambics of ' Three children sliding on the ice ' which purported 
to be a newly discovered fragment of a Greek play. 

Among the first philological books I owned was the well- 
known collection of Porsoniana in four volumes containing 
Porson's Preface to the Hecuba, his edition of the Plutus and 
his Photius. But as I grew up, I found that the authors of all 
the great dictionaries, the great grammars, the great works of 
reference bore German names and, when at the age of six- 
teen I began in earnest the study of German, there was an 
end of any deference to English scholarship ; and afterwards 
as a student in Germany from 1850 to 1853, I learned to imi- 
tate my masters, who all, or nearly all, were supercilious in 
their bearing toward contemporary English classicists. Every 
now and then, they said, England gives birth to some great 
genius, such as Bentley, such as in a lesser degree Porson. 
Dobraeus was admired in Germany even more than Dobree 
in England. One heard of old Dawes as Davesius and of his 


exploded ' canon Davesianus '. Sometimes a professor would 
make a stagger at pronouncing the name of Thomas Tyrwhitt, 
and I remember how Boeckh, who tried to be fair to the 
English, wrestled with the name of Sir George Cornewall 
Lewis and wound up by writing it on the blackboard. Few 
of the German classical scholars of my day even pretended to 
know English and I have had to act as interpreter of English 
announcements of important discoveries, such as Babington's 
Hypereides. Things are very different to-day, and Americans 
have contributed to the difference, but even now the average 
German classicist does not know English as does the average 
German business man. The subtleties of the language are lost 
on them and their mistakes would form an amusing chapter 
in the history of errors. But in the fifties an American 
Anglomaniac was a rarity and the German attitude towards 
English scholars gave no offence to the patriotic American 
neophyte, for I was brought up on the memories of my revo- 
lutionary ancestors. I bore a deep-seated hereditary grudge 
against those whose forbears were responsible for the ex- 
pulsion of the Acadians, the sufferings of Valley Forge, 
the burning of Norwalk, the insolent behaviour of British 
officers during the occupation of Charleston, and I was quite 
ready to be impressed by the judgments of my German 
masters. Now nothing is more contagious than the sneering 
habit and in no set of men does that cheap assertion of supe- 
riority exhibit itself in more repulsive form than in your 
fledgling Ph. D's. ' Fledgling ' is the English word, but ' gelb- 
schnabel ' and 'bejaune ' are much better because they express 
the aggressiveness of the callow youngster's beak. Of this 
second-hand superiority I myself have builded a monument in 
my maiden review article 'The Necessity of the Classics' 
(Southern Quarterly Review, July, 1854) in which I under- 
took to criticize English scholarship and English methods of 
instruction in the classics. In my collectanea it is among the 
'juvenilia', and marked 'not to be reproduced', but nearly 
nine times seven years have passed since then and I have been 
made over several times, so that I am tempted to quote a verse 
of Theognis that has been much in my mind during a heated 
political campaign — /cp«row toi tro<^t'r/ yiverai arpoirirp, 'better 
proves wisdom, sure, than changelessness ', and I do not 
hesitate to execute my old 'bejan' self in illustration of my 
theme. Here then is a small specimen : 

To some of the secluded scholars of our Southern country, who de- 
vote much of their abundant leisure to the perusal of the classics, and 
collect Aldines, Juntines and Elzevirs with bibliomaniac zeal, England 
may still seem to be the Gilead whence the balm must come. But 
England has never had a philology. The scholars who arose from her 
soil were of foreign seed. The dragon's teeth brought forth a strange 


race. Bentley lived a century too soon, and England laughed at the 
new Aristarchus as she cheered glory-and-shame Porson, not knowing 
what she did. It is sad to look at the full-length caricature of Bentley, 
which Pope has drawn, with such malicious distortion, in his Dunciad, 
and to reflect upon the uniform fate of all those great men who have 
been sent to that ungrateful people. But a just punishment has over- 
taken them. Their philological worthies have no national existence 
and form no national school. The type of their educationists is Dr. 
Busby, and the type of their scholars Dr. Parr. It is astonishing with 
what vehement obstinacy, so to speak, England prides herself upon the 
mere negative merit of keeping her quantity void of offence. In no 
country on the globe has so much turmoil been made about the fact 
that scholars know the right hand from the left, and leave Priscian's 
head unbroken. The most earless nation on earth, a nation which has 
produced no music, except those simple strains which, like currents of 
electricity, run round the whole globe, which cannot show a single com- 
poser of real eminence, prides itself upon an accuracy for which there 
is no parallel save that of a deaf musician. The whole world must be 
pestered with the information, that the British Senate knew that the 
penult of vectigal is long, and that Cambridge was aware that the pe- 
nult of profugus is short : and these stories are hawked about wher- 
ever the English language is spoken, and every lad in the rudiments 
learns to sneer at Paley's quantity * and triumph over Pitt's short syllable 
in labenti. Every article on America contains some gibe at our unfor- 
tunate proclivity to Polish perversions. 2 Even men who should know 
better, lay stress on the mechanical accomplishment of making verses. 

The same Bulwer who, in ' Pelham ', laughed at the facility with which 
he could turn off Latin verses, compared with his other deficiencies, in 
' The Caxtons ' throws a slur on German erudition by contrasting Dr. 
Hermann's eulogy of Pisistratus' ode with the parody of Mr. Caxton. 

Classical education in England has been, for long years, one huge 
polypus of verse-making, an exercise which, however useful, still 
stands, in a pedagogical point of view, far behind the exercise of 
writing prose, not so much on account of the disproportion in numbers 
between those who possess the faculty divine and those who do not. 
as because vapidity and inanity cannot conceal themselves so well on 
the plain ground of the pedestris oratio, as in the flight of znanser 
inter olores, nor loose syntax and careless construction shelter them- 
selves behind the convenient plea of poetic license. "Long reading 
and observing, copious invention and ripe judgment," may enable a 
Hermann to reproduce Schiller in Greek or a Ritschl to supply the 
lacunae in Plautus ; but, as Milton concludes, "these are not matters 
to be wrung from poor striplings, like blood out of the nose or the 
plucking of untimely fruit." And yet, after all their true British boast- 
ing, the schools of England must be very defective in the matter of 
classical training, if we may judge by recent disclosures. Scholars 
who ignore Greek accents and are unacquainted with the composition 
of words of frequent occurrence and evident structure, are strangely 
misnamed. . We, for our part, would apply in their favour the educa- 
tional observation of the worthy South : "Stripes and blows are the 
last and basest remedy, and scarce ever fit to be used but upon such as 
carry their brains in their backs, and have souls so dull and stupid as 
to serve for very little else but to keep their bodies from putrefaction." 

'The Paley meant here is, of course, the Natural Theology man, against whom I 
had a grievance. Pitt's lgbenti reminds me of 'labitur atque la'betur', which ap- 
peared on a medal struck in honor of the Philological Congress at Hamburg some 
years ago. My informant, an eminent British scholar, did not fail to point the 

2 Nos Poloni non curamus quantitatem syllabarum. 


All this is pitifully young, but I proceeded to fortify my posi- 
tion from contemporary English confessions as to the in- 
adequacy of English scholarship in certain lines; and since 
then the English have followed the German lead in methods 
of research, though in results Krahwinkel beats Oxford and 
Cambridge. On the other hand German thinkers have learned 
to value the processes by which the classics have penetrated 
English life, and proved themselves a working force. Wila- 
mowitz himself is quoted as saying in his wrath that the 
only hope for the future of Greek scholarship is in England. 
All that is left he told me in 1907 is the University Extension 
lecture. If the range of reading is not so wide as it might 
be, if the studies of even the best scholars move in too narrow 
a circle, still it is a great thing to breathe the same pellucid air 
with Vergil, to feel Horace playing about the heart-strings, to 
hear the music of the voiceful sea from which the Iliad and 
the Odyssey have risen. No English scholar would have been 
guilty of the blunder of Lucian Miiller, who balked at ' Con- 
templator item ' — failing as he did to recognize the Vergilian 
verse. No English classicist would have claimed a solemn 
verse of St. Paul as a comic fragment, as was the fortune of 
Kock. Of this cultural side, this preeminently English side, 
no better champion could be imagined than Gilbert Murray, 
whose article I have just characterized. So far as I know, his 
training has been purely English, and yet he is familiar with 
German work and is evidently in close personal relations with 
German scholars, and whilst he does not make the almost 
absolute surrender that Masqueray made not long ago 
(A. J. P. XXXV 109), his acknowledgment of the obliga- 
tion of the classicists to German erudition is ample, and it 
might suffice to register only his reserves. Still his vast conces- 
sions justify the domination of German philology in America. 
' In sheer, straightforward, professional erudition Germany 
easily leads the way '. ' This comes out most clearly in the 
great works of reference ', and he cites the Corpus of Greek 
Inscriptions, the Corpus of Latin Inscriptions, the great 
Latin Thesaurus, the best Greek Lexicon, Pauly-Wissowa, 
Roscher, Kiihner-Blass, Kiihner-Gerth, Collections of Frag- 
ments, the Bibliotheca Teubneriana. ' Iwan von Miiller's Hand- 
buch is by English standards an unapproached marvel '. Even 
the Lietzmann series has an emphatic word of commenda- 
tion, and as for individuals, 'no one scholar in any other 
country can be compared for range and brilliancy with Wilamo- 
witz ', to whom he pays in the course of his discussion a 
tribute distinguished by the warmth of its feeling as well as by 
the justice of its appreciation. ' It would be hard to put any 
general Greek history since Grote on a level with Eduard 
Meyer or any book on style above Norden's Kunstprosa '. Still 


Murray makes reserves in favour of Sir James Frazer's 
Pausanias and A. B. Cook's Zeus in their respective lines 
(A. J. P. XXXVI 459). His guess that the bulk of German 
productivity in the way of periodical literature, dissertations 
and monographs is ten times as great as that of the English 
seems to me utterly inadequate. 'The English work', it is 
true, ' shews sounder scholarship and less lack of judgment 
<but> the German shews far more thoroughness and daring 
and power of research '. ' These results ', he continues, ' are 
largely caused by the university systems in vogue in the two 
countries. In Germany the students to get their degree have 
to write and often <say ' regularly '> to publish a thesis '. In 
England they get their degree by a very hard and wide. < ?> 
examination. ' So with teaching appointments. In Germany a 
man has to publish a book ; in Great Britain men are usually 
appointed on private evidence of their teaching capacity, in- 
tellect and general character '. < Hence, I may add by way of 
parenthesis, many surprises to those who have no means of 
judging except by published work.> 'The Germans tend to 
put more of their force into writing and publishing, the Eng- 
lish into life and teaching '. ' Is there anything ', Professor 
Murray asks, almost despondently, ' to put on the other side of 
the account ? ' and, plucking up courage, he proceeds to cite the 
work of Sir Arthur Evans, the work of Grenfell, Hunt and 
Kenyon (A J. P. XII 97; XVIII 492; XX 229; XXVI 114), 
and what the English have done for numismatics. 'Great 
Britain's output is rather small ', he admits, ' and sometimes it 
is hard to tell how much competence or incompetence her 
silence covers '. But he contends that the answers received to 
the problems of Crete, of Sparta, of the Oxyrhynchus papyri 
have been obviously and undeniably in the first rank of com- 
petence '. And he goes on to say frankly : ' If we look away 
from the effectiveness of the book and try to estimate some 
quality in the mind of the writer, the comparison will come 
out in a very different way. When a thing can be ascertained 
and proved and instances counted I go to the Germans. If 
otherwise, no'. They lack the flair of the non-German. 
<Alas ! how my friend Usener would have writhed at the 
denial to his people of what he felicitously called ' die Fein- 
fuhligkeit philologischen Nachempfindens> '. 'The Germans 
do not write Greek verse < despite the precept of Boeckh, 
Encycl. u. Methodol., p. 802 ; despite the precept and the ex- 
ample of Wilamowitz, A. J. P. XXIII 4>. They write books 
on Greek Metrik.' As specimens of the one deplorable weak- 
ness of German scholarship Mr. Murray cites two concrete 
examples — Gerhard's Phoenix of Colophon — a valuable book, 
it is true, but replete with metrical blunders, and as another 
notable example in the same line, he instances Wecklein — who 



has caught it, by the way, on both sides of the Channel. While 
in Germany as well as in England the study of the classics 
has conserved its general and foundational character, in Ger- 
many it is either dropped or has become professional. Ger 
many has no Gladstone, no Asquith, no Lord Bryce, no Lord 
Cromer. 'The professional against the amateur', that is 
Mr. Murray's summing up, the ' specialist proper ' against 
' the scholar and the gentleman '. ' These two antitheses take 
us a long way in understanding the difference between 
German and English scholarship'. To point these antith- 
eses, he takes the weaker type of scholar in both coun- 
tries ; the Englishman who adds nothing to our knowledge but 
incites to the study of Greek literature, the German who sets 
himself to some obscure piece of work as yet unattempted, 
which may yield valuable results, which can be achieved by 
industry without understanding. 

Of course, the great German scholars are high and lifted up 
above such weakness, and he cites specimens about some of 
which his great exemplar Wilamowitz has had hard things to 
say. Wilamowitz himself has no parallel, he has the range of 
Hermann, the vitality of Bentley and Verrall's sense of litera- 
ture. To the German on the other hand Sir Richard Jebb 
was no ' philolog ', and Jane Harrison is an incomprehensible 
figure, and as for the works that indicate an artistic impulse 
such as Cornford's and Zimmern's and Livingstone's (A. J. P. 
XXVIII 356; XXXIV 486), the German can neither com- 
pare with them nor appreciate them. And yet these writers 
are definitely technical and professional scholars, ' men who 
would probably dally with the thought of suicide, if guilty 
of publishing a false quantity or grammatical blunder '. Mr. 
Mackail is one of Mr. Murray's exemplars. I tremble to re- 
produce my notes on his Greek Anthology. ' In Germany 
there is more one-sided devotion and more industry. In Eng- 
land there is more humanity, more interest in life, more 
common sense.' 

But for all this eloquent praise of the English spirit it is not 
to be denied that for the American classical teacher who 
wishes to fit himself for his work in life the only sensible 
course is to familiarize himself with German methods, and in 
my day that could only be compassed in Germany itself. True, 
the Rhodes scholarship of to-day serves to shew the lament- 
able weakness of American teaching in certain directions, and 


to sharpen criticism of the slovenliness and formlessness from 
which the Germans are not exempt. True, the German uni- 
versities are not so organized as to give the student a syste- 
matic training, and I look back on my own haphazard course 
with amazement and amusement. To be sure, I only drifted 
into classical philology. I am a litterateur manque, but I 
doubt whether the average German student was any wiser. 
Not a few of them, I am sorry to say, are influenced by the 
position of the various professors, as examiners and other- 
wise. But the value of my five semesters was to me inesti- 
mable. What I have done in my long life as teacher, as 
grammarian, is due in large measure to the example and in- 
spiration of Boeckh, of C. F. Hermann, of Schneidewin, of 
Ritschl (A. J. P. V 339-355), of Welcker, of Bernays, and I 
will permit myself to repeat what I wrote twelve years ago 
(A. J. P. XXIV 484) : 

Well rounded schemes for a Triennium Philologicum are very desir- 
able and when we scan closely the courses once followed at the German 
universities, still followed at the German universities, everything seems 
to be at loose ends. There is no unity, no system in them. But so 
long as the teacher sets fire and the pupil takes fire, there is hope and 
it is a hope that maketh not ashamed. 

Started as this line of meditation was by the reading of Sir 
John Sandys' contribution to the Cambridge History of 
English Literature I seem to have wandered far from the 
point of origin, and yet there are two foci about which my 
thoughts have revolved. One is the stress laid upon the 
accomplishment of verse-making, the other the paucity of 
published works. Both are sufficiently conspicuous in Sir 
John Sandys' essay, and both figure in my summary of Pro- 
fessor Murray's article. I am by no means so narrow- 
minded as I was on the first point and I have delivered myself 
emphatically as to the value of practice in verse-making for 
training the susceptibilities of the student. And yet one 
rebels at times, as when a certain scoffer at German scholarship 
parades, as a contribution to Latin poetry, perhaps the most 
familiar line in Vergil with the change of a single word. 
Coleridge, it will be remembered, had the utmost contempt for 
' tags '. And besides, sad to say, as modern instruments of pre- 
cision play havoc with versification, with synonyms, the fatal 
word ' baboo ' comes to the mind, and the Greek BaB a L as well. 
No recent Latin poetry has the swing of the Renascence. 
Mosaic . against fresco, that is one way of putting it. But 
what of the successes? — and there are successes. Their 
value begins and ends with the author — and I recall once 


more the drastic saying of Fraccaroli as to the 'masturbazione 
intellettuale ' (A. J. P. XV 506) of all exercises that have 
their be-all and end-all in the virtuoso. As to the paucity 
of production, of which Professor Murray tells, Sir John 
Sandys' pages produce abundant illustration. 1 An Oxford 
Don once lamented to me the modern mania for writing 
books. If he meant the run of school editions he was quite 
right. Most of them are absolutely negligible for the ad- 
vanced student, and no book ought to be published that does 
not contain some individual contribution to what is already 
known. But one waxes impatient at the reputations that have 
been gained in England by infinitesimal productions. Where 
else on God's earth would a man gain immortality by an Intro- 
ductory Lecture ? And yet that performance was the only evi- 
dence Tennyson could have adduced, when he fastened his 
buttonhole bouquet on the academic gown of Prof. Lushington. 
destined to be laid on the bier of every worker on philological 
lines. 'Verify your references', as profound a maxim as 
' check your ledger ', has given perennial fame to the centenarian 
Routh. ' Do good and communicate ' is a scriptural injunc- 
tion that is worth while to heed. I do not underrate the 
scholarship that lies hidden in English colleges, and every 
now and then a man dies, and his friends bring out a solitary 
piece of work which they consider of superior quality — work 
that lacks the revising hand of the author. However, this is a 
part of the aristocratic tradition, instances of which will occur 
to every one who has explored outlying regions of study. 
Here is one out of my own experience. When it was my sad 
fate to undertake the editing of Justin Martyr's Apologies, 

1 The story is told in almost every obituary of an English scholar. 
So in a recent number of the Classical Review June 1916, we read of 
two admirable men, Strachan-Davidson, who died at 73, and William 
Ross Hardie, who died at 5^. ' To those who knew them well the 
works which their preoccupation with personal tuition permitted them 
to publish seem but a slight revelation of their stores of solid learning 
and humane understanding. The world is the poorer because they de- 
ferred so late the communication to it of their unremitted study of 
the source of our knowledge concerning the sides of ancient life which 
chiefly attracted their attention. Their monument is where they would 
have wished it to be — in the more effective teaching of their successors 
who learned from them both what and how to teach. What they did 
publish, small it may be in bulk compared with the productions of many 
of their contemporaries, is throughout of high and distinguished quality, 
widely and securely based on first-hand study, fresh, living, illuminative — 
always work to which any scholar may return to find help and renewal 
of interest.' There is a diversity of ideals as there is a diversity of 
gifts. The question for Americans is 'What are we to do in our 
Sparta, which knows no such field of work as the English universities 
present or rather have presented?' The English ideal has been fol- 
lowed by some of our best men and those who loved them mourn that 
they followed it too closely — mourn for the missing monument as well 
as for the loss to the world— (A. J. P. XXIV 239). 


I made the acquaintance of Thirlby, evidently a first-class 
scholar in his day. There is not a little quiet humour in the notes 
and some sharp satire. The Germans could not understand 
why Thirlbius should have done nothing more and set up the 
theory that Thirlby was a pseudonym for Markland. 

One word more as to the lack of 'artistic impulse' in 
German scholars. Of that no mere foreigner is a judge. 
Not long before his lamented death Karl Hillebrand wrote 
an article for one of the English reviews in which he main- 
tained that very few of those Englishmen, who fancy that 
they read French as readily as they do English, have any 
appreciation of the differences in French style. The examples 
he cited were, if I mistake not, Prosper Merimee and Octave 
Feuillet (A. J. P. XXVI 115). As for that matter, even in 
English, natives seldom apply to English style the exact 
methods that rhetoricians and grammarians are wont to use 
in studying the Attic orators. Sufficiently warned by precept 
and example I do not set up to be a judge of German style, and 
when Birt maintains that Bruns has a classic style and Zie- 
linski, himself a brilliant writer, disputes the claim (NJB 
1905, p. 750), I suspend judgment. Still impressions are worth 
something. I have sat spellbound under Ritschl. I have paid 
my tribute to Bucheler (A. J. P. XXIX 247). Whether it was 
the style or spirit that moved me I do not care. I know 
enough to appreciate the finish of Ernst Curtius's History of 
Greece — an elegant patrician style which he filed over and 
over again in successive editions (A. J. P. VIII 387). I was 
not proof in my day against the rush of Mommsen's Roman 
History of which I made an abstract for my own use. I feel 
the thrill of certain great passages still despite all that has 
been written about his newspaper style (A. J. P. VI 483). 

There is some danger lest in these heated times partisans 
should go back to the days of Pere Bouhours, a forgotten 
critic, who undertook to decide the question whether a 
German could have ' esprit '. And as to the English develop- 
ment of the artistic handling of philological questions, well, 
I am old-fashioned enough to detest the reign of Pater 
(A. J. P. XV 93) — Pater, and all his followers, open or un- 
avowed. I prefer sinewy strength to sinuous subtlety. Now 
that we Americans have become a nation, we ought to develop 
a national style. Yet no analyst has as yet succeeded in fixing 


the fugitive flavour. If I were younger, I might urge the accept- 
ance of Freeman's parallel of the United States with Sicily. 
Sicily was the melting pot of Europe. Asia and Africa. Whoso 
walks the streets of Monreale can see in the faces he meets 
types of all the old piratical races. America is the melting-pot 
of the world. The English base threatens to disappear; 
and there are those who claim the right to a new language. 
I came into the world too soon for such a glorious consum- 
mation, but I have urged with what measure of emphasis my 
more or less imperfect command of the language of my fore- 
fathers allows, a cosmopolitan philology, which shall aim at 
combining the best characteristics of all nationalities. 

Zeus, the red-headed woodpecker that dwells in the oak, has 
been followed by the applegod, Apollo, and by the mugwort 
goddess, Artemis (A. J. P. XXXVII 219) ; and we are now 
led by the same ingenious scholar to whom we owe these new 
interpretations into the recesses of the herbalist's shop and find 
Aphrodite revealed as the mandrake or rather mandragora, a 
word that has more attractive associations. It would be sheer 
ingratitude to my old friend, J. Rendel Harris ( The Origin 
of the Cult of Aphrodite. Bulletin of the John Rylands> 
Library, Oct.-Dec. 1916), if I did not welcome with both 
hands an essay that has rolled back for me the half-century 
that separates me from my early studies. Aphrodite, it seems, 
means ultimately ' the fruit of love ', ' the love-apple '. ' P(h) 'ri' 
is the Hebrew for ' fruit ' and the radical for ' love ' lies in the 
Hebrew for ' mandrake ' ' dudaim '. The theoretical Phoeni- 
cian form, we are told, would be ' phardidi ' and there are 
suspicious variations in the name as it appears on early Greek 
vases. True, 'Aphrodide' does not seem to occur, but the 
dental t is more appropriate to Aphrodite's passionate kiss 
(A. P. V 253) and the change is not to be dismissed with a 
contemptuous ' fiddle-dee-dee '. 8e«^ 0«os yap KuV/ms. At all 
events the basic word lingers in my memory from the time 
when I first read 'Lecho, Daudi, Likras, Kalle, 'Come, my 
beloved, to meet thy bride' — Heine's Ashkenazim translitera- 
tion of n*?a nanpS nn naS ; and ' mandragora ' as a love-potion 
takes me back to Machiavelli's droll comedy in which the 
mandrake proves a potent aphrodisiac, and not the sleeping 
potion we associate with the poppy. The story of Leah's 
bargain with Rachel (Gen. 30, 14 foil.) was familiar to the 
men of Machiavelli's time and the mandrake figures also in 
the Song of Solomon (7, 13) for good reasons or bad. A 
number of points raised in my fifty-year-old essay, The Legend 


of Venus, are met and some of them blunted by the new theory. 
In the original edition I subscribed to the notion that Dido 
was the moon. ' Moonshine ' said an English reviewer, given 
like so many English reviewers to the obvious. In my Essays 
and Studies, I seriously inclined to the 'love' etymology. 
Dido is ultimately a goddess of love, a double-ganger of her 
sister Anna (Hanna) = Hulda. Aphroditos corresponds to 
the male mandrake, as Aphrodite to the female. But the 
eternal feminine, the duck of a woman, as Penelope (ILjve- 
Aoireio) was called, has it almost all her own way in Greek 
mythology. The Black Venus, 'A^poSirri MeAaivis, like the 
Black Madonna, is satisfactorily accounted for on the new 
theory. But one of the titles of Aphrodite, ' Ambologera ' or 
' Postponer of Old Age ' — cited by Dr. Harris as a convinc- 
ing proof of the identity of Aphrodite with the aphrodisiac 
mandragora, recalls several si vieillesse pouvait warnings of 
the Anthology, with which I have been busy of late, and I leave 
the subject to those who need no postponement.