bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025_split huggingface dataset:
The New Morgan Manuscript of Titus and Vespasian
Authors: Bühler Curt F. 
Published: February 2007

Under their number 1881, Carleton Brown and Rossell Hope Robbins listed ten manuscripts which contain the romance of Titus and Vespasian written in couplet form. Since the publication of the Index, however, at least two more manuscripts of this work have come to light, the Earl of Derby (Knowsley Hall) codex and another recently acquired by the Pierpont Morgan Library. The present investigation concerns the latter manuscript, for which the following description may be supplied:M 898, collection: The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York. Manuscript on vellum (5 5/8 ⋉ 3 7/8 inches). Collation: a-m8 n5, wanting al = 100 leaves. 20 lines. Written (black ink with chapter headings or résumés in red, and rubrication in blue) in England in the fifteenth century. Bound in nineteenth-century brown morocco by F. Bedford. With the book-plate of Sir Henry Hope Edwardes (his library was sold at Christie's, 20 May 1901).
Pope and the Rules of Prosody
Authors: Adler Jacob H. 
Published: February 2007

This paper owes its origin to three statements about Pope:… I find your Practice the Prosodia of your Rules.—Henry Cromwell, letter to Pope, S December 1710.… he [Pope] adhered rigidly to the rules laid down in it [his letter on prosody], both in the translation from Statius and in the Pastorals.-Edith Sitwell, Alexander Pope, p. 69.
Longfellow and His Cross of Snow
Authors: Cox James M. 
Published: February 2007

Longfellow's Sonnet, “The Cross of Snow,” written eighteen years after his wife's death and left among his papers, has survived to become one of his most admired productions. Samuel Longfellow, the poet's brother and biographer, first brought it to the world's attention, publishing it in the second volume of the biography. Along with the poem, he added some biographical details which to this day usually serve in paraphrased form as a preface to anthologized appearances of the poem. Writing of Longfellow's grief-stricken anguish during the months following Mrs. Longfellow's death, his brother observed:In one of his early letters Mr. Longfellow had said: ‘With me all deep feelings are silent ones.’ It was so of the deepest. No word of his bitter sorrow and anguish found expression in verse. But he felt the need of some continuous and tranquil occupation for his thoughts; and after some months he summoned the resolution to take up again the task of translating Dante,—begun, it may be remembered, years before, and long laid aside. For a time he translated a canto each day. . . . Eighteen years afterward, looking over, one day, an illustrated book of Western scenery, his attention was arrested by a picture of that mysterious mountain upon whose lonely, lofty breast the snow lies in long furrows that make a rude but wonderfully clear image of a vast cross. At night as he looked upon the pictured countenance that hung upon his chamber wall, his thoughts framed themselves into the verses that follow. He put them away in his portfolio, where they were found after his death.
Emile Montégut and French Romanticism
Authors: Chadbourne Richard M. 
Published: February 2007

Eclairer et bruler a la fois est lecomble de la perfectionSt. BernardThe Goncourt Brothers tell of their visit, at two o'clock in the afternoon of 27 November 1862, to a sixth-floor apartment in the Rue Jacob where a voice rising as though from dream-like depths bade them enter a kind of “chambre de grisette, de couturière.” There, with an unlaced pair of men's boots on the floor and books heaped about everywhere, they were greeted from his bed by “un petit homme, maigre, maladif … un critique en mansarde, un homme d'un grand talent. C'est M. Montégut, l'écrivain de la REVUE DES DEUX MONDES.” He was thirty-seven then, having come from his native Limousin as a young man, already eccentric by virtue of his provincial education and Protestant background, to find his way into the Revue, where, except for brief service with other journals, he remained at his post of literary critic a long life, ending in December 1895.
Whitman's “Black Lucifer”: Some Possible Sources
Authors: Kahn Sholom J. 
Published: February 2007

In the first edition of Leaves of Grass occur these puzzling lines, kept in the third edition, but later eliminated:Now Lucifer was not dead ... or if he was I am his sorrowful terrible heir;I have been wronged. ... I am oppressed. ... I hate him that oppresses me,I will either destroy him, or he shall release me.Damn him! how he does defile me,How he informs against my brother and sister and takes pay for their blood,How he laughs when I look down the bend after the steamboat that carries away my woman.
Spenser and Timotheus: A Musical Gloss on E. K.'s Gloss
Authors: Carpenter Nan 
Published: February 2007

The October Eclogue of The Shepheardes Calender is based largely upon Platonic ideas about music and poetry, especially ideas of the divine inspiration of poetry and the effect of music upon man's soul. Piers's verses praising Cuddie for his great gifts as a poet refer to this power:Soone as thou gynst to sette thy notes in frame,O how the rurall routes to thee doe cleaue:Seemeth thou dost their soule of sence bereaue,All as the shepheard, that did fetch his dameFrom Plutos balefull bowre wi thou ten leaue:His musicks might the hellish hound did tame.
The Genesis of the Involuntary Memory in Proust's Early Works
Authors: Jackson Elizabeth R. 
Published: February 2007

That Curious psychological phenomenon, the involuntary memory, is not an original discovery of Proust. Nor does he claim it as such, since, in Le Temps retrouvé, he himself mentions Chateaubriand, Baudelaire, and Nerval as predecessors. Critical investigations have since amplified this list. What is original, however, is Proust's use of it: only he conceived of its many facets—poetic, dramatic, philosophic—and exploited its possibilities by incorporating it centrally in the substance of a novel. Within his own work the involuntary memory underwent a lengthy evolution, appearing in embryonic form from the outset in Les Plaisirs et les jours and recurring, progressively more refined, in all subsequent writing, but not fully modeled nor centrally placed until the final work. In La Recherche three separate forms of the involuntary memory are delineated. There is a dream memory operating in a state of full or partial somnolence found principally in the “Ouverture” and in La Prisonnière where the senses and imaginative powers pursue a course unchecked by reason or will, where the evocations are fleeting, vague in contour, limited in significance and never surprising. There is a sentimental memory evoking a person once loved by the narrator (Gilberte, his grandmother, Albertine), in effect resuscitating that person since the narrator experiences her as present, as a living reality within him, surrounded by the full force of all old emotional ties. It is operative only while some trace of the original affection remains and affords no pleasure but rather acute and often prolonged sorrow, since the circumstances necessary for such recollection are so precarious (love being ephemeral). There is finally an esthetic memory, far more dependable than the sentimental memory in its life-preserving powers, and also richer quantitatively and qualitatively, recalling and bringing back to life whole worlds (connected with a period such as Combray, Balbec, Venice, or with an instant) framed and colored by the narrator's past aspirations. Its mechanism is uniquely poetic and dramatic. It presents a highly specific content—the affective comprehension of a particular place and moment. It causes an intense and durable pleasure and contains the answers to the narrator's questions.The present analysis will trace the emergence of these forms along with other basic features of Proust's affective memory: its involuntary character, its structural function, its intricate mechanism including unusual impetus-sensations, original and beautiful content, striking subsidiary effects.
“The Snows of Kilimanjaro”: A Revaluation
Authors: Evans Oliver 
Published: February 2007

When “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” first appeared in Esquire (August 1936), it attracted immediate attention. It was promptly reprinted (in Best American Short Stories of 1937) by Edward J. O'Brien, who, praising it in his preface, remarked: “Nothing is irrelevant. The artist's energy is rigidly controlled for his purpose.” Since then it has been anthologized many times, and now it is probably safe to say that, with the possible exception of “The Killers,” none of Hemingway's stories has enjoyed greater popularity than this one. Hemingway's own opinion was that it was “about as good as any” of his shorter works.In the last ten or fifteen years, however, “The Snows” has come in for considerable disparagement, mainly from the so-called New Critics and their followers. In 1945 Ray B. West, Jr., wrote in The Sewanee Review: “While I consider this story one of Hemingway's best … it is spoiled for me by the conventionality of its leading symbol: the White-capped mountain as the ‘House of God’.” In 1950 Allen Tate and Caroline Gordon, referring to it in The House of Fiction as a “magnificent failure,” complained that it lacked “dramatic force” and objected that the symbolism was not properly integrated with the action. And in 1956 William Van O'Connor characterized it as a “rather puzzling story” and expressed dissatisfaction with the ending.
The Concept of the Second Eve in Paradise Lost
Authors: Pecheux Mary Christopher 
Published: February 2007

Most readers of the account of Raphael's visit to Eden in Book v of Paradise Lost center their interest on the exchange of greetings between Raphael and Adam, which illustrates the sense of order and hierarchy so significant in the poem. The importance for both theme and structure of the angel's address to Eve, which immediately follows, has, however, been overlooked. Eve rises to greet her heavenly guest, and the narration continues:On whom the Angel HaileBestowd, the holy salutation us'dLong after to blest Marie, second Eve.(Paradise Lost v.385-387)
Tom Moore and the Edinburgh Review of Christabel
Authors: Schneider Elisabeth W. 
Published: February 2007

Several years ago I published an article drawing attention to a forgotten statement by the nineteenth-century bibliographer T. F. Dibdin to the effect that Thomas Moore and not, as has often been supposed, Hazlitt or Jeffrey wrote the much disputed review of Coleridge's Christabel that appeared in the Edinburgh Review for September 1816 (xxvii, 58-67). Dibdin's phrasing suggested that he might have known the truth from a good source. Testing his ascription in the light of other evidence, I concluded that he was almost certainly right though as far as was known otherwise Moore had not acknowledged the article and might very well even have denied it. It now appears that in effect Moore did deny it, and the question therefore should be reviewed.How seriously one takes a writer's disavowal of an anonymous publication obviously depends upon the writer and the circumstances. Some authors must be believed without question; from others—Scott is the prime nineteenth-century example—a denial is somewhat less than final. His fellow-Scotsman Jeffrey, on the other hand, though as editor of the Edinburgh Review he had constantly to do with anonymous writing, avoided the alternatives of betrayal or prevarication by a consistent policy of silence; when he did speak out, even inveterate enemies scarcely questioned his word. The difference may be less a matter of ethical standards than of the author's conception of the privilege attached to anonymity, which can sometimes be preserved only by evasion or deception. Thomas Moore leaves us in no uncertainty about his position. “For my own part, I think every possible trick fair with that animal ferae naturae, the Public,” he wrote to the poet Rogers in 1814. This was his justification for a tangle of misstatements and secrecy into which he had been driven by a complex of worry and hope over the reception of Lalla Rookh. It applied equally to his anonymous writing, which he was often disposed to deny when its success was doubtful. “Though I shall of course deny the trifles I am now doing, yet, if they are liked, I shall be sure to get the credit of them,” he wrote in a letter of 1813. “Of course” is the telling phrase in this confession. At one time or another, sometimes explicitly and sometimes by implication, he denied his authorship of the Intercepted Letters, Little Man and Little Soul, Tom Crib's Memorial to Congress, A Vision: by the Author of Christabel, and at least one contribution to the Edinburgh Review; he also once planned to pass off an air of his own composing as a “national” air. These denials happen to have survived in his own written records. Others have probably gone unrecorded, for his concealments were many.
From Earth to Ether: Poe's Flight into Space
Authors: O'Donnell Charles 
Published: February 2007

Arthur Gordon Pym has been dead these many years, having perished, we are told, in an accident shortly after his return from a journey to the south. The faint tappings we have heard of late do not come from within the box, but from without; modern critics are attempting to loosen the nails pounded in by decades of indifference. In view of America's history of literary revivals and resurrections, it would not be surprising to see the lid fly suddenly off, letting Pym, like Mr. Shuttleworthy, spring into a sitting position and proclaim himself the author of a great masterpiece of literature.Nothing that dramatic is likely to happen. But it is true that after one hundred years of bewilderment at the betrayal of sensibility evidenced in the French admiration of The Narrative of A. Gordon Pym, American critics and literary historians began to praise or condemn the book on a firmer basis than the memory of a childhood reading. In the last few years three critics have given the work the benefit of sensitive and mature judgment. To these I feel the need to add some thoughts, partly because someone, in memory of Poe, should cherish the vision of the young artist, happy in his artist's duplicity, juggling parts, manipulating symbols with ingenuity and dexterity toward an end he was destined never to achieve; and partly, too, because I can now say, with all the assurance of hindsight, that as an artist he was doomed almost from the start, that the philosophical ending was in the artistic beginning. Poe's works are all variations on a single persistent theme that finds its expression in forms ranging from pure hokum to pure speculation. Somewhere between the extremes, in a few stories, Poe manages to strike a chord familiar to the modern reader's ear.
Zola and Busnach: The Temptation of the Stage
Authors: Kanes Martin 
Published: February 2007

What could have possessed Zola to let a writer of vaudevilles tamper with his novels? André Antoine asked himself the question in his journal the day after the dismal failure of Germinal, and we still wonder about it today. Very little is known about Busnach, except that he was one of the directors of the Athénée theater, and the author of such items as Ali-Baba and Froufrou. Did Zola really think this theatrical butterfly was capable of converting Germinal, or any other novel for that matter, into a play?Let us not judge him by his boulevard reputation alone. Sarah Bernhardt called him the wittiest man in Paris, no mean compliment coming from her.2 He possessed the gift—or burden— of extreme sensitivity, and a line from one of his letters to Zola, “Je suis trop votre collaborateur et pas assez votre ami” might serve as epigraph to their relationship. Moreover, Zola had burned himself at the sputtering limelight of the Boulevard des Italiens with Les Heritiers Rabourdin and Le Bouton de rose; why should he not have welcomed the cooperation of a man who knew his business well? Despite the fact that there is a mass of available material on this collaboration— material which throws much light upon Zola's critical and esthetic theories—there has been no real attempt to relate Zola dramaturge with Zola romancier. Relationships did nevertheless exist, as I shall indicate. In the course of their collaboration, Busnach wrote Zola nearly 2000 letters, and in the absence of Zola's replies, these remain our chief source of information.3 My remarks are based upon them, and upon the texts of the plays.4
“Profusion Du Soir” and “Le Cimetière Marin”
Authors: Whiting Charles G. 
Published: February 2007

In “Au Sujet du ‘Cimetière marin’,” Valéry tells us that this poem originated from a decasyllabic rhythm, at first empty of content, which began running through his mind: “Une figure rythmique vide, ou remplie de syllabes vaines, qui me vint obséder quelque temps.” He speculated on what a modern poet might do with this rhythm, the type of stanza he might use, the composition he might create, and concluded that his poem would be a personal monologue: “Un monologue de ‘moi,’ dans lequel les thèmes les plus simples et les plus constants de ma vie affective et intellectuelle, tels qu'ils s'étaient imposés à mon adolescence et associés à la mer et à la lumière d'un certain lieu des bords de la Méditerranée, fussent appelés, tramés, opposés . . . ”Since Valéry speaks of intellectual and affective themes of his adolescence, it is not surprising if we find similarities between “Le Cimetière marin,” written between 1917 and 1920, and a long poem of Valéry's youth, “Profusion du soir,” “abandoned” in 1899 and published for the first time in 1926 in Quelques vers anciens and in the augmented second edition of L'Album de vers anciens. The parallel, however, extends beyond the themes. The two poems have a similar structure, and frequently, at corresponding points in the structure, we find similar images, ideas, and even similar vocabulary. While “Profusion du soir” can hardly be considered an early version of “Le Cimetière marin,” a number of its aspects reappear in the later poem. This fact may well explain the note “poème abandonné” which follows the title of “Profusion du soir.” If Valéry left “Profusion du soir” in an abandoned state, it is possibly because he was no longer interested in working on the early poem after creating “Le Cimetière marin.”
Camus and Vigny
Authors: Hill Charles G. 
Published: February 2007

Although Albert Camus furnished us with only one rather vague acknowledgement of influence by Alfred de Vigny, I believe that their affinity goes beyond a recognized common distress in the face of certain aspects of the human predicament. I think further that superficial differences in the situation of the two authors mask attitudes which are fundamentally similar. In order to give this kinship the attention it deserves, I should like first to examine the relationship between the moral, social, and intellectual forces which formed the two men, and with this background to discuss two bases for affinity of metaphysical, social, and artistic points of view.Camus's humble origins had much the same significance as the romantic's aristocratic attachment to the past had for him. Each writer tended to insist on his alienation from the dominant middle class, but both noted a relationship between the popular and aristocratic milieux. The 1957 Nobel Prize winner stated that in the nineteenth century official social values were attacked by revolutionaries and by aristocrats like Vigny. “Dans les deux cas, peuple et aristocratie, qui sont les deux sources de toute civilisation, s'inscrivent contre la société factice de leur temps.” And in recounting the realization that his classmates hated him for his aristocracy, Vigny added, “J'étais pareil à un jeune ouvrier qui part avant l'aube pour faire sa journée . . . ”
Two Types of “Heroes” in Post-War British Fiction
Authors: O'Connor William Van 
Published: February 2007

In novel after novel,“ William York Tindall says, in Forces in Modern British Literature, ”sensitive lads are apprenticed to life, formed by its forces, rebelling against them, sometimes failing, sometimes emerging in victory. . . . From 1903 onwards almost every first novel was a novel of adolescence.“ Samuel Butler, he adds, started the vogue with The Way of All Flesh (1903). He ”wrote this book between 1872 and 1884 to express hatred for his father, admiration for himself, and his dearest prejudices.“Perhaps we can push the date back of 1903 to Huysmans' À rebours (1884) and his sensitive protagonist, des Esseintes. From Huysmans we go to Oscar Wilde, to The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), which owes much to À rebours. The world in which these sensitive young men find themselves is Philistine, money-grubbing, dull, insensitive.
Everyman: A Structural Analysis
Authors: Van Laan Thomas F. 
Published: February 2007

The high value of Everyman has been provocatively asserted in T. S. Eliot's description of it as “perhaps” the only English drama “within the limitations of art.” Eliot writes this while discussing the lack of form in post-Kydian drama and thus implies that the source of this value is the play's formal unity. David Kaula has taken Eliot to mean “that nothing in the play is extraneous to the central homiletic purpose, that all elements of style, structure, and theme are governed by the conventions of allegory.” Yet the emphasis on Everyman's homiletic purpose and allegorical conventions does not sufficiently explain either its critical esteem or its theatrical popularity. Fortunately, Eliot has enlarged upon his original assessment in a later work. He argues that religious drama, to be successful, must combine its doctrine with “ordinary dramatic interest.” Everyman fulfills his requirement:the religious and the dramatic are not merely combined, but wholly fused. Everyman is on the one hand the human soul in extremity, and on the other any man in any dangerous position from which we wonder how he is going to escape—with as keen interest as that with which we wait for the escape of the film hero, bound and helpless in a hut to which his enemies are about to set fire.
Grammar and Meaning in Poetry
Authors: Greenfield Stanley B. 
Published: February 2007

The year 1960 produced a number of interesting statements in widely divergent scholarly contexts calling for a closer scrutiny of the contribution of grammar—of syntax, word order, morphology—to poetic effect. In a journal concerned largely with the teaching of English appeared Harry Warfel's contention that “the significant differences in literature lie in an author's syntactical maneuvering,” and his further suggestion that the characterization in plays, in Shakespeare's at any rate, is subtly indicated by different syntactic patterns in the speeches of the dramatis personae. In a journal devoted to aesthetics, meanwhile, Francis Utley was appealing to the linguistic concept of immediate constituents to suggest the possibility of a “tension of ambiguities” in poetry. Referring specifically to Arnold's
the Sea of FaithWas once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds …
Conscience and the Pattern of Christian Perfection in Clarissa
Authors: Dussinger John A. 
Published: February 2007

Just as Defoe had maintained that the novel could surpass the pulpit in encouraging morality, so Richardson explicitly declared his intention of making Clarissa nothing less than an instrument of reviving the Christian religion:In this general depravity, when even the pulpit has lost great part of its weight, and the clergy are considered as a body of interested men, the author thought he should be able to answer it to his own heart, be the success what it would, if he threw in his mite towards introducing a reformation so much wanted. And he imagined, that in an age given up to diversion and entertainment, he could steal in, as may be said, and investigate the great doctrines of Christianity under the fashionable guise of an amusement; he should be most likely to serve his purpose.