George Walker, a London bookseller and publisher, author of several Gothic tales, printed in 1799 a satirical novel, The Vagabond, directed against the Jacobins and their philosophic forerunners. The author's purpose was a serious one, to refute and counteract the works that had poured from the Jacobin presses. As a result the novel, though amusing and fanciful in the manner of the Anti-Jacobin, represents a consistent view-point and an earnest desire to show the beauties of society as then organized. In its way, it is a summary of the reactionary position, and, by giving the opinions of the opponents of Rousseau, Hume, Mary Wollstonecraft, Holcroft, Paine, William Godwin, and others, illustrates a large section of late eighteenth-century thought.

Quoique l'influence de Pierre Bayle sur l'esprit philosophique et critique de Voltaire soit généralement reconnue et consacrée par la critique, elle n'a pas encore subi l'examen qu'elle comporte, et il reste à la démontrer et à la préciser. Sans doute, au premier abord, l'atmosphère baylienne règne suprême dans les œuvres de Voltaire. Voltaire lui-même, tout le premier, dans de nombreux passages, rend hommage à celui qu'il nomme complaisamment “son père spirituel.” Les épithètes élogieuses que Voltaire adresse au philosophe de Rotterdam abondent, mais elles ne sont souvent qu'un mot d'ordre et de ralliement et ne doivent être acceptées qu'avec réserve et caution. De plus, il se peut que la ressemblance de pensée et de méthode entre deux auteurs tels que Pierre Bayle et Voltaire soit purement accidentelle et ne relève d'aucune influence directe. Un écrivain du caractère de Voltaire, toujours en éveil, curieux de tout savoir, doué d'une mémoire remarquable, prêt à assimiler et à transformer tout ce qui l'intéresse, se joue à dérouter l‘étude la plus minutieuse. Les influences françaises ou anglaises qui ont pu agir sur le développement intellectuel de Voltaire sont multiples et complexes: elles s'entremêlent et s'entrecroisent. Comment donc les définir et en tracer la source? Si Voltaire loue Pierre Bayle jusqu’ aux nues, il ne loue pas moins l'Angleterre, “l‘île barbare des Cassitérides, ”Locke et Newton. La part exacte de l'influence du milieu français et de celle de l'Angleterre sur Voltaire est encore à établir d'une façon définitive. La présente étude ne s'intéresse qu‘à la période de Voltaire qui précède la publication des Lettres philosophiques. Elle se borne à préciser la pensée philosophique et critique de Voltaire à cette époque et à en suggérer les sources probables; elle cherche surtout à découvrir quelques indices de l'influence de Pierre Bayle sur l'esprit du jeune Voltaire et à indiquer certains rapports de pensée et de méthode entre ces deux écrivains.

Friedrich Rochlitz, who as editor of the Leipsic Musikalische Zeitung first introduced E. T. A. Hoffmann to the German reading public, relates an interesting interview with the author soon after the appearance of the first volume of the Fantasiestücke in Callot's Manier. In reviewing the work for his paper, Rochlitz had declared, “was,” to quote his words, “kein Mensch verkennen konnte—er (Hoffmann) ahme im Stile und einigermaszen in der Form überhaupt, dem Jean Paul nach.” Hoffman was enraged, and poured out his feelings in the vigorous and excited fashion, so well known to those who had in any way excited his ill will.

For a voluminously autobiographical writer, De Quincey on occasion can be surprisingly reticent. His most frankly reminiscent narratives are sometimes colored by circumstances which he elaborately hints at rather than reveals. Peculiarly disconcerting to the student on this account is an article in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine for February, 1841, reprinted by Masson under the title “Story of a Libel, with Thoughts on Duelling,” which tells of his helplessness in the face of a downright insult to his wife perpetrated in 1824 by an anonymous slanderer. His account is both incomplete and ambiguous. He hesitates to be explicit on so ticklish a subject, and yet he cannot let the story alone. For all his suppressions, however, and though Masson has not identified it, the libel is recoverable to-day. With practical certainty we may also name its author. In other essays, once we have the key, we may find allusions to the libel and its author, even answers to some of its charges; in particular, we may see that De Quincey's painful recollection of it shaped some of his alterations in the revised Confessions of 1856.

The purpose of this study is to trace the history of the word goz and to attempt to solve the mooted problem concerning the authorship of Philomena. It will be recalled that Gaston Paris discovered the poem buried in the Ovide moralisé, which is dedicated to Jeanne de Bourgogne, who died in 1329. G. Paris considered Philomena one of the works enumerated by Chrétien de Troyes in the introductory lines of Cligès, all of which, with the exception of Erec, had been thought lost. The author's name is given in verse 734 of Philomena, riming with bois:

Through an annotator's error, this name was long interpreted as Chrétien Legouais de Sainte-More vers Troyes. This identification was accepted in the 14th century by Eustache Deschamps and as recently as 1893 by L. Sudre. But in the same year, Professor A. Thomas revealed the paleographical error involved. By doing so, he precipitated a battle royal, the smoke of which has not yet cleared away. Many theories have been advanced to determine whether Crestiiens li Gois and Chrétien de Troyes were one and the same person. C. de Boer boldly entitled his edition: Philomena, Conte raconté d'après Ovide, par Chrétien de Troyes (P., 1909). However, as K. Voretzsch has pointed out, while there are similarities in the literary conception and style of Chrétien de Troyes and Crestiiens li Gois, nevertheless the linguistic differences in their works point to two distinct authors.

A prose text of the Twelve Profits of Tribulation (MS. Royal 17 B xvii) based on the Latin treatise, De Duodecim Utilitatibus Tribulationis ascribed to Peter of Blois, archdeacon of Bath (†ca. 1200), was included by Horstmann in his edition of the works of Richard Rolle. Miss Hope Allen in her study of Rolle's writings has since demonstrated that this treatise is wrongly assigned to him. Horstmann also printed the text of the Twelve Profits from MS. Rawlinson C.894, and listed several other manuscripts containing prose versions of this treatise, in both English and French.

In identifying cinematic qualities—including Eisensteinian montage—in Faulkner's major fiction, scholars have conceived of film as an exclusively visual medium. This essay provides evidence of Faulkner's familiarity with Eisenstein's cinematic praxis by examining the similarities between the novelist's 1934 film treatment of Blaise Cendrars's Sutter's Gold and one that Eisenstein produced in 1930. It then argues that there is a striking continuity between the two treatments in the realm of sound—in particular, the imagining and inscription of film sound. Most surprising is the manner in which Faulkner's sonic experimentalism, clearly influenced by Eisenstein, works its way into the novel on which he was working at the time, Absalom, Absalom!. Informed by screen writing and film-sound technology, Faulkner's high-modernist novel contributes to emerging scholarly interest in the auditory culture of modernism.

To the average reader, even in Italy, the name Anton-francesco Doni suggests nothing. There is no collected edition of his works, nor, aside from the 1863 edition of the Marmi and the sporadic and limited publication of occasional pieces, are there even reprints of single works. To the average student he is but one of many writers of novelle that, altho by comparison with some of the others are only mildly filthy, are not distinguished by either sweetness or light. Of his other works, the Libreria is the earliest Italian bibliographical work; the Marmi, a series of conversations between Cinquecento Florentines sitting on the steps of the Duomo, is photographic in its realism; the Mondi, a socialistic fantasy, shows the influence of More's Utopia; the Zucca is a collection of proverbs, etc., yet nothing very significant. Nor are the facts of his life (1513–1569) more interesting. Altho associated somewhat mysteriously with the Accademia Ortolana of Piacenza and with the still more mysterious I Pelegrini at Venice, his roving life is tarred with the same brush as that of the “infame” Aretino. And to the English reader his direct claim is even more slender, as it consists only of a translation, made by Sir Thomas North in 1570, of his translation of the fables of Bidpai. In life he was of “vivissimo ingegno;” to-day the “ghiribizzoso” Doni is remembered as an erotic author.

Although Spenser, speaking in the character of Irenæus in the View of the State of Ireland, declares himself as not “professed” in religion, he shows in general such profound interest in religion that his ecclesiastical and theological views have provoked abundant discussion. In examining the question of his religious predilections one might expect to gain further evidence from a careful study of his use of the Scriptures.

Le 10 Avril 1853, dans une lettre à Louise Colet récemment publiée, Flaubert écrivait:

La seule chance que j'aie de me faire reconnaître, ce sera quand Bovary sera publiée; et mes compatriotes rugiront, car la couleur normande du livre sera si vraie qu'elle les scandalisera.

Apart from the fact that Henry James may not have wished to create such a black and white situation—the innocent American lamb thrown to the continental wolves of Paris—in his novel The American it is possible that the author himself may have expected a less simple interpretation of his novel than that which such scholars and critics as Joseph W. Beach, Constance Rourke, and even F. O. Mathiessen have afforded it. To accept the popular interpretation of the work as a rather transparent story of the victimization of a “good na-tured” American by a Borgia-like Parisian family seems to involve an oversight of much explicit and implicit information in the novel, which suggests that Mrs. Bread, the true mother of Claire de Cintre, was a blackmailer claiming both Newman and the Marquise de Bellegarde as victims; that Newman, by dint of his characteristic American naïveté and his opacity as a judge of character, was completely “taken in” by her ruse; and that Claire's refusal to accept Newman in marriage came as a direct result of her having been informed by the Bellegardes of her true parents—the old Marquis and his “meanest of mistresses,” Catherine Bread.

Some time ago, in a comparative study of European balladries, the problem of the melodies halted me till Professor César Barja told me that my problem had already been solved by Professor Sigurd B. Hustvedt, who sent me a short time later his valuable pamphlet, A Melodic Index of Child's Ballad Tunes (Univ. of California Press, 1936). I have made an extensive use of his system, having introduced a few modifications, and venture to think that my experiments may serve as (so to say) laboratory confirmation. His business has been with English and Scottish ballads; mine has been international.

The degree of Hemingway's frequently confessed debt to Stendhal as master and model is best seen in his adoption of The Charterhouse of Parma as the matrix of A Farewell to Arms. His use of Stendhal's novel is consistent with his esthetic practice of finding imaginative models to extend the meaning of autobiographical experience. He employed the battle and retreat experiences of Fabrizio at Waterloo as the paradigm of Frederic's experience during the Caporetto retreat. Both protagonists play the roles of outsiders in their armies, endure the suspicions of others, leave their retreating columns and seek survival in smaller groups, desert their routed armies, seek refuge in Switzerland, and later attempt to understand through reading and reflection the changes worked in them by their experiences in the debacles. Hemingway also followed Stendhal's lead in depicting the way in which language becomes a casualty of military catastrophe. In his larger development Frederic builds on the example of Fabrizio, changing from a man initially unable to love because he has no religious belief to one who loves and believes passionately and finds his destiny in his identity as a believer.

The study of foreign languages in the schools and colleges has in the past been justified in many different ways, and without question many reasons can be adduced to support their place in modern education. One argument in their favor which has been advanced more and more frequently is the assertion that foreign languages are not only useful but necessary for an understanding of other peoples and other cultures. This point of view is by no means limited to professional teachers of foreign languages but is to be found among men in public life and in organizations deeply concerned with contemporary educational problems. Despite their variety of source, the statements which have been cited demonstrate a surprising unanimity of attitude in their insistence that a fundamental aim of foreign language instruction is the transmission of what, for lack of a better name, we may call cultural insights.

What happens when i watch a creature suffer or when i share in my dog's joy? what is the power of these emotions, what do they teach me about living with animals and engaging ethically with their differences? While these questions may still seem sentimental to some, they have become increasingly relevant to those who study animals. Emotions have made a remarkable comeback in recent animal literature and philosophy. Rehabilitated by a new wave of theorists, they have found their way into some of the most provocative contemporary reflections on animal ethics. Josephine Donovan, Jacques Derrida, Ralph Acampora, Donna Haraway, and others have all granted compassion theoretical pride of place. They share a critique of the rationalist bias of the justice-and-rights tradition and suggest that compassionate attention to animals is the “ground upon which theory about human treatment of animals should be constructed” (Donovan, “Attention” 174). For many such contemporary thinkers, then, compassion—a deeply affective way of sharing another's emotion—is the fundamental means of forging the ethical bond we have with nonhuman animals. Replacing the “calculable process” of current animal-rights theories with the emotional encounter of the other's living—and dying—reality, compassion offers a new understanding of responsibility and relationships (Wolfe, “Exposures” 19).

Growing interest in the archive as an object of study for queer criticism justifies closer attention to the concept of provenance. For archivists, provenance imparts a fundamental measure of integrity to archival collections by certifying their origin and proper order. Record origin and order, however, rely on authorial identity to establish authenticity, placing provenance in tension with queer theories that describe subjectivity as polymorphous, not fixed. That tension leads Roger Casement's official reports on the atrocities committed against rubber gatherers in South America to use provenance as a credible—rather than strictly authentic—narrative structure for publicizing British investigations of imperial violence. Recognizing provenance as a practice of representation invites reconsideration of Casement's notorious private diaries, which document his sexual interest in large penises. Instead of simply providing evidence of homosexual identity, the diaries show how impersonal fantasy becomes a constituent part of archival practice.