ever much Holberg may love to enliven the dialogue by the introduction of pungent witticisms, he never does so at the expense of the dramatic consistency of his various characters, but every word that falls from them is in all respects appropriate to each allotted part. The plot in Holberg's comedies is, in the majority of cases, hardly designed to possess independent interest, or arrest notice by an artistic construction, or awaken wonder by the reciprocal play of external motions and relations; yet, on the other hand, the author knits it in such a masterly fashion to his characters, that it both obtains from these characters its own dramatic life, and places them before the mind's eye in clearest, fullest light. At the same time there is no lack of irresistibly comic scenes, caused by misunderstandings, blunders, or surprises,-scenes peculiarly effective on the stage. Holberg in this department possesses great inventive genius, and varies his ludicrous situations so frequently that one never experiences a sense of lassitude. To Plautus he bears considerable resemblance, as well in the plan of his plays and the portraiture of character as in the comic power of dialogue. Holberg himself assures us that he valued highly the Roman author; he set him much above Terence, and says that "his Amphitryo, Aulularia, and Menæchmi, are the greatest plays which we have." With regard to Molière, Holberg stands behind him in correctness and elegance of diction, in regularity of plot, and perhaps also in delineation of character; but he may almost be said to surpass the French writer in comic strength and force. Holberg seems to have planned his plots far more hastily than Molière, which often gives his plays, not to their advantage, somewhat of an improvised appearance; yet, for the same reason, there is sometimes a greater liveliness imparted to his dialogues than we find in those of Molière. In the erotic scenes Holberg is sure to fail, while the similar scenes of Molière are fraught with ease and grace. But why should we pursue the parallel? We may safely come to the conclusion that, if the Frenchman holds by common consent supreme place on the Parnassus of the comic drama, the Dane is entitled to take rank next to. and not greatly lower than, his predecessor's throne at the summit of the sacred hill.

It is exceedingly difficult, by translated extracts, to convey to the reader any full and satisfactory idea of the true character of Holberg's comedies. Each play should be considered as a whole, and read, at a single perusal, from beginning to end. Nor

will our space permit us to give at present more than the analysis of a single drama: Perhaps, however, this course of procedure may serve to communicate a livelier impres sion of the comic genius of Holberg, than if we were to quote a series of disjointed scenes, selected from many of his different plays. We therefore fix upon Erasmus Mon tanus, as one of his most striking works, and proceed to offer some account of it, accompanied by a few translations. Holberg's clear, forcible, idiomatic Danish prose loses not a little by its appearance in an English dress; but we will faithfully preserve all the meaning, and strive after an approxima tion to the spirit, of the vigorous original.

In Erasmus Montanus, the author pours flood of ridicule on the pedantry which was, in his day, so prevalent in Denmark; and he at the same time holds up to scorn the su perstition and ignorance that existed among the peasant classes. The contrast between the two things is brought out in strong re lief, and forms the special burthen of the whole drama. Its hero is the son of a yeoman, who has been sent by his father to the University of Copenhagen, in the natural paternal hope that he may advance himself in the world by his devotion to learned studies. At the time that the play opens his parents are expecting his return, and his be trothed, Lisbed, the daughter of Jeronimus, is also looking forward to it with happy anticipation. The first act is of a prefatory character, and Rasmus Berg, old Jeppe Berg's son (who had changed his name to the Latin form, Erasmus Montanus), does not make his appearance until the commencement of the second act. But in the first act there are some admirable scenes, especially the fourth and fifth, where Peer Degn, Peter the parish clerk,-who is a lu dicrous compound of crass ignorance and intolerable self-conceit,-plays the fool to perfection, unintentionally, in the presence of the youthful student's relations. The second act opens thus:

Montanus (with his stockings down about his ankles). I have only been a single day out of Copenhagen, and I am wearying already. If I could not have existed in the country. Studia had not brought with me my precious books, I secundas res ornant, adversis solatium prabent. It seems as if I lacked something, since I have had no disputation for whole three days. I know not if there are any learned persons in the village here; if there are, I will give them enough of work, for I cannot live without dismuch; for they are simple folks, who know putation. To my poor parents I cannot say hood, and so I have small consolation in their hardly aught but what they learned in childsociety. The clerk and the schoolmaster, it is

reported, have studied; but I know not to what extent. I will try, however, what they can do. My father and mother were alarmed when they saw me so early, for they had not expected that I would travel from Copenhagen in the night-time. (He strikes a light, applies it to his pipe, and puts the pipe's head through a hole which he has in his hat.) This I call smoking tobacco Studentikos. It is a good enough invention for one who would write and smoke simultaneously.-(Sits down to read.)

An amusing scene with his uncultivated brother Jacob terminates in Montanus hurling the book at his head in a rage, wherethe old mother and father appear :upon

Jeppe. What is this noise?

Jacob. My brother Rasmus was beating me. Nille. What does that matter? He has not beaten thee without reason.

Mont. No, mother; it is true. He comes hither and uses language to me as if I were his equal.

Nille. What a devil's imp! dost thou not know better how to respect such a learned man? dost thou not know that he is an honour to our whole house? My darling Herr Son! * Do not take it ill of him; he is only an ignorant blockhead.

Mont. I am sitting here and speculating on weighty matters, when this importunissimus and audicissimus juvenis comes in and disturbs me; to have to do with those Transcendentalibus is no child's play. I would not for two merks that it had taken place.

Jeppe. Ah, be not angry, my dear son! It shall never again happen. I am afraid that the Herr Son has got into a passion; learned folk bear not many interruptions. I know that Peer Clerk was in such a passion once, he could not get the better of it for three days.

Mont. Peer Clerk,—is he learned? Jeppe. Yen, truly, so long as I can remember we have had no clerk here in the village that could sing so well as he.

Mont. He may be very unlearned for all that. Jeppe. He preaches also most beautifully. Mont. He may be very unlearned for all that likewise.

Nille. Ah, no, Herr Son! how can he be unlearned, when he preaches well?

Mont. True enough, little mother,† all unlearned folk preach well; for, as they cannot out of their own heads write anything, they use borrowed sermons and learn by heart brave men's hom lies. which sometimes they don't themselves understand, while, on the other hand, a learned man would not employ such, but out of his own head would write his sermon. Believe me, it is a general fault in the country here, to judge of the learning of the students far too much by their preaching. But let the fellows dispute as I do; that is the touchstone of learn

The fond parents generally give Montanus the title of "Herr," in token of their respect for his extraordinary learning.

There is no single English word equivalent to the expressive" Morlille" of the Danes.

ing! I can dispute in good Latin on whatever subject you please. If any one were to say this table is a candlestick, I would maintain it, and I have done so many a time. Hear, little father! will you believe that he who drinks well is ha py?

Jeppe. I believe rather that he is miserable, for he may drink away both his understanding and his money.

Mont. I will prove to you that he is happy. Quicunque bene bibit, bene dormit. But it is true, you do not understand Latin. I must say it in Danish: He who drinks well sleeps well, is that not true?

Jeppe. True enough; for when I am halffuddled I sleep like a horse.

Mont. He who sleeps well sins not. Is not that true?

Jeppe. True enough; we don't sin so long as we are asleep.

Mont. He who sins not is happy.

Jeppe. True likewise.

Mont. Ergo, he who drinks well is happy. Little mother! I will change you into a stone. Nille. Nonsense! that would be worse to do. Mont. Now you will hear it done. A stone cannot fly.

Nille. Well, that is quite true, except it be thrown by somebody.

Mont. You cannot fly.

Nille. True also.

Mont. Ergo, little mother is a stone (Nille weeps). Why does little mother weep? Nille. All I am so afraid that I become a stone; my leas are getting cold already.

Mont. Make yourself easy, little mother, I will change you into a woman again. A stone can neither think nor talk.

Nill. It is true.

but talk it cannot.

I know not if it can think,

Mont. Little inother can talk. Nille. Yes, God be praised, and can talk like any poor peasant's wife.

Mont. Good. Ergo, little mother is not a stone.

Nille. Ah, that has done it; I have come to myself again. My faith, it requires strong heads for studying. I know not how their brains can stand it.

In the second scene of act third, Jesper the bailiff, and therefore a man of considerable importance among the simple country folk, comes to visit Montanus.

Jesper. Serviteur, Monsieur! tions on your arrival!

Congratula

Mont. Thanks, Mr. Bailiff. Jesp. I am very glad that we have now got such a learned man in our village. It must have cost much brain-racking before he could advance so far in his studies. I wish you also luck of your son, Jeppe Berg. Now you have joy in your old age.

Jeppe. Yes, doubtless.

Jesp. But listen, my dear Monsieur Rasmus, I want to ask you about something. Mont. My name is Montanus.

Jesp. (aside to Jeppe.) Montanus is Rasmus in Lutin.

Jeppe. Maybe so.

Jesp. Listen, my dear Monsieur Montanus Berg! I have heard that learned folk have the strangest notions. Is it true that they maintain in Copenhagen that the earth is round? Here, in the country, nobody will believe it; for how can such a thing be, seeing that the earth seems evidently flat?

Mont. The reason of that is, that the earth is so large that we cannot mark its rotundity. Jesp. Yes, that is quite true: the earth is big; it is almost half the size of the world. But listen, Monsieur, how many stars does it take to make a moon?

Mont. A moon! The moon is like Peblinge lake compared with the whole of New Zealand.

Jesp. Ha, ha, ha, ha! The learned folk are never right in their heads. I have heard, my faith, of some who say that the earth moves, and the sun sands still. Monsieur, I suppose, believes that also?

Mont, No rational man doubts it any longer. Jesp. Ha, ha, ha! if the earth moves, we must sometimes full and break our necks, then.

Mont. Cannot a ship move with you, and still you need not fall and break your neck on it, surely?

Jesp. But you say that the earth runs round; now, if the ship were to turn upside down, would not the people fall into the sea? Mont. Nay; I will explain it to you more clearly, if you will only have patience.

Jesp. My faith, I will hear nothing more about it! I would be mad if I believed such nonsense. So the earth may turn upside down, and still we may not tumble headlong into the devil's clutch below! Ha, ha, ha! But, my dear Monsieur Berg, how comes it that the moon is sometimes so little, and sometimes so large?

Peer. Welcome, Monsieur Rasmus Berg! Mont. In Copenhagen I am accustomed to be called Montanus; I pray you to address me thus..

Peer. Yea, truly; to me it is all one. How goes it in Copenhagen? Did many students pass examination this year?

Mont. The usual number. Peer. Were there any rejected? Mont. Two or three conditionaliter. Peer. Who is Imprimatur this year? Mont. What is the meaning of that? Peer. I mean who is Imprimatur for the verses and books that are sent to press? Mont. Is that Latin?

Peer. Yes, in my time it was good Latin. Mont. If it was once good Latin it must be good Latin still. But it has never been Latin in the sense that you attach to it.

Peer. Yes, by my faith, it is good Latin.
Mont. Is it then a nomen or a verbum?
Peer. It is a nomen.

Jesp. Right, Peer! Speak up bravely. Mont. Cujus declinationis is imprimatur, then?

Peer. All the words we can name may be referred to seven things, which are Nomen, Pronomen, Verbum, Principium, Conjugatio, De clinatio, Interjectio.

Jesp. Hear, hear! he speaks off-hand! him hard!

Only listen to Peer when That's right, Peer, grip

Mont. He answers not a syllable to the question I asked him. What has imprimatur in Genitivo?

Peer. Nominativus Ala, Genitivus Alae, Da tivus Alo, Vocativus Alo, Ablativus Ala. Jesp. Hear, hear, Monsieur Montanus! We too have learned folk in the country.

Peer. I should think so. There passed examination, my faith, different fellows in my time from those that pass examination now,

Jesp. Do, pray, let me know.

Mont. It comes of this, that when the moon has grown to its full size, they clip slices out of

it to make into stars.

Jesp. My faith, that is curious. I never knew such a thing before. If they did not clip slices out it would grow as broad as the whole of Zealand. Nature most wisely governs all things. But how comes it that the moon does not warm us like the sun, when it is every whit as big?

Mont. It comes of this, that the moon has no light, but is made of the same dark material as the earth, and borrows its radiance and lustre from the sun.

Jesp. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! let us speak about something else; it is such ridiculous. nonsense that one would get mad with thinking of it.

THIRD SCENE.

Jeppe, Nille, Montanus, Jesper, Peer Clerk. Jeppe. Welcome, Peer! where good folk already are, thither will good folk come. There you see my son, who has newly returned home.

passed examination, and he answers with something else at random.

Peer. Tunc tua res agitur, paries cum proximus ardet.

Jesp. Hear, hear! Now he's going ahead! Answer that, come?

Mont. I cannot answer,-it is sheer balderdash. Let us speak in our own language, which the others can understand, and they will soon get to know what sort of a fellow he is. Jesp. Why do you weep, grandame? (Nille weeps.)

Nille. I feel so grieved that my son should be beaten at his Latin.

Jesp. Peace, grandame! There is no wonder that he should. Besides, Peer is much older than he, and so there is no wonder. Let them now speak Danish, which we all understand.

Peer. Yes, yes! I am ready for whatever language he may choose. We will ask each other some questions; for example, Who was it that cried so loud that they could hear him over the whole world?

Mont. I know none that cry louder than donkeys and country parish-clerks.

Peer. Fudge! Can they be heard over the whole world? It was the ass in Noah's ark, for the whole world was in the ark.

Jesp. Ha, ha, ha! By my faith, that is true. Ha, ha, ha! There sits a clever head on Peer Clerk's shoulders.

Peer. Who smote to death the fourth part of mankind?

Mont. I do not reply to such vulgar questions.

Peer. It was Cain, who slew his brother Abel. Mont. Prove that there were only four persons then living.

Peer. Prove you that there were more. Mont. No need of that, for affirmanti incumbit probatio. Do you understand this?

Peer. To be sure. Omnia conando docilis solertia vincit. Do you understand this?

Mont. I am as great a simpleton myself, to stand here and argue with a blockhead. You pretend to dispute, and you neither know Danish nor Latin, far less what Logica is. Let me just ask; Quid est Logica?

Peer. Post molestam senectutem, post molestam senectutem nos habebit humus. Mont. Rascal! will you trifle with me? (Seizes him by the hair; they come to blows.) Peer. (Escapes crying) Blockhead!

head!

(Exeunt all, except the Bailiff.)

Block

Mont. But what is the matter? I think, my dear father-in-law, that you answer me coldly.

Jer. I have no reason to act otherwise. Mont. Why, what evil have I done? Jer. I am told that you hold such strange opinions; folk think that you must have gone crazy; for how can a rational creature fall into the folly of saying that the earth is round? Mont. Yes, truly, it is round; I must affirm that which I believe to be the fact.

Jer. It is no fact, in the devil's name! Such a thing must come from Satan, the father of lies. I am certain that there is not a person in the village who does not condemn such an idea; ask only the bailiff, who is a reasonable man, if he is not of the same opinion with myself?

Jesp. It is all one in the end to me, whether the earth be round or flat; but I must believe in my own eyes, which show me that it is as flat as a pancake.

Mont. It is also all one to me what thoughts the bailiff or any other person in the village may have about the matter; but this do I know, that the earth is round.

Jer. It is not round, in the devil's name. I trow you are clean crazy. Have you not eyes in your head like the rest of mortals?

Mont. It is quite well known, my dear father-in-law, that there are people dwelling right under us who turn their feet against ours. Jesp. Ha, ha, ha, hi, hi, hi, ha, ha, ha!

Jer. Yes, the bailiff may well laugh; for there is in reality a screw loose in your head. Just try now to walk under the roof here, and turn your head down, and see what will happen!

Mont. That is quite another thing, fatherin-law, for

Jer. Never will I be your father-in-law. I love my daughter too well to give her to one like you.

Mont. Your daughter is as dear to me as my own soul, that is certain; but that I should, for her sake, subvert philosophy, and drive my reason into exile, is more than you can possibly require.

Jer. Ha, ha! I perceive that you have some other sweetheart in your mind. Keep your Sophy or your Lucy then, and welcome! By my troth, I will not force on you my daughter.

Mont. You do not rightly understand me. Philosophy is nothing but a science, which has opened my eyes, as well in this respect as in other matters.

Jer. It has rather both blinded your eyes and your understanding. How can you make good such an opinion?

Mont. It is something which it is unnecessary to prove. No man of learning doubts it any longer.

Jesp. My faith, Peer Clerk will never confess that he believes it.

Mont. Peer Clerk! Yes, that is a stupid animal, and I am a fool that I stand here and talk to you of philosophy. But to oblige Monsieur Jeronimus, I will adduce a couple of proofs; first, the testimony of travellers, who, when they go some thousand miles from home,

have day when we have night, and see another heaven and other stars.

Jer. Are you a lunatic? Is there more than

one heaven and one earth?

Jesp. Yes, Monsieur Jeronimus! there are twelve heavens, the one higher than the other, until you get at last to the crystal heaven; there, so far he is right.

Mont. Alas, quanta tenebræ !

Jer. Why, in my youth I was sixteen times at the fair of Kiel, but as sure as I am an honest man I never saw any other heaven than the one we have at home.

Mont. You must travel sixteen times as far, Domine Jeronime! before you can observe such a thing; for

Jer. Have done with this nonsense; it is nothing to the purpose! let us hear the second proof.

Mont. The second proof is eclipses of the sun and moon.

taken from

He has gone

Jesp. Only listen to him now! fairly mad. Mont. What do you think that eclipses are? Jesp. Eclipses are certain signs placed in the sun and the moon when any mishap is to occur on the earth, which I can prove from my own experience; for example, when my wife took ill three years ago, and when my daughter Gertrude died, there were eclipses both times previously.

Mont. It will drive me frantio to hear such drivel.

Jer. The bailiff is right; for an eclipse never happens except it has something to portend. When the last eclipse took place everything seemed to be well, but this did not last long; because a fortnight afterwards we got tidings from Copenhagen that there were whole six candidates rejected at graduation-all men of quality, and among them two deans' sons. If we do not hear of something bad in some place after such an eclipse, we are sure to hear of something bad in another.

Mont. That is doubtless true; for there never passes a single day without some mishap occurring in some part of the world. But as regards these students, they did not need to lay the blame on the eclipse, for if they had studied more closely they would not have been rejected at last.

Jer. What, then, is an eclipse of the moon? Mont. It is nothing else than the shadow of the earth, which deprives the moon of the light of the sun; and as the shadow is round, it is thereby plain that the earth is round likewise. All this occurs in the course of nature-for we can calculate eclipses; and it is foolery to say that such things are prognostic of evil.

Jer. Ugh, Mr. Bailiff! I am ready to expire. It was in an unhappy hour that your parents sent you to your studies.

Jesp. Yes; he is nearly becoming an atheist. I must have Peer Clerk to tackle him again. That is a man, now, who speaks with emphasis. He shall sufficiently convince you-in Latin or in Groek, as you please-that the earth (God be praised!) is as flat as my hand. But here come Madame Jeronimus and her daughter.

he

nt.

can

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There follows an affecting interview be tween Montanus and his betrothed, when she earnestly entreats him to surrender his opinion, and for her sake agree to believe in the flatness of the earth; but he lends a deaf In the fourth ear to her repeated request. act Montanus receives a letter from her, upbraiding him with his cruelty, and informing him that if he does not hold the same faith held by all other persons in the neighbour. hood, not merely will her father never bestow on him her hand, but that she herself will pine away and die. Montanus has a hard struggle; but at last decides for philosophy instead of love. In the fifth act we have a t new character introduced, a lieutenant in stances of the case, undertakes to set all the army, who, knowing the whole circumtered to Montanus. This operation is de matters right by a sharp correction adminis scribed as follows :

SCENE SECOND.

The Lieutenant, Montanus.

Lieut. I congratulate you on your arrival in t the village.

Mont. I heartily thank you.

Lieut. I take the liberty of visiting you, as there are not many learned men here with whom one can converse.

Mont. I am glad to hear that you have studied. When did Mr. Lieutenant pass his final examination, may I ask?

Lieut. Ten years ago.

Mont. So then Mr. Lieutenant is an old academicus. What was Mr. Lieutenant's chief study when he was a student?

Lieut. I read for the most part ancient Latin anthors, and studied the law of nature and of morals, as I still continue to do.

Mont. Nay, that is trumpery, it is not academ icum. Did you never apply yourself to Philo sophiam instrumentalem?

Lieut. Not particularly.

Mont. Then you have never disputed?
Lieut. No.

Mont. What? is that to study? Philosophia instrumentalis is the only solid studium. The rest may be pretty enough, but it is not learn ing. One who is well versed in Logica and Metaphysica can extricate liimself from every thing, and can argue on all subjects, although he is a stranger to them. There is no point which I might not undertake to defend, and where I would not be successful. There was never any disputation at the university, where I did not step forth as the opponent. A Philo sophus instrumentalis can pass for a Polyhistor. Lieut. Who is the greatest disputant at the present time?

so that he

Mont. It is a student called Peer Iversen. When he has refuted his antagonist, has not a word more to answer, he says, "Sap port now my thesis, and I, again, will defend yours." For all this he is helped wonderfully by his Philosophia instrumentalis. It is a pity

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