^{page 459 note 1} Occasional also in the form of Europe. Strictly speaking it means the Ottoman Empire; but a natural popular confusion, arising partly from the influence of cartoonists, applies it to the Sultan.

^{page 459 note 2} See the textual report of Seymour in Blackwood's, 1854, p. 494; also Karl Marx, The Eastern Question, London, 1897, pp. 290–301. The Reader's Handbook, of Brewer, Philadelphia, 1893, has the date misprinted 1844 (s. v. Sick). As an example of the play on the expression in journalism, we may recall Blackwood's, 1854, p. 496: “L'homme gravement malade was exhibiting every symptom of convalescence and the only danger to be apprehended was from the Muscovite doctor, who, without being summoned, was preparing to administer his pills.” So recently as 1910, a course of lectures in the New York City public schools bore the title: The Sick Man of Europe.

^{page 461 note 1} I am unable to quote the text of Ferriol's letter, to which Professor E. A. Grosvenor, of Amherst College, kindly drew my attention.

^{page 460 note 2} Among the Cicogna manuscripts, Venice, Museo Civico, cod. Correr, 1229, pp. 173–6; cod. Correr, 1086, pp. 878–82. Cod. 1229 attributes the poem to Gian Francesco Busenello, but erroneously, for Busenello died in 1659. A Gian Francesco Busenello was living in Venice at the time this poem was composed; and he likewise wrote verses; but it is with works certainly by the elder poet that the ms. groups our satire. The attribution must therefore apply to him. The assignment to Pier Anzolo Zen is in Cod. 1086.

^{page 461 note 3} The literary work of this Zeno, which has been entirely forgotten, extended over the second half of the XVIIth century. He celebrated Venetian victories in the Glorie delle armi venete, Pinelli, Venezia, 1651, in collaboration with numerous contemporary academicians. In 1693 he contributed similarly to the Funerali accademici of Lazaro Ferro, and in 1698 wrote the biography of Marco Contarini, a Venetian avogador. His principal work, which places him among the forerunners of that efficient school of empirical critics of literature, Quadrio, Crescimbeni, Mazzuchelli, and Gimma, which flourished in the Settecento, is his Memoria de Scrittori Veneti patrizii ecclesiastici et secolari, Venezia, 1662. This book, important to the students of Venetian literature and incidentally of the Seicento, was given a second and corrected edition in 1774. Cicogna reviews it briefly in the Bibliografia, p. 357, and draws from it passim in the Iscrizioni veneziane. Gian Francesco Busenello was on intimate terms with Zeno, and carried on a poetical correspondence, of which some fragments remain. One deals with a loan of books, giving occasion for jocose reflections; another was prompted by the zuccari sent out on the wedding day of Zeno. Other encomiastic verses, all relating to the Turkish wars of 1680–90, are attributed to Zeno in Cod. 1086, cc. 862–892.

^{page 462 note 1} Frevassa, ‘fever’; for muême the mss. have mueve; but the copyists apparently misunderstood even the first words in the line: ‘pashas’ and ‘viceroys’ are vocative. Melifa, ‘strega’; Amurat is probably but a generic Turkish name without specific reference. For the allusion to the Drava, see below.

^{page 463 note 1} Intreghi is lacking in the mss., but the restitution seems obvious. Stilao, sc. vin: ‘brandy’; sgionfa, intransitive: ‘swells’; mss. volevimo. The last two verses mean: “If I couldn't cause trouble any other way, I would go to China and waken the cuckoos.”

^{page 463 note 2} Insei, < Lat. intus—illi; Ital. nei; the correction intei suggests itself; but I find insei in other mss. of this period. Sgionfa, here the tronco participle; possibly likewise in the preceding citation, if we restore è after panza. Castradina: ‘fattened mutton.‘

^{page 464 note 1} The text of the mss. is corrupt: v. 3: va is lacking in the mss.; in v. 6, they offer da, but dia alone makes sense: he is prescribing a treatment that will take her “a domatina,” the date vaguely set for his next visit; he is not describing the cause of her condition, which has already been exposed thoroughly in the body of the poem. For the meaning of popolazzi, some lines above, it is to be noted that -azzo is in Venetian most frequently a mere augmentative, without pejorative force.

^{page 465 note 1} Here they are. Prevesa and Santa Maura, in Morosini's campaign of 1684 (st. 25); Modon, Coron and Cabamata, 1685 (st. 26); Navarini, 1686 (st. 25); Napoli di Romania, 1686; Lepanto, May, 1687; Corinto, May, 1687; Patras, August 11, 1687 (sts. 25–26).

^{page 465 note 2} Cod. Correr, 1229, p. 199a; also attributed falsely to Busenello.

^{page 466 note 1} The famoso unguento is doubtless the unguentum gallicum, identical with that unguentum napolitanum, for which see below; it was a regular adjunct to the treatment of the stufa (stua). The reference is to the entente between France and the Porte during this period. For parallels to the idea that the allies of France were afflicted with mal francese, see also below. Bua, Ital. ‘avuta.‘

^{page 466 note 2} This term is here used in the sense of a short poem, with irregular metre, alternating rhymes with sciolti, tranchi, and piani, and hendecasyllables with settenari, etc. Recent studies show that the name madrigale was given already in the sixteenth century to canzoni of a single strophe, whether meant for music or not. Those here cited may however actually have been used in the humorous parts of melodramas. Those sung on the Venetian stage in the Seicento are full of political references.

^{page 466 note 3} Cod. Correr, 1193, c. 13a; anonymous. Also in cod. 1083, c. 565.

^{page 467 note 1} Cod. Correr, 1086, p. 831b. The ms. has cavao and provao; in v. 9 contro for entro; gh‘ in the last verse, a Venetianism for le in hiatus, i. e., gl‘, but also generally for gli. Cf. vv. 5, 7, 8. For the picture of the watchers at the bedside, compare the German prototypes, mentioned below.

^{page 467 note 2} Cod. Correr, 1086, p. 830.

^{page 469 note 1} In Catilinam, i, 12: “… periculum autem residebit et erit inclusus penitus in venis atque in visceribus rei publicæ. Ut sæpe homines ægri morbo gravi, cum æstu febrique jactantur, si aquam gelidam biberunt, primo relevari videntur, deinde multo gravius vehementiusque afflictantur, sic hic morbus, qui est in republica, relevatus istius poena, vehementius vivis reliquis ingravescebit.” Machiavelli, steeped as he was in Ciceronianism, doubtless had this passage in mind, when he wrote in Il Principe, iii: “I Romani feciono in questi casi quello che tutti i principi savi debbon fare; li quali non solamente hanno aver riguardo alli scandoli presenti, ma alli futuri, ed a quelli con ogni industria riparare; perchè prevedendosi discosto, facilmente vi si può rimediare: ma aspettando che ti s'appressino, la medicina non è più a tempo, perchè la malattia è divenuta incurabile; ed interviene di questa come dicono i medici dell'etica, che nel principio suo è facile a curare e difficile a conoscere; ma nel corso del tempo, non l'avendo nel principio conosciuta nè medicata, diventa facile a conoscere e difficile a curare. Così interviene nelle cose dello Stato: perchè conoscendo discosto … i mali che nascono in quello, si guariscon presto; ma quando per non gli aver conosciuti, si lascino crescere in modo che ognuno li conosce, non vi è più rimedio.” We may here observe that the double use of male, for ‘evil’ and ‘sickness’ in the Romance vocabulary, makes the transition from the literal to the figurative less abrupt than in English; such tropes and metaphors are in consequence much more frequent and less noteworthy.

^{page 469 note 2} Du Méril, Poésies populaires latines antérieures au XIIme siècle, Paris, Brockhaus, 1843, pp. 259 and 286.

^{page 470 note 1} See Fenigstein, Leonardo Giustiniani Halle, Niemeyer, 1909, p. 17: “Der Feind sei in solcher Verzweiflung, dass, wenn dem kranken Körper noch das Haupt fehlen würde, ein ruhmvolles Kriegsende erzwungen werden könnte,” in paraphrase of Barbaro's letter. Cf. for this passage, the sonnets on Napoleon, cited below.

^{page 471 note 1} For the reference in this paragraph to Medin, see his Storia della repubblica di Venezia nella poesia, Milano, 1904, pp. 19–20. For Saviozzo, cf. Segarizzi, La poesia di Venezia, Venice, 1909, p. 19. For other numerous examples, see D'Ancona, Il concetto dell' unità politica nei poeti italiani, in his Studj di critica e storia letteraria, Bologna, Zanichelli, 1880. On p. 66 is the citation from Galateo' s letters, cited after an article by De Sinone. For another casual specimen of Italy with “le membra straiate e morse,” see the Canzone all' Italia, of Geronimo di Verità, anno 1526, published in Miscellanea per le nozze Biadego-Bernardelli, 1896, Verona, p. 187. For satire on animals in the War of the Roses, see Tucker, Verse satire in England before the Renaissance, New York, 1908, pp. 44 and 127, and in general the chapter on political satire. Mr. Tucker also provides a discussion of medieval personification. On p. 31 is found the following: “Scarcely existent in the literature of Rome, hardly more so in that of Italy and Spain … the political satire is characteristically English.”—It is extremely difficult to avoid these harmless and inaccurate generalizations. Certainly if there is one tradition in Italian literature where the thread of originality and spontaneity is unbroken it is precisely in political satire. If the pasquinades are not serious enough, why forget Aretino, or Buratti, or Giusti?

^{page 472 note 1} To the German phases of the question my attention was kindly directed by Professor W. G. Howard of Harvard University.

^{page 472 note 2} In his edition of the Narrenbeschwörung, Leipzig, Brockhaus, 1879, pp. 31–2.

^{page 472 note 3} See the summary in the edition of Heinrich Kurz, Zürich, 1848, pp. xxxiv–vii: “Dieser grosse Narr ist aber nichts anderes als die Personifikation der reformatorischen Bestrebungen seiner Zeit …. Der Narr widersetzt sich der Beschwörung aber er muss sich endlich den mächtigen Worten des Beschwörers fügen. Zuerst kommen aus seinem Haupt die gelehrten Narren, welche die Bibel nach ihrem eigenen Sinne erklären; dann aus seiner Tasche diejenigen, welche nach den Gütern der Kirche lüstern sind; aus seinem Bauch kriechen hierauf die fünfzehn Bundsgenossen hervor, die mit Geist und Gewandtheit persifliert werden. … in seinen Schuhen sitzt Bruder Stiefelein (Verfasser mehrerer reformatorischen Schriften); in seiner Brust ist Karsthans verborgen, der durch einen wirksamen Trank zu Tage gefördert wird …” For the text, further than the editions cited, see Kürschner, Deutsche National-Litteratur, Stuttgart, vol. xvii.

^{page 473 note 1} Ott, Über Murners Verhältnis zu Geiler, Bonn, 1895, p. 101.

^{page 473 note 2} In Das Kloster of J. Scheible, Stuttgart, 1848, vol. 10, pp. 362–376.

^{page 473 note 3} Printed in Arber's English Reprints, London, 1871, vol. ii. The satire has been recently examined by Mr. Tucker in his volume on pre-Renaissance satire in England, already cited; and before him by Herford in his Studies in the literary relations of England and Germany, Cambridge, 1886.

^{page 474 note 1} If the Baldus of Folengo is inspired in part by the Folly of Erasmus, his Chaos del Triperuno, with its association to Lutheranism, has a relation to the other German satires of the Reformation, that we have mentioned. We may recall in this connection the study of Amalia Cesano: Hans Sachs ed i suoi rapporti con la letteratura italiana, Roma, 1904.

^{page 474 note 2} Böcking, Hutteni Opera, Leipzig, Teubner, 1859, vol. i, p. 112.

^{page 475 note 1} Storia della letteratura italiana, i, 24, after Muratori, v, 29.

^{page 475 note 2} Science has of course rejected both explanations; for this and for data on the literary vogue of the mal francese—which may be indefinitely increased in number—see the article of Luzio Renier in the Giornale Storico della letteratura italiana, 1885, pp. 408–432; also Vittorio Rossi: Di un motivo della poesia burlesca italiana nel sec. xvi, in appendix to his Le lettere di messer Andrea Calmo, Torino, Loescher, 1888, pp. 371–397. We may add that one of the best literary reflections of the then current scientific the theory of its diffusion through the French army accounts for the beginning of the expression's vogue; but the seed fell on ground fertilized by anti-French sentiment. Otherwise, mal indien or mal espagnol would have held the field.

^{page 477 note 1} Nicola Ruggieri, Maffio Venier, Udine, 1909, p. 23.

^{page 477 note 2} In Venice, at the Marciana, Ital. ix, cod. 460, pp. 98–113; cod. 470, pp. 39–47; in Vicenza, at the Bertoliana, cod. 1, 3, 31, pp. 1–12. Here it is entitled: Tramutazione delle prime ottave di ciaschedun canto dell' Ariosto nel Furioso contro il morbo gallico. The poem begins: “Le gonne, l'inquietudini, i dolori.” Rossi, op. cit. pp. 392–393, knew this document, but only in a Marciana codex, It. ix, 364. This I have not seen. Part of this ms. is in the hand of Marin Sanudo; which would make our poem probably of the sixteenth century. From its grouping in the mss. cited above I had supposed it to be of the seventeenth century; but doubtless it is to be classed with those pasquinades which were applied to several different situations, assuming in each case a new actuality. The imputation referred to below was true when applied to Francis I; but it could serve quite as well for satirical purposes against Louis XIV. Rossi's text has some variants from those I have seen: notably the correct reading for the first line: Le gomme, etc.

^{page 478 note 1} This figure of the Spanish army in the rôle of a tonic is to be associated, casually, with the similar figure in the first pamphlet of the nearly contemporaneous Satire Ménippée.

^{page 478 note 2} Here we have that play on the name of the famous Florentine house, which has a whole literature in the line of our locution.

^{page 479 note 1} Has any one pointed out the origin of this phrase? It seems to be a folk etymology for tentai, ‘sandal-wood,‘ which, moreover, is used extensively in sacred rites, as incense.

^{page 479 note 2} As for mal di creste, it is a humorous alteration of mal di croste, which Mr. Polidori notes in the Archivio Storico Italiano, iii, p. 34; the immediate association of course is with the gallo. The rôle of the mal de Naples or de Colombe in the Candide of Voltaire is conspicuous. In Dodsley's translation of that work, London, 1731, p. 14, is mentioned the unguentum napolitanum, an expression to be added to our list of related locutions.

^{page 480 note 1} Luigi Morandi, I sonetti romaneschi dì G. G. Belli, Città di Castello, Lapi, 1906, Vol. i, p. 178. For 1667 Morandi cites (p. 180) a pasquinade entitled Il Vaticano languente dopo la morte di Clemente IX, a form frequent with Pasquino and with eulogists.

^{page 480 note 2} In cod. Correr, 1229, c. 43; Marciana, coll. 6473, 169a; but also frequently elsewhere.

^{page 481 note 1} See Morsolin, Il Seicento, p. 67.

^{page 481 note 2} Fulvio Testi, Candia invasa dal Turco, Modena, 1651. Cf. Medin, op. cit., pp. 321–322. The verse on the “pardo ottomano” was written anonymously for the fall of Santa Maura, but our anachronism will be condoned.

^{page 481 note 3} The very form of the satirical testament, when used in broad and impersonal satire, creates, as in the Messkrankheit and in the “Povero mondo mio,” a parallel to our locution. Mr. Tucker has a few notes on this genre of satire, op. cit., p. 202, etc. The humorous testament had special vogue in the sub rosa literature of the Venetian Seicento. I recall for the moment those of Contarini and especially of Zuanne Garzoni—precisely that majestic figure of the Glorie degli Incogniti—who left a facetious legacy to the courtesanes of Venice, but who, in numberless codicils and letters of acknowledgment, was perhaps amply repaid. See Codex Querini-Stampalia, Cl. vi, xx, in Venice. The testament of Candia, cited above, is noted by Medin, pp. 355–358.

^{page 482 note 1} At Rouen, in cod. 571, 1707, of the Collection Coquebert-Montret, p. 188b., ff.

^{page 482 note 2} Obviously parodying the well known verses of Claudio Achillini, beginning “Sudate, o fuochi, a preparar metalli;” doubtless the first was meant also to suggest the famous canzone of Petrarch.

^{page 483 note 1} From Vittorio Malamani, I Francesi a Venezia e la satira, Venezia, 1887, p. 172.

^{page 484 note 1} In Gustav Fock's Antiquariats-Katalog 373, no. 266, Professor Howard, to whose kindly interest in this theme I am greatly indebted, notes a curious German satire of 1690, which I have been able to secure. It is entitled: Das an der Teutschen Colica danieder liegende Franckreich, vorinnen der heutige Zustand dieses Koenigreichs nebst kurtzen jedoch aber gruendlichen Entwurf der merckwuerdigsten Intrigues des Frantzoesischen Hofes aufgeloeset und vorgestellet werden mit Vermeldung der wahren Ursache warum so wenig der Koenig als Duc d' Orleans, und Monseigneur le Dauphin der Campagne in Teutschland und Niederland beywohnen wollen. Durch den Mercurius im Traum entdeckt dem Musastræo dell Montunione, Freystatt. Gedruckt im Jahr 1690. It is a pamphlet of sixty unnumbered pages in small quarto (mm. 193 x 164). Half the last page is in small type to economize on the new sheet. The text is divided into forty-three chapters. The language is full of gallicisms and Latin quotations. The type in Chapter viii fails to show a pasquinade in extemporized rhythm:

The author's name is associated with Musa and Astrea; probably Mont + unione likewise has its reference. Louis XIV appears as Theodates, King of the Gauls; the other personages are mentioned by their own names. The reason why Mercury is the guide through the French Court is obvious. Musastræo, fatigued and bewildered by the trash of political writings, retires to a sheltered spot to think his own thoughts. Though he is very drowsy, his interest is suddenly awakened, when he finds himself in the presence of gay revellers. Their radiant features suggest that this must be the Elysian fields; but the costumes are all French. Can France have conquered even the other world? Ah no, it is perhaps a maison de plaisance! But a stranger approaches. Musastræo is afraid of being taken for a spy; but on his learning it is Mercury, “seven of his five senses come to life again.” Mercury explains that this is the French court, and offers to guide his new friend through it. The first palace is devoted to card playing; over each table rules a queen; the rank of the queens is determined by the number and splendor of their conquests in love: then follows a series of tales relating the intrigues of the Duchess of Mecklenburg, Madame d'Olonne, Madame de Fiesque, la Mareschale de la Ferté, etc. Another palace contains the young nobles drinking; and Musastræo laments that even in this typically German accomplishment, his countrymen are far behind the French. Then comes a cloister where the mistresses of Louis XIV are quartered side by side. Leaving the licentious splendor of the palace, Musastræo is led into a field glowing with a strange light. In the vapor he sees devils slaughtering women and children; Mercury explains that these devils are French generals, whom he names; the ruins are Worms, Heidelberg, Speyer, etc. Mercury breaks out into a denunciation of the French, lauding Henry IV over Louis XIV. Returning to the Palace of the King, they find everything in suspense. The King is in great agony from a disease, called German Colic. The immediate cause is news from abroad: the Jacobites are beaten in England; the French are whipped in Holland; the invaders of Germany are in full retreat. At this report the dauphin, and the gentlemen of the court are also seized with the colic. The doctors apply a plaster composed of an invasion of Ireland and a bombardment of Civita Vecchia: but they do not avail after Londonderry and the destruction of the French fleet by the English. Then even stronger remedies are suggested: “eine Brandsalbe” invented by the Comte de Melac; “ein von denen Franzoesischen Dragonnern bereiteter Purgiertranck”; a “Goldtincktur”; “eine in Hoffnung wohl reüssirende Tuerkisch-Frantz-Alcorans Mixtur”; “das Wilhelminische Spionen Pflaster”; an English “Anti-Wilhelminum”; but it is at last decided that the disease is incurable: and that it will spread not only to the royal family entire, but to the whole of France.—Musastræo was about to come to the rescue with a valuable suggestion, when he fell off the stump where he was sleeping and awoke, firmly determined never to visit such a place as the French Court again.