that we also some books, those that most needful are for all
men to be acquainted with, that we turn those into the speech
which we all can understand, and that ye do as we very easily
may with God’s help, if we have the requisite peace, that all
the youth which now is in England of free men, of those who
have the means to be able to go in for it, be set to learning,
while they are fit for no other business, until such time as
they can thoroughly read English writing: afterwards further
instruction may be given in the Latin language to such as are
intended for a more advanced education, and are to be prepared
for higher office. As I then reflected how the teaching of the
Latin language had recently decayed throughout this people of
the Angles, and yet many could read English writing, then began
I among other various and manifold businesses of this kingdom
to turn into English the book that is called _Pastoralis_ in
Latin, and _Hierdebóc_ (Shepherding-Book) in English, sometimes
word for word, sometimes sense for sense, just as I learned
it of Plegmund my archbishop, and of Asser my bishop, and of
Grimbald my priest, and of John my priest. After I had learned
it so that I understood it and could render it with fullest
meaning, I translated it into English; and to each see in my
kingdom I will send one; and on each there is an “æstel” (ón
ælcre bið án æstel), which is of the value of 50 mancuses. And
I command in the name of God that no man remove the “æstel”
from the book, nor the book from the minster. No one knows how
long such learned bishops may be there, as now, thank God!
there are in several places; and therefore I would that they
(the books) should always be at the place; unless the bishop
should wish to have it with him, or it should be anywhere on
loan, or any one should be writing another copy.
It has never been satisfactorily decided what kind of object is meant by
the “æstel” which accompanied every one of the presentation copies of the
_Hierdebóc_. Dr. Sweet translates thus: “And on each there is a clasp
worth fifty mancus. And I command in God’s name that no man take the
clasp from the book, or the book from the minster.” Dr. Bosworth, in his
Dictionary, explained æstel as a writing-tablet, and identified the word
with “astula” in Du Cange. Now it is not easy to see the propriety of
combining so personal a thing as a note-book with a volume designed for
common use. Nor could such an object be a fixture upon the great book,
which is what the king’s phrase (ón ælcre bið) seems to require. On the
other hand, Dr. Sweet’s clasp is indeed a fixture, but of such a kind as
to be a part of the book itself which could not be removed without wilful
mutilation, and it does not appear that the king in his injunction is
apprehensive of so flagrant an outrage as that.
My own impression is that the clue to the interpretation is furnished by
a Glossary of the eleventh century, which gives “indicatorium” as the
equivalent of æstel (Wright-Wülker, i. 327). I imagine a marker either of
metal or of wood with metal fittings, so constructed as to be fixed upon
the binding, and to bring a small plank across the page wherever desired.
This would keep the parchment flat when apt to buckle, would mark the
reader’s or transcriber’s place, and would minimise the risk of injury by
fingering. It would be attached to one of the boards only in a movable
way, perhaps with a screw, and consequently would require a strict and
imperative rule to secure it from misplacement. The derivation might well
be from “astula” (= assula).
This great epistolary Preface is followed by a second, of another theme
and another type. The first is conceived in the statesmanlike spirit of
a king who is meditating of civil order and education in a country that
has almost lapsed into barbarism. The second is the utterance of the
literary artist concerning the book he has translated, the author and his
merits, and the weight of his authority, not disregarding the history and
transmission of the very codex over which he has been at work. The first
of these prefaces is in strong and ragged prose; the second is in heroic
verse, which recalls the tradition that Alfred was fond of the old songs
of his native land.
Þis ærendgewrit Agustinus
ofer sealtne sæ suðan brohte
ieg-buendum, swa hit ær fore
adihtode drihtnes cempa
Rome papa. Ryhtspell monig 5
Gregorius gleawmod gind wód
ðurh sefan snythro searoðonca hord.
Forðæm he monncynnes mæst gestriende
rodra wearde, Romwara betest,
monna módwelegost, mærðum gefrægost. 10
Siððan min on Englisc Ælfred kyning
awende worda gehwelc, and me his writerum
sende suð and norð; heht him swelcra má
brengan bi ðære bisene, ðæt he his biscepum
sendan meahte forðæm hi his sume ðorften, 15
ða ðe Lædenspræce læste cuðon.
I append an alliterative translation, which runs almost line for line:—
This epistle Augustine
over salt sea brought from the south
to us island-dwellers, just as it erst
indited had been by Christ’s doughty soldier
the Roman pontiff. Much right discourse 5.
did Gregory of glowing wit give forth apace
with skilful soul, a hoard of studious thought.
He of mankind converted the most
to the Ruler of heaven: he of Romans the best,
of men the most learned and widest admired. 10.
At length into English, Alfred the King
wended[32] my every word: and me to his writers
south and north sent out; more copies of such
he bade them bring back, that he to his bishops
might send, for some of them needed it, 15.
those who with Latin speech had least acquaintance.
A few notes may be useful here. In the first line the expression “This
epistle” applies to the entire work, because it is addressed by Gregory
to John, Bishop of Ravenna, and opens with a dedication in epistolary
form.
The poet has a warm feeling for the very manuscript he has been bending
over, which he venerates as a sacred relic, because it was one of the
books which were brought to this island by Augustine, Gregory’s chosen
missionary.
In lines 8-10 is there not a reminiscence of the closing lines of the
_Beowulf_?
At verse 11 there is an abrupt transition, and the after part is in an
altered manner. The book itself becomes the speaker, and in the diction
we recognise the manner of him who dictated to his goldsmith the now
famous legend:
ÆLFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN.
In line 12 we should particularly note the assertion which is couched in
the words “awende worda gehwelc,” a marked and idiomatic phrase which
may be represented in Latin thus: “vertit verborum quodque,” _i.e._
translated every word. This does not point to any rule or restriction
in the manner of rendering, as if the translator had tasked himself
to a verbal fidelity, for in his first preface, speaking of this very
work, he had plainly said that he had sometimes rendered word by word
and sometimes sense for sense (hwilum word be worde, hwilum andgit of
andgite). But what he meant to say was this, that whereas in his other
translations he had used his originals as passive material to be wrought
upon and converted as his own design and purpose guided him, he had
treated Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_ as he would treat Scripture, wherein
nothing could be added nor taken away.
To conclude the subject of Alfred’s Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_, let it be
noted, that not only is it one of the books which are said to have been
translated by the king, but the statement is made by himself speaking in
the first person, and with a singular circumstantiality, and that besides
this the book is distinguished by three peculiar incidents: (1) That the
translation was entire; (2) that a copy of it was sent to every bishop;
(3) that the king was pleased to celebrate the memorable history of the
copy upon which he had worked.
As the chief of Alfred’s translations the _Hierdebóc_ has naturally taken
up much of our space, and we must now be brief on the _Dialogues_. And
indeed we have the less to say because the Alfredian version has not yet
been edited.[33] It exists in three manuscripts of the eleventh century,
one in the Cotton Library, and the other two at Oxford and Cambridge.
This translation is reputed to have been made by Werferth, Bishop of
Worcester, but the authority for this statement is late and of doubtful
value. There is no mention of it in the preface, where the king speaks in
the first person, and acknowledges the services of friends who had acted
as transcribers. It runs thus:—
“I, Alfred, by the grace of Christ, dignified with the honour of royalty,
have assuredly understood, and through the reading of holy books have
often heard, that we to whom God hath given so much eminence of worldly
distinction, have peculiar need at times to humble and subdue our minds
to the divine and spiritual law, in the midst of this earthly anxiety;
and I accordingly sought and requested of my trusty friends that they
for me, out of pious books about the conversation and miracles of holy
men, would transcribe the instruction that hereinafter followeth: that I,
through the admonition and love being strengthened in my mind, may now
and then contemplate the heavenly things in the midst of these earthly
troubles.”
Such is the preface in the two manuscripts at Oxford and Cambridge; but
in lieu of this the Cotton manuscript has a preface in high-pitched
archaic and stilted prose wherein the book speaks and sets forth that it
was transcribed by order of a Bishop Wulfstan from a copy that was given
him by King Alfred, whose name is glorified with romantic superlatives
of eulogy. This is poor apocryphal stuff, but yet as a glimpse at
the posthumous cultus of Alfred’s fame it is interesting and even
valuable.[34]
Bede’s _History_ was the most modern of the books on Alfred’s list. In
this book the translator omitted considerable sections and added none.
There is no contemporary record that the translator was King Alfred.
The earliest extant statement of the kind is in Ælfric’s _Homily on St.
Gregory’s Day_, where the preacher, referring to “Historia Anglorum,”
as he calls it, adds, “which King Alfred translated out of Latin into
English.” Though a hundred years later, this is nevertheless excellent
testimony, and it has been supported both by later historians and until
recently by modern critics.
But now the latest editor,[35] Mr. Thomas Miller, has pointed out some
radical differences of dialect between the West Saxon of the _Cura
Pastoralis_ and the English of this translation, which he locates in the
northern part of Mercia. He is further guided by certain ecclesiastical
considerations (especially the contents of the parts omitted) to select
Litchfield as the spot where the translation was probably made. The
evidence is too multifarious to be stated here, but it seems worthy to
receive a searching examination and discussion.
So far we have treated of the more conspicuous and better-known of
the king’s writings; we must now make mention of his minor works. In
“The Shrine: a Collection of Occasional Papers on Dry Subjects,” which
appeared at irregular intervals from 1864 to 1870, the Rev. Oswald
Cockayne published for the first time two works which claim to rank among
Alfredian literature. These he entitled, _King Ælfred’s Book of Martyrs_
and _Blooms by King Ælfred_.
The _Blooms_ are a translation or adaptation of Augustine’s Soliloquies
and his Epistle to Paulina on the Vision of God, intermingled with
extracts from the _City of God_ and from Gregory, and from Jerome, and
withal many passages that appear to be original. The English of the
book is a debased Saxon of the twelfth century. The title _Blooms_ is a
translation of “blostman,” which is repeatedly used of the work in the
Anglo-Saxon text. There is a preface, in which the work is spoken of
under another figure—that of collecting material to build a house. At
the close we read, “Here end the sayings which King Alfred collected.”
Lappenberg classed the book (then unprinted) among the apocryphal works
of the king, and Pauli thought that some compiler of the twelfth century
had used the name of the king whose memory was still dear to the people.
But in 1877 Professor Wülker took it up, and he soon changed the aspect
of the case. He showed, in a highly convincing manner, that this book
has an intimate relation with Alfred’s _Boethius_, that it carries on an
argument which was broached there, and that the two books must be from
the same hand. His inference is that it was done after the _Boethius_,
and that it was (apparently) the latest work upon which the king was
engaged. In 1894 the affinity between the two books was further confirmed
by Mr. Frank G. Hubbard in _Modern Language Notes_. Specially convincing
are two brief touches in chapter xvii., which echo the argument of the
similarly numbered chapter in Alfred’s _Boethius_ which I have called an
apology. The book is in an imperfect state.
[Illustration: THE SEASONS—OCTOBER TO DECEMBER
(_Cottonian Library_)]
The _Book of Martyrs_ is also imperfect, beginning at December 31 with
St. Columba, and ending with St. Thomas, December 21. The first day of
January is called “the eighth Yule day” (se eahteða geohhel dæg). There
are four manuscripts of this book, and one of them, a fragment of two
leaves, appears to be of Alfred’s time. Moreover, of the saints which
are recorded none are later than the ninth century. Another argument
is that under November 15 is given a Life of St. Milus, which must
(says Cockayne) have been brought direct from Syria to England, and
probably from Helias, the patriarch of Jerusalem, with whom Alfred had a
correspondence, according to the nearly contemporary _Leech Book_. These
evidences appear to Wülker to justify the conclusion of Cockayne, “that
the Martyr Book here presented was at least in use in Ælfred’s time, and
was probably then composed.”
We must now mention some titles of books imputed to the king. By the
third generation after Alfred the tradition of his literary activity had
already assumed mythical proportions. The Latin historian Æthelweard
says that nobody knows how many volumes he produced (_volumina numero
ignoto_). William of Malmesbury says that at the time of his death he
was working at a translation of the Psalter. There is a poetical work
of maxims and proverbs in which each of the detached sentences begins
with “Thus said Alfred.” This book opens with an assembly of notables
at Seaford, presided over by King Alfred, the Shepherd and Darling of
England. These Proverbs of Alfred appear to be a composition of the
twelfth century. Moreover, he is said to have translated into English the
Fables of Æsop. He is also credited with a treatise on Falconry.
But if in one direction the tradition has reached a fabulous extreme, it
is possible, on the other hand, that there may still remain something of
his which has been overlooked or has not been adequately recognised. I
allude to the Saxon Chronicle, about the king’s relation to which there
is doubtless more to be said than has yet found a place in literature. To
speak but of one section—I never can read the annals of 893-897 without
seeming to hear the voice of King Alfred. Among the illuminations of the
approaching anniversary, we may hope that a clearer light will be shed
upon this interesting question.
The Will of Alfred is a very remarkable document, and opens to us more
than might be expected of family arrangements as to property. That
coupling of the names of Æþered and Ælfred which has such a singular and
conspicuous appearance in the Chronicle receives some very practical
illustration. There were at that time no professional men to make Wills,
and we have no cause to doubt that the diction is Alfred’s, as it
purports to be, being indited in the first person. There is much in this
document to provoke inquiry and research, and it would probably repay the
diligent student for a closer investigation than it has hitherto received.
In our time when books are freely produced in great abundance, it is
hard to appreciate the power and originality of King Alfred’s work in
the field of literature. When we look about for his motives we find
such as these: need of occasional retirement and solace in the midst
of harassing affairs, desire for personal improvement and edification,
strong intellectual appetites, etc.—but all these controlled by one chief
and dominant purpose, that of national education. Looking at the external
aspect of the king’s situation we might have judged it sufficient for him
at that time to concentrate his energies upon the restoration of material
prosperity and the strengthening of the national armaments. That the
prior necessity of these was not overlooked, we have ample proof in
the subsequent progress of Wessex. But this did not satisfy the kingly
ambition of Alfred; he craved for his people the higher benefits of
political life, their moral and intellectual and spiritual development.
Curiosity may well prick us to ask from what source far-reaching aims
like these so suddenly burst into our history, and that, too, at a time
of exhaustion at home and apprehension from abroad. If King Alfred saw a
connection between general education and the acquisition of wealth (as
there is some indication that he did), this may partly explain the energy
of his educational policy, but we still desiderate something more. If
we might assume that being under a strong sense of what he had himself
gained by his early education, he desired to impart the like advantages
to his people, then and only then the problem would find its appropriate
and adequate solution.
The beginnings of modern education in the seventh century were quickened
with the sense that something had been lost, and the whole movement
was coloured with the sentiment of retrieval and recovery. Two great
historical exhibitions of this effort are displayed in the Latin schools
of Anglia and of Charlemagne, which are in fact but two parts of one
movement, linked together by the name of Alcuin.
King Alfred’s educational revival is isolated from the preceding by the
wars and desolations of the Wicingas, and it starts with a new basis
in the installation of the mother tongue as the medium of elementary
teaching. To this innovation it is due that we alone of all European
nations have a fine vernacular literature in the ninth and tenth and
eleventh centuries. And the domestic culture of that era, I take it, was
the cause why the great French immigration which followed in the wake of
the Norman Conquest did not finally swamp the English language.
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST
BY SIR FREDERICK POLLOCK
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST[36]
At first sight Anglo-Saxon law may appear merely barbarous to the modern
reader. In order to be just to it we must consider its surroundings.
Anglo-Saxon life was rough and crude as compared not only with any modern
standard but with the amount of civilisation which survived, or had been
recovered, on the Continent. There was very little foreign trade, not
much internal traffic, nothing like industrial business of any kind on
a large scale, and (it need hardly be said) no system of credit. Such
conditions gave no room for refined legal science applied by elaborate
legal machinery, such as those of the Roman Empire had been and those
of modern England and the commonwealths that have sprung from her were
to be. Such as the men were, such had to be the rules and methods
whereby some kind of order was kept among them. Our ancestors before
the Norman Conquest lived under a judicial system, if system it can be
called, as rudimentary in substance as it was cumbrous in form. They
sought justice, as a rule, at their primary local court, the court of
the hundred, which met once a month, and for greater matters at a higher
and more general court, the county court, which met only twice a year,
except, perhaps, for merely formal business. We say purposely met rather
than sat. The courts were open-air meetings of the freemen who were
bound to attend them, the _suitors_ as they are called in the terms of
Anglo-Norman and later medieval law; there was no class of professional
lawyers; there were no judges in our sense of learned persons specially
appointed to preside, expound the law, and cause justice to be done; the
only learning available was that of the bishops, abbots, and other great
ecclesiastics. This learning, indeed, was all the more available and
influential because, before the Norman Conquest, there were no separate
ecclesiastical courts in England. There were no clerks nor, apparently,
any permanent officials of the popular courts; their judgments proceeded
from the meeting itself, not from its presiding officer, and were
regularly preserved only in the memory of the suitors. A modern student
or man of business will at first sight wonder how this rude and scanty
provision for judicial affairs can have sufficed even in the Dark Ages.
But when we have reflected on the actual state of Anglo-Saxon society, we
may be apt to think that at times the hundred and the county court found
too little to do rather than too much. The materials for what we now call
civil business practically did not exist.
There is now no doubt among scholars that the primary court was the
hundred court. If the township had any regular meeting (which is quite
uncertain), that meeting was not a judicial body. The King, on the other
hand, assisted by his Council of wise men, the Witan,[37] had a superior
authority in reserve. It was allowable to seek justice at the king’s
hands if one had failed, after due diligence, to obtain it in the hundred
or the county court. Moreover the Witan assumed jurisdiction in the first
instance where land granted by the king was in question, and perhaps in
other cases where religious foundations or the king’s great men were
concerned. Several examples of such proceedings are recorded, recited
as we should say in modern technical speech, in extant land-charters
which declare and confirm the result of disputes, and therefore we know
more of them than we do of the ordinary proceedings in the county and
hundred courts, of which no written record was kept. But they can have
had very little bearing, if any, on the daily lives of the smaller folk.
In important cases, the county court might be strengthened by adding the
chief men of other counties; and, when thus reinforced, there is hardly
anything to distinguish it from the Witan save that the king is not there
in person.[38] The king might act as arbitrator or give advice to his
immediate dependents to compromise their suits; but there was no regular
way of appealing from the judgments of the popular courts.
Some considerable time before the Norman Conquest, but how long is not
known, bishops and other great men had acquired the right of holding
courts of their own and taking the profits in the shape of fines and
fees, or what would have been the king’s share of the profits. My own
belief is that this began very early, but there is no actual proof
of it. Twenty years after the Conquest, at any rate, we find private
jurisdiction constantly mentioned in the Domesday Survey, and common in
every part of England: about the same time, or very shortly afterwards,
it was recognised as a main ingredient in the complex and artificial
system of feudalism. After having grown in England, as elsewhere, to
the point of threatening the king’s supremacy, but having happily
found in Edward I. a master such as it did not find elsewhere before
the time of Richelieu, the manorial court is still with us in a form
attenuated almost to the point of extinction. It is not material for the
later history of English law to settle exactly how far the process of
concession or encroachment had gone in the time of Edward the Confessor,
or how fast its rate was increasing at the date of the Conquest. There
can be no doubt that on the one hand it had gained and was gaining speed
before “the day when King Edward was alive and dead,”[39] or on the other
hand that it was further accelerated and emphasised under rulers who
were familiar with a more advanced stage of feudalism on the Continent.
But this very familiarity helped to make them wise in time; and there
was at least some foreshadowing of royal supremacy in existing English
institutions. Although the courts of the hundred and the county were
not the king’s courts, the king was bound by his office to exercise
some general supervision over their working. He was represented in the
county court by the sheriff; he might send out commissioners to inquire
and report how justice was done, though he could not interfere with the
actual decisions. The efficiency of these powers varied in fact according
to the king’s means and capacity for exercising them. Under a wise and
strong ruler like Alfred or Æthelstan they might count for much; under a
feeble one like Æthelred they could count for very little.