CHAPTER I.

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A Literary History of the English People

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London: T. FISHER UNWIN.

[Illustration:

HELIOG DUJARDIN IMP.CH.WITTMANN PARIS

MEDIAEVAL LONDON

_from manuscript 16 F. II in the British Museum_

]

A Literary History of

The English People

from the Origins

To the Renaissance

By

J. J. Jusserand

London

T. Fisher Unwin

Mdcccccv

PREFACE

Many histories have preceded this one; many others will come after. Such

is the charm of the subject that volunteers will never be lacking to

undertake this journey, so hard, so delightful too.

As years go on, the journey lengthens: wider grows the field, further

advance the seekers, and from the top of unexplored headlands, through

morning mists, they descry the outlines of countries till then unknown.

They must be followed to realms beyond the grave, to the silent domains

of the dead, across barren moors and frozen fens, among chill rushes and

briars that never blossom, till those Edens of poetry are reached, the

echoes of which, by a gift of fairies or of muses, still vibrate to the

melody of voices long since hushed.

More has been done during the last fifty years to shed light on the

origins than in all the rest of modern times. Deciphering, annotating,

printing, have gone on at an extraordinary pace and without

interruption; the empire of letters has thus been enlarged, according to

the chances of the explorers' discoveries, by gardens and deserts,

cloudy immensities, and boundless forests; its limits have receded into

space: at least so it seems to us. We laugh at the simplicity of honest

Robertson, who in the last century wondered at the superabundance of

historical documents accessible in his time: the day is not far distant

when we shall be laughed at in the same way for our own simplicity.

The field of literary history widens in another manner yet, and one that

affects us more nearly. The years glide on so rapidly that the traveller

who started to explore the lands of former times, absorbed by his task,

oblivious of days and months, is surprised on his return at beholding

how the domain of the past has widened. To the past belongs Tennyson,

the laureate; to the past belongs Browning, and that ruddy smiling face,

manly and kind, which the traveller to realms beyond intended to

describe from nature on his coming back among living men, has faded

away, and the grey slab of Westminster covers it. A thing of the past,

too, the master who first in France taught the way, daring in his

researches, straightforward in his judgments, unmindful of consequences,

mindful of Truth alone; whose life was a model no less than his work.

The work subsists, but who shall tell what the life has been, and what

there was beneficent in that patriarchal voice with its clear, soft, and

dignified tones? The life of Taine is a work which his other works have

not sufficiently made known.

The task is an immense one; its charm can scarcely be expressed. No one

can understand, who has not been there himself, the delight found in

those far-off retreats, sanctuaries beyond the reach of worldly

troubles. In the case of English literature the delight is the greater

from the fact that those silent realms are not the realms of death

absolute; daylight is perceived in the distance; the continuity of life

is felt. The dead of Westminster have left behind them a posterity,

youthful in its turn, and life-giving. Their descendants move around us;

under our eyes the inheritors of what has been prepare what shall be. In

this lies one of the great attractions of this literature and of the

French one too. Like the French it has remote origins; it is ample,

beautiful, measureless; no one will go the round of it; it is impossible

to write its complete history. An attempt has been made in this line for

French literature; the work undertaken two centuries ago by

Benedictines, continued by members of the Institute, is still in

progress; it consists at this day of thirty volumes in quarto, and only

the year 1317 has been reached. And with all that immense past and those

far-distant origins, those two literatures have a splendid present

betokening a splendid future. Both are alive to-day and vigorous; ready

to baffle the predictions of miscreants, they show no sign of decay.

They are ever ready for transformations, not for death. Side by side or

face to face, in peace or war, both literatures like both peoples have

been in touch for centuries, and in spite of hates and jealousies they

have more than once vivified each other. These actions and reactions

began long ago, in Norman times and even before; when Taillefer sang

Roland, and when Alcuin taught Charlemagne.

The duty of the traveller visiting already visited countries is to not

limit himself to general descriptions, but to make with particular care

the kind of observations for which circumstances have fitted him best.

If he has the eye of the painter, he will trace and colour with

unfailing accuracy hues and outlines; if he has the mind of the

scientist, he will study the formation of the ground and classify the

flora and fauna. If he has no other advantage but the fact that

circumstances have caused him to live in the country, at various times,

for a number of years, in contact with the people, in calm days and

stormy days, he will perhaps make himself useful, if, while diminishing

somewhat in his book the part usually allowed to technicalities and

aesthetic problems, he increases the part allotted to the people and to

the nation: a most difficult task assuredly; but, whatever be his too

legitimate apprehensions, he must attempt it, having no other chance,

when so much has been done already, to be of any use. The work in such a

case will not be, properly speaking, a "History of English Literature,"

but rather a "Literary History of the English People."

Not only will the part allotted to the nation itself be greater in such

a book than habitually happens, but several manifestations of its

genius, generally passed over in silence, will have to be studied. The

ages during which the national thought expressed itself in languages

which were not the national one, will not be allowed to remain blank, as

if, for complete periods, the inhabitants of the island had ceased to

think at all. The growing into shape of the people's genius will have to

be studied with particular attention. The Chapter House of Westminster

will be entered, and there will be seen how the nation, such as it was

then represented, became conscious, even under the Plantagenets, of its

existence, rights and power. Philosophers and reformers must be

questioned concerning the theories which they spread: and not without

some purely literary advantage. Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke are the

ancestors of many poets who have never read their works, but who have

breathed an air impregnated with their thought. Dreamers will be

followed, singers, tale-tellers, and preachers, wherever it pleases them

to lead us: to the Walhalla of the north, to the green dales of Erin,

to the Saxon church of Bradford-on-Avon, to Blackheath, to the "Tabard"

and the "Mermaid," to the "Globe," to "Will's" coffee house, among

ruined fortresses, to cloud-reaching steeples, or along the furrow sown

to good intent by Piers the honest Plowman.

The work, the first part of which is now published, is meant to be

divided into three volumes; but as "surface as small as possible must be

offered to the shafts of Fortune," each volume will make a complete

whole in itself, the first telling the literary story of the English up

to the Renaissance, the second up to the accession of King Pope, the

last up to our own day. The present version has been prepared with the

help of M. E. R., who have once more lent me their most kind and

valuable assistance. I beg them to accept the expression of my heartfelt

gratitude.

No attempt has been made to say everything and be complete. Many notes

will however allow the curious to go themselves to the sources, to

verify, to see with their own eyes, and, if they find cause (_absit

omen!_), to disagree. In those notes most of the space has been filled

by references to originals; little has been left for works containing

criticisms and appreciations: the want of room is the only reason, not

the want of reverence and sympathy for predecessors.

To be easily understood one must be clear, and, to be clear,

qualifications and attenuations must be reduced to a minimum. The reader

will surely understand that many more "perhapses" and "abouts" were in

the mind of the author than will be found in print; he will make, in his

benevolence, due allowance for the roughness of that instrument, speech,

applied to events, ideas, theories, things of beauty, as difficult to

measure with rule as "the myst on Malverne hulles." He will know that

when Saxons are described as having a sad, solemn genius, and not

numbering among their pre-eminent qualities the gift of repartee, it

does not mean that for six centuries they all of them sat and wept

without intermission, and that when asked a question they never knew

what to answer. All men are men, and have human qualities more or less

developed in their minds; nothing more is implied in those passages but

that one quality was _more_ developed in one particular race of men and

that in another.

When a book is just finished, there is always for the author a most

doleful hour, when, retracing his steps, he thinks of what he has

attempted, the difficulties of the task, the unlikeliness that he has

overcome them. Misprints taking wrong numbers by the hand, black and

thorny creatures, dance their wild dance round him. He is awe-stricken,

and shudders; he wonders at the boldness of his undertaking;

"Qu'allait-il faire dans cette galere?" The immensity of the task, the

insufficience of the means stand in striking contrast. He had started

singing on his journey; now he looks for excuses to justify his having

ever begun it. Usually, it must be confessed, he finds some, prints them

or not, and recovers his spirits. I have published other works; I think

I did not print the excuses I found to explain the whys and the

wherefores; they were the same in all cases: roadway stragglers, Piers

Plowman, Count Cominges, Tudor novelists, were in a large measure

left-off subjects. No books had been dedicated to them; the attempt,

therefore, could not be considered as an undue intrusion. But in the

present case, what can be said, what excuse can be found, when so many

have written, and so well too?

The author of this book once had a drive in London; when it was

finished, he offered the cabman his fare. Cabman glanced at it; it did

not look much in his large, hollow hand; he said: "I want sixpence

more." Author said: "Why? It is the proper fare; I know the distance

very well; give me a reason." Cabman mused for a second, and said: "I

should like it so!"

I might perhaps allege a variety of reasons, but the true one is the

same as the cabman's. I did this because I could not help it; I loved it

so.

J.

_All Souls Day, 1894._

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Preface 1

BOOK I.

_THE ORIGINS._

CHAPTER I.

BRITANNIA.

I. Fusion of Races in France and in England.--First

inhabitants--Celtic realms--The Celts in Britain--Similitude with

the Celts of Gaul--Their religion--Their quick minds--Their gift

of speech 3

II. Celtic Literature.--Irish stories--Wealth of that

literature--Its characteristics--The dramatic

gift--Inventiveness--Heroic deeds--Familiar dialogues--Love

and woman--Welsh tales 9

III. Roman Conquest.--Duration and results--First coming

of the Germanic invader 18

CHAPTER II.

THE GERMANIC INVASION.

The mother country of the Germanic invader--Tacitus--Germans

and Scandinavians--The great invasions--Character of the Teutonic

nations--Germanic kingdoms established in formerly Roman provinces.

Jutes, Frisians, Angles, and Saxons--British resistance and

defeat--Problem of the Celtic survival--Results of the Germanic

invasions in England and France 21

CHAPTER III.

THE NATIONAL POETRY OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS.

I. The Poetry of the North.--The Germanic period of

English literature--Its characteristics--Anglo-Saxon poetry

stands apart and does not submit to Celtic influence--Comparison

with Scandinavian literature--The Eddas and Sagas; the "Corpus

Poeticum Boreale"--The heroes; their tragical adventures--Their

temper and sorrows 36

II. Anglo-Saxon Poems.--War-songs--Epic tales--Waldhere,

Beowulf--Analysis of "Beowulf"--The ideal of happiness in

"Beowulf"--Landscapes--Sad meditations--The idea of

death--Northern snows 45

CHAPTER IV.

CHRISTIAN LITERATURE AND PROSE LITERATURE OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS.

I. Conversion.--Arrival of Augustine--The new

teaching--The imperial idea and the Christian idea--Beginnings

of the new faith--Heathen survivals--Convents and

schools--Religious kings and princes--Proselytism, St. Boniface 60

II. Latin Culture.--Manuscripts--Alcuin, St. Boniface,

Aldhelm, AEddi, Bede--Life and writings of Bede--His

"Ecclesiastical History"--His sympathy for the national

literature 65

III. Christian Poems.--The genius of the race remains

nearly unchanged--Heroical adventures of the saints--Paraphrase

of the Bible--Caedmon--Cynewulf--His sorrows and despair--"Dream

of the Rood"--"Andreas"--Lugubrious sights--The idea of

death--Dialogues--Various poems--The "Physiologus"--"Phoenix" 68

IV. Prose--Alfred the Great.--Laws and charters--Alfred

and the Danish invasions--The fight for civilisation--Translation

of works by St. Gregory, Orosius (travels of Ohthere), Boethius

(story of Orpheus)--Impulsion given to

prose--Werferth--Anglo-Saxon Chronicles--Character of Alfred. 78

V. St. Dunstan--Sermons.--St. Dunstan (tenth century)

resumes the work of Alfred--Translation of pious

works--Collections of sermons--AElfric, Wulfstan, "Blickling"

homilies--Attempt to reach literary dignity.

End of the Anglo-Saxon period 88

BOOK II.

_THE FRENCH INVASION._

CHAPTER I.

BATTLE.

I. The Invaders of the Year 1066.--England between

two civilisations--The North and South--The Scandinavians at

Stamford-bridge.

The Normans of France--The army of William is a French

army--Character of William--The battle--Occupation of

the country 97

II. England bound to Southern Civilisations.--Policy

of William--Survey of his new domains--Unification--The

successors of William--Their practical mind and their taste

for adventures--Taste for art--French families settled in

England--Continental possessions of English kings--French

ideal--Unification of origins--Help from chroniclers and

poets--The Trojan ancestor 104

CHAPTER II.

LITERATURE IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE UNDER THE NORMAN

AND ANGEVIN KINGS.

I. Diffusion of the French Language.--The French

language superimposed on the English one--Its progress; even

among "lowe men"--Authors of English blood write their works

in French 116

II. The French Literature of the Normans and

Angevins.--It is animated by their own practical and

adventurous mind--Practical works: chronicles, scientific

and pious treatises 120

III. Epic Romances.--The Song of Roland and the

Charlemagne cycle--Comparison with "Beowulf"--The matter

of Rome--How antiquity is _translated_--Wonders--The

matter of Britain--Love--Geoffrey of Monmouth--Tristan and

Iseult--Lancelot and Guinevere--Woman--Love as a passion

and love as a ceremonial 125

IV. Lays and Chansons.--Shorter stories--Lays of

Marie de France--Chansons of France--Songs in French

composed in England 141

V. Satirical and Ironical Works.--Such works

introduced in England--The pilgrimage of Charlemagne--The

"Roman de Renart," a universal comedy--Fabliaux--Their

migrations--Their aim--Their influence in England 146

CHAPTER III.

LATIN.

I. The Ties with Rome.--William I., Henry II.,

John--Church lands--The "exempt" abbeys--Coming of the

friars--The clergy in Parliament--Part played by prelates

in the State--Warrior prelates, administrators, scavants, saints 157

II. Spreading of Knowledge.--Latin education--Schools

and libraries--Book collectors: Richard of Bury--Paris, chief

town for Latin studies--The Paris University; its origins,

teaching, and organisation--English students at Paris--Oxford

and Cambridge--Studies, battles, feasts--Colleges, chests,

libraries 166

III. Latin Poets.--Joseph of Exeter and the Trojan

war--Epigrammatists, satirists, fabulists, &c.--Nigel Wireker

and the ass whose tail was too short--Theories: Geoffrey of

Vinesauf and his New Art of Poetry 176

IV. Latin Prosators--Tales and Exempla.--Geoffrey of

Monmouth--Moralised tales--"Gesta Romanorum"--John of

Bromyard--"Risque" tales, fables in prose, miracles of the

Virgin, romantic tales--A Latin sketch of the "Merchant of

Venice"--John of Salisbury; Walter Map--Their pictures of

contemporary manners 181

V. Theologians, Jurists, Scientists, Historians.--The

"Doctors"; Scot, Bacon, Ockham, Bradwardine, &c.--Gaddesden

the physician--Bartholomew the encyclopaedist--Roman law and

English law--Vacarius, Glanville, Bracton, &c.

History--Composition of chronicles in monasteries--Impartiality

of chroniclers--Their idea of historical art--Henry of

Huntingdon, William of Malmesbury, Matthew Paris--Observation

of manners, preservation of characteristic anecdotes, attempt

to paint with colours--Higden, Walsingham and others 193

CHAPTER IV.

LITERATURE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

I. Pious Literature.--A period of silence--First works

(pious ones) copied, translated or composed in English after the

Conquest--Sermons--Lives of saints--Treatises of various

sort--"Ancren Riwle"--Translation of French treatises--Life and

works of Rolle of Hampole 204

II. Worldly Literature.--Adaptation and imitation of

French writings--The "Brut" of Layamon--Translation of romances

of chivalry--Romances dedicated to heroes of English

origin--Satirical fabliaux--Renard in English--Lays and

tales--Songs--Comparison with French chansons 219

BOOK III.

_ENGLAND TO THE ENGLISH._

CHAPTER I.

THE NEW NATION.

I. Fusion of Races and Languages.--Abolition of the

presentment of Englishery, 1340--Survival of the French

language in the fourteenth century--The decline--Part played

by "lowe men" in the formation of the English language--The

new vocabulary--The new prosody--The new grammar--The

definitive language of England an outcome of a transaction

between the Anglo-Saxon and the French language 235

II. Political Formation.--The nation coalesces--The

ties with France and Rome are loosening or breaking--A new

source of power, Westminster--Formation, importance,

privileges of Parliament under the Plantagenets--Spirit of

the Commons--Their Norman bargains--Comparison with France 248

III. Maritime Power; Wealth and Arts.--Importance

of the English trade in the fourteenth century--The great

traders--Their influence on State affairs--The English,

"rois de la mer"--Taste for travels and adventures.

Arts--Gold, silver and ivory--Miniatures and

enamels--Architecture--Paintings and tapestries--Comparative

comfort of houses--The hall and table--Dresses--The nude--The

cult for beauty 255

CHAPTER II.

CHAUCER.

The Poet of the new nation 267

I. Youth of Chaucer.--His London life--London in

the fourteenth century--Chaucer as a page--His French

campaigns--Valettus camerae Regis--Esquire--Married

life--Poetry a la mode--Machault, Deguileville, Froissart,

Des Champs, &c.--Chaucer's love ditties--The "Roman de la

Rose"--"Book of the Duchesse" 268

II. Period of the Missions to France and Italy.--The

functions of an ambassador and messenger--Various

missions--Chaucer in Italy, 1372-3, 1378-9--Influence of

Italian art and literature on Chaucer--London again; the

Custom House; Aldgate--Works of this period--Latin and

Italian deal--The gods of Olympus, the nude, the

classics--Imitation of Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio--"Hous

of Fame" 282

III. Troilus and Criseyde.--Plot derived from

Boccaccio but transformed--A novel and a drama--Life and

variety--Heroism and vulgarity--Troilus, Pandarus,

Cressida--Scenes of comedy--Attempt at psychological

analysis--_Nuances_ in Cressida's feelings--Her

inconstancy--Melancholy and grave ending--Difference

with Boccaccio and Pierre de Beauveau 298

IV. English Period.--Chaucer a member of

Parliament--Clerk of the king's works--"Canterbury

Tales"--The meeting at the "Tabard"--Gift of observation--Real

life, details--Difference with Froissart--Humour,

sympathy--Part allotted to "lowe men."

The collections of tales--The "Decameron"--The aim of

Chaucer and of Boccaccio--Chaucer's variety; speakers and

listeners--Dialogues--Principal tales--Facetious and coarse

ones--Plain ones--Fairy tales--Common life--Heroic

deeds--Grave examples--Sermon.

The care for truth--Good sense of Chaucer--His language

and versification--Chaucer and the Anglo-Saxons--Chaucer and

the French 312

V. Last Years.--Chaucer, King of Letters--His retreat

in St. Mary's, Westminster--His death--His fame 341

CHAPTER III.

THE GROUP OF POETS.

Coppice and forest trees 344

I. Metrical Romances.--Jugglers and minstrels--Their

life, deeds, and privileges--Decay of the profession towards

the time of the Renaissance--Romances of the "Sir Thopas"

type--Monotony; inane wonders--Better examples: "Morte

Arthure," "William of Palerne," "Gawayne and the Green

Knight"--Merits of "Gawayne"--From (probably) the same author,

"Pearl," on the death of a young maid--Vision of the Celestial

City 344

II. Amorous Ballads and Popular Poetry.--Poetry at

Court--The Black Prince and the great--Professional poets

come to the help of the great--The _Pui_ of London; its

competitions, music and songs--Satirical songs on women,

friars, fops, &c. 352

III. Patriotic Poetry.--Robin Hood--"When Adam

delved"--Claims of peasants--Answers to the peasants'

claims--National glories--Adam Davy--Crecy, Poictiers,

Neville's Cross--Laurence Minot--Recurring sadness--French

answers--Scottish answers--Barbour's "Bruce"--Style of

Barbour--Barbour and Scott 359

IV. John Gower.--His origin, family, turn of mind--He

belongs to Angevin England--He is tri-lingual--Life and

principal works--French ballads--Latin poem on the rising of

the peasants, 1381, and on the vices of society--Poem in

English, "Confessio Amantis"--Style of Gower--His tales and

_exempla_--His fame 364

CHAPTER IV.

WILLIAM LANGLAND AND HIS VISIONS.

Langland first poet of the period after Chaucer 373

I. Life and Works.--A general view--Birth, education,

natural disposition--Life at Malvern--His unsettled state of

mind--Curiosities and failures--Life in

London--Chantries--Disease of the will--Religious

doubts--The faith of the simple--His book a place of refuge

for him 374

II. Analysis of the Visions.--The pilgrims of

Langland and the pilgrims of Chaucer--The road to Canterbury

and the way to Truth--Lady Meed; her betrothal, her

trial--Speech of Reason--The hero of the work, Piers the

Plowman--A declaration of duties--Sermons--The siege of

hell--The end of life 382

III. Political Society and Religious

Society.--Comparison with Chaucer--Langland's

crowds--Langland an insular and a parliamentarian--The

"Visions" and the "Rolls of Parliament" agree on nearly

all points--Langland at one with the Commons--Organisation

of the State--Reforms--Relations with France, with the

Pope--Religious buyers and sellers--The ideal of Langland 388

IV. Art and Aim.--Duplication of his personality--"Nuit

de Decembre"--Sincerity--Incoherences--Scene-shifting--Joys

forbidden and allowed--A motto for Langland--His language,

vocabulary, dialect, versification--Popularity of the

work--Fourteenth and fifteenth centuries--Time of the Reformation 394

CHAPTER V.

PROSE IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY.

The "father of English prose" 403

I. Translators and Adaptators.--Slow growth of the

art of prose--Comparison with France; historians and

novelists--Survival of Latin prose--Walsingham and other

chroniclers--Their style and eloquence--Translators--Trevisa--The

translation of the Travels of "Mandeville"--The "Mandeville"

problem--Jean de Bourgogne and his journey through books--Immense

success of the Travels--Style of the English

translation--Chaucer's prose 404

II. Oratorical Art.--Civil eloquence--Harangues and

speeches--John Ball--Parliamentary eloquence--A parliamentary

session under the Plantagenet kings--Proclamation--Opening

speech--Flowery speeches and business speeches--Debates--Answers

of the Commons--Their Speaker--Government orators, Knyvet,

Wykeham, &c.--Opposition orators, Peter de la Mare--Bargains

and remonstrances--Attitude and power of the Commons--Use of

the French language--Speeches in English 412

III. Wyclif. His Life.--His parentage--Studies at

Oxford--His character--Functions and dignities--First

difficulties with the religious authority--Scene in St.

Paul's--Papal bulls--Scene at Lambeth--The "simple

priests"--Attacks against dogmas--Life at Lutterworth--Death 422

IV. Latin Works of Wyclif.--His Latin--His theory

of the _Dominium_--His starting-point: the theory of

Fitzralph--Extreme, though logical, consequence of the

doctrine: communism--Qualifications and attenuations--Tendency

towards Royal supremacy 427

V. English Works of Wyclif.--He wants to be understood

by all--He translates the Bible--Popularity of the

translation--Sermons and treatises--His style--Humour,

eloquence, plain dealing--Paradoxes and utopies--Lollards--His

descendants in Bohemia and elsewhere 432

CHAPTER VI.

THE THEATRE.

I. Origins. Civil Sources.--Mimes and

histrions--Amusements and sights provided by histrions--How

they raise a laugh--Facetious tales told with appropriate

gestures--Dialogues and repartees--Parodies and

caricatures--Early interludes--Licence of amusers--Bacchanals

in churches and cemeteries--Holy things derided--Feasts

of various sorts--Processions and pageants--"Tableaux

Vivants"--Compliments and dialogues--Feasts at Court--"Masks" 439

II. Religious Sources.--Mass--Dialogues introduced

in the Christmas service--The Christmas cycle (Old

Testament)--The Easter cycle (New Testament).

The religious drama in England--Life of St. Catherine

(twelfth century)--Popularity of Mysteries in the fourteenth

century--Treatises concerning those representations--Testimony

of Chaucer William of Wadington--Collection of Mysteries in

English.

Performances--Players, scaffolds or pageants, dresses, boxes,

scenery, machinery--Miniature by Jean Fouquet--Incoherences and

anachronisms 456

III. Literary and Historical value of Mysteries.--The

ancestors' feelings and tastes--Sin and redemption--Caricature

of kings--Their "boast"--Their use of the French tongue--They

have to maintain silence--Popular scenes--Noah and his wife--The

poor workman and the taxes--A comic pastoral--The Christmas

shepherds--Mak and the stolen sheep 476

IV. Decay of the Mediaeval Stage.--Moralities--Personified

abstractions--The end of Mysteries--They continue being performed

in the time of Shakespeare 489

CHAPTER VII.

THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES.

I. Decline.--Chaucer's successors--The decay of art

is obvious even to them--The society for which they write is

undergoing a transformation--Lydgate and Hoccleve 495

II. Scotsmen.--They imitate Chaucer but with more

freedom--James I.--Blind Harry--Henryson--The town mouse

and the country mouse--Dunbar--Gavin Douglas--Popular

ballads--Poetry in the flamboyant style 503

III. Material welfare; Prose.--Development of the

lower and middle class--Results of the wars--Trade, navy,

savings.

Books of courtesy--Familiar letters; Paston Letters--Guides

for the traveller and trader--Fortescue and his praise of

English institutions--Pecock and his defence of the

clergy--His style and humour--Compilers, chroniclers,

prosators of various sort--Malory, Caxton, Juliana Berners,

Capgrave, &c. 513

IV. The Dawn of the Renaissance.--The literary

movement in Italy--Greek studies--Relations with Eastern

men of letters--Turkish wars and Greek exiles--Taking of

Constantinople by Mahomet II.--Consequences felt in Italy,

France, and England 523

Index 527

BOOK I.

_THE ORIGINS._

CHAPTER I.

_BRITANNIA._

I.

The people that now occupies England was formed, like the French people,

by the fusion of several superimposed races. In both countries the same

races met and mingled at about the same period, but in different

proportions and under dissimilar social conditions. Hence the striking

resemblances and sharply defined contrasts that exist in the genius of

the two nations. Hence also the contradictory sentiments which mutually

animated them from century to century, those combinations and

recurrences of esteem that rose to admiration, and jealousy that swelled

to hate. Hence, again, the unparalleled degree of interest they offer,

one for the other. The two people are so dissimilar that in borrowing

from each other they run no risk of losing their national

characteristics and becoming another's image; and yet, so much alike are

they, it is impossible that what they borrowed should remain barren and

unproductive. These loans act like leaven: the products of English

thought during the Augustan age of British literature were mixed with

French leaven, and the products of French thought during the Victor Hugo

period were penetrated with English yeast.

Ancient writers have left us little information concerning the remotest

period and the oldest inhabitants of the British archipelago; works

which would be invaluable to us exist only in meagre fragments.

Important gaps have fortunately been filled, owing to modern Science and

to her manifold researches. She has inherited the wand of the departed

wizards, and has touched with her talisman the gate of sepulchres; the

tombs have opened and the dead have spoken. What countries did thy

war-ship visit? she inquired of the Scandinavian viking. And in answer

the dead man, asleep for centuries among the rocks of the Isle of Skye,

showed golden coins of the caliphs in his skeleton hand. These coins are

not a figure of speech; they are real, and may be seen at the Edinburgh

Museum. The wand has touched old undeciphered manuscripts, and broken

the charm that kept them dumb. From them rose songs, music,

love-ditties, and war-cries: phrases so full of life that the living

hearts of to-day have been stirred by them; words with so much colour in

them that the landscape familiar to the eyes of the Celts and Germans

has reappeared before us.

Much remains undiscovered, and the dead hold secrets they may yet

reveal. In the unexplored tombs of the Nile valley will be found one

day, among the papyri stripped from Ptolemaic mummies, the account of a

journey made to the British Isles about 330 B.C., by a Greek of

Marseilles named Pytheas, a contemporary of Aristotle and Alexander the

Great, of which a few sentences only have been preserved.[1] But even

now the darkness which enveloped the origin has been partly cleared

away.

To the primitive population, the least known of all, that reared the

stones of Carnac in France, and in England the gigantic circles of

Stonehenge and Avebury, succeeded in both countries, many centuries

before Christ, the Celtic race.

The Celts ([Greek: keltai]) were thus called by the Greeks from the name

of one of their principal tribes, in the same way as the French,

English, Scottish, and German nations derive theirs from that of one of

their principal tribes. They occupied, in the third century before our

era, the greater part of Central Europe, of the France of to-day, of

Spain, and of the British Isles. They were neighbours of the Greeks and

Latins; the centre of their possessions was in Bavaria. From there, and

not from Gaul, set out the expeditions by which Rome was taken, Delphi

plundered, and a Phrygian province rebaptized Galatia. Celtic cemeteries

abound throughout that region; the most remarkable of them was

discovered, not in France, but at Hallstadt, near Salzburg, in

Austria.[2]

The language of the Celts was much nearer the Latin tongue than the

Germanic idioms; it comprised several dialects, and amongst them the

Gaulish, long spoken in Gaul, the Gaelic, the Welsh, and the Irish,

still used in Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. The most important of the

Celtic tribes, settled in the main island beyond the Channel, gave

itself the name of Britons. Hence the name of Britain borne by the

country, and indirectly that also of Great Britain, now the official

appellation of England. The Britons appear to have emigrated from Gaul

and established themselves among the other Celtic tribes already settled

in the island, about the third century before Christ.

During several hundred years, from the time of Pytheas to that of the

Roman conquerors, the Mediterranean world remained ignorant of what took

place among insular Britons, and we are scarcely better informed than

they were. The centre of human civilisation had been moved from country

to country round the great inland sea, having now reached Rome, without

anything being known save that north of Gaul existed a vast country,

surrounded by water, rich in tin mines, covered by forests, prairies,

and morasses, from which dense mists arose.

Three centuries elapse; the Romans are settled in Gaul. Caesar, at the

head of his legions, has avenged the city for the insults of the Celtic

invaders, but the strife still continues; Vercingetorix has not yet

appeared. Actuated by that sense of kinship so deeply rooted in the

Celts, the effects of which are still to be seen from one shore of the

Atlantic to the other, the Britons had joined forces with their

compatriots of the Continent against the Roman. Caesar resolved to lead

his troops to the other side of the Channel, but he knew nothing of the

country, and wished first to obtain information. He questioned the

traders; they told him little, being, as they said, acquainted only with

the coasts, and that slightly. Caesar embarked in the night of August

24th-25th, the year 55 before our era; it took him somewhat more time to

cross the strait than is now needed to go from Paris to London. His

expedition was a real voyage of discovery; and he was careful, during

his two sojourns in the island, to examine as many people as possible,

and note all he could observe concerning the customs of the natives. The

picture he draws of the former inhabitants of England strikes us to-day

as very strange. "The greater part of the people of the interior," he

writes, "do not sow; they live on milk and flesh, and clothe themselves

in skins. All Britons stain themselves dark blue with woad, which gives

them a terrible aspect in battle. They wear their hair long, and shave

all their body except their hair and moustaches."

Did we forget the original is in Latin, we might think the passage was

extracted from the travels of Captain Cook; and this is so true that, in

the account of his first journey around the world, the great navigator,

on arriving at the island of Savu, notices the similitude himself.

With the exception of a few details, the Celtic tribes of future England

were similar to those of future France.[3] Brave like them, with an

undisciplined impetuosity that often brought them to grief (the

impetuosity of Poictiers and Nicopolis), curious, quick-tempered, prompt

to quarrel, they fought after the same fashion as the Gauls, with the

same arms; and in the Witham and Thames have been found bronze shields

similar in shape and carving to those graven on the triumphal arch at

Orange, the image of which has now recalled for eighteen centuries Roman

triumph and Celtic defeat. Horace's saying concerning the Gaulish

ancestors applies equally well to Britons: never "feared they

funerals."[4] The grave was for them without terrors; their faith in the

immortality of the soul absolute; death for them was not the goal, but

the link between two existences; the new life was as complete and

desirable as the old, and bore no likeness to that subterranean

existence, believed in by the ancients, partly localised in the

sepulchre, with nothing sweeter in it than those sad things, rest and

oblivion. According to Celtic belief, the dead lived again under the

light of heaven; they did not descend, as they did with the Latins, to

the land of shades. No Briton, Gaul, or Irish could have understood the

melancholy words of Achilles: "Seek not, glorious Ulysses, to comfort me

for death; rather would I till the ground for wages on some poor man's

small estate than reign over all the dead."[5] The race was an

optimistic one. It made the best of life, and even of death.

These beliefs were carefully fostered by the druids, priests and

philosophers, whose part has been the same in Gaul, Ireland, and

Britain. Their teaching was a cause of surprise and admiration to the

Latins. "And you, druids," exclaims Lucan, "dwelling afar under the

broad trees of the sacred groves, according to you, the departed visit

not the silent Erebus, nor the dark realm of pallid Pluto; the same

spirit animates a body in a different world. Death, if what you say is

true, is but the middle of a long life. Happy the error of those that

live under Arcturus; the worst of fears is to them unknown--the fear of

death!"[6]

The inhabitants of Britain possessed, again in common with those of

Gaul, a singular aptitude to understand and learn quickly. A short time

after the Roman Conquest it becomes hard to distinguish Celtic from

Roman workmanship among the objects discovered in tombs. Caesar is

astonished to see how his adversaries improve under his eyes. They were

simple enough at first; now they understand and foresee, and baffle his

military stratagems. To this intelligence and curiosity is due, with all

its advantages and drawbacks, the faculty of assimilation possessed by

this race, and manifested to the same extent by no other in Europe.

The Latin authors also admired another characteristic gift in the men of

this race: a readiness of speech, an eloquence, a promptness of repartee

that distinguished them from their Germanic neighbours. The people of

Gaul, said Cato, have two passions: to fight well and talk cleverly

(_argute loqui_).[7] This is memorable evidence, since it reveals to us

a quality of a literary order: we can easily verify its truth, for we

know now in what kind of compositions, and with what talent the men of

Celtic blood exercised their gift of speech.

II.

That the Celtic tribes on both sides of the Channel closely resembled

each other in manners, tastes, language, and turn of mind cannot be

doubted. "Their language differs little," says Tacitus; "their buildings

are almost similar,"[8] says Caesar. The similitude of their literary

genius is equally certain, for Cato's saying relates to continental

Celts and can be checked by means of Irish poems and tales. Welsh

stories of a later date afford us evidence fully as conclusive. If we

change the epoch, the result will be the same; the main elements of the

Celtic genius have undergone no modification; Armoricans, Britons,

Welsh, Irish, and Scotch, are all inexhaustible tale-tellers, skilful in

dialogue, prompt at repartee, and never to be taken unawares. Gerald de

Barry, the Welshman, gives us a description of his countrymen in the

twelfth century, which seems a paraphrase of what Cato had said of the

Gaulish Celts fourteen hundred years before.[9]

Ireland has preserved for us the most ancient monuments of Celtic

thought. Nothing has reached us of those "quantities of verses" that,

according to Caesar, the druids taught their pupils in Gaul, with the

command that they should never be written.[10] Only too well was the

injunction obeyed. Nothing, again, has been transmitted to us of the

improvisations of the Gallic or British bards ([Greek: bardoi]), whose

fame was known to, and mentioned by, the ancients. In Ireland, however,

Celtic literature had a longer period of development. The country was

not affected by the Roman Conquest; the barbarian invasions did not

bring about the total ruin they caused in England and on the Continent.

The clerks of Ireland in the seventh and eighth centuries committed to

writing the ancient epic tales of their land. Notwithstanding the advent

of Christianity, the pagan origins constantly reappear in these

narratives, and we are thus taken back to the epoch when they were

primarily composed, and even to the time when the events related are

supposed to have occurred. That time is precisely the epoch of Caesar and

of the Christian era. Important works have, in our day, thrown a light

on this literature[11]; but all is not yet accomplished, and it has been

computed that the entire publication of the ancient Irish manuscripts

would fill about a thousand octavo volumes. It cannot be said that the

people who produced these works were men of scanty speech; and here

again we recognise the immoderate love of tales and the insatiable

curiosity that Caesar had noticed in the Celts of the Continent.[12]

Most of those Irish stories are part of the epic cycle of Conchobar and

Cuchulainn, and concern the wars of Ulster and Connaught. They are in

prose, interspersed with verse. Long before being written, they existed

in the shape of well-established texts, repeated word for word by men

whose avocation it was to know and remember, and who spent their lives

in exercising their memory. The corporation of the _File_, or seers, was

divided into ten classes, from the _Oblar_, who knew only seven stories,

to the _Ollam_, who knew three hundred and fifty.[13] Unlike the bards,

the File never invented, they remembered; they were obliged to know, not

any stories whatsoever, but certain particular tales; lists of them have

been found, and not a few of the stories entered in these catalogues

have come down to us.

If we look through the collections that have been made of them, we can

see that the Celtic authors of that period are already remarkable for

qualities that have since shone with extreme brilliancy among various

nations belonging to the same race: the sense of form and beauty, the

dramatic gift, fertility of invention.[14] This is all the more

noticeable as the epoch was a barbarous one, and a multitude of passages

recall the wild savageness of the people. We find in these legends as

many scenes of slaughter and ferocious deeds as in the oldest Germanic

poems: _Provincia ferox_, said Tacitus of Britain. The time is still

distant when woman shall become a deity; the murder of a man is

compensated by twenty-one head of cattle, and the murder of a woman by

three head only.[15] The warlike valour of the heroes is carried as far

as human nature and imagination allow; not even Roland or Ragnar Lodbrok

die more heroically than Cuchulainn, who, mortally wounded, dies

standing:

"He fixed his eye on this hostile group. Then he leaned himself against

the high stone in the plain, and, by means of his belt, he fastened his

body to the high stone. Neither sitting nor lying would he die; but he

would die standing. Then his enemies gathered round him. They remained

about him, not daring to approach; he seemed to be still alive."[16]

At the same time, things of beauty have their place in these tales.

There are birds and flowers; women are described with loving admiration;

their cheeks are purple "as the fox-glove," their locks wave in the

light.

Above all, such a dramatic gift is displayed as to stand unparalleled in

any European literature at its dawn.[17] Celtic poets excel in the art

of giving a lifelike representation of deeds and events, of graduating

their effects, and making their characters talk; they are matchless for

speeches and quick repartees. Compositions have come down to us that are

all cut out into dialogues, so that the narrative becomes a drama. In

such tales as the "Murder of the Sons of Usnech," or "Cuchulainn's

Sickness," in which love finds a place, these remarkable traits are to

be seen at their best. The story of "Mac Datho's Pig" is as powerfully

dramatic and savage as the most cruel Germanic or Scandinavian songs;

but it is at the same time infinitely more varied in tone and artistic

in shape. Pictures of everyday life, familiar fireside discussions

abound, together with the scenes of blood loved by all nations in the

season of their early manhood.

"There was," we read, "a famous king of Leinster, called Mac Datho. This

king owned a dog, Ailbe by name, who defended the whole province and

filled Erin with his fame."[18] Ailill, king of Connaught, and

Conchobar, king of Ulster, claim the dog; and Mac Datho, much

perplexed, consults his wife, who suggests that he should promise Ailbe

to both. On the appointed day, the warriors of the two countries come to

fetch the dog of renown, and a grand banquet is served them by Mac

Datho, the principal dish of which is a rare kind of pig--"three hundred

cows had fed him for seven years." Scarcely are the guests seated, when

the dialogues begin:

"That pig looks good," says Conchobar.

"Truly, yes," replies Ailill; "but, Conchobar, how shall he be carved?"

"What more simple in this hall, where sit the glorious heroes of Erin?"

cried, from his couch, Bricriu, son of Carbad. "To each his share,

according to his fights and deeds. But ere the shares are distributed,

more than one rap on the nose will have been given and received."

"So be it," said Ailill.

"'Tis fair," said Conchobar. "We have with us the warriors who defended

our frontiers."

Then each one rises in turn and claims the honour of carving: I did

this.--I did still more.--I slew thy father.--I slew thy eldest son.--I

gave thee that wound that still aches.

The warrior Cet had just told his awful exploits when Conall of Ulster

rises against him and says:

"Since the day I first bore a spear, not often have I lacked the head of

a man of Connaught to pillow mine upon. Not a single day or night has

passed in which I slew not an enemy."

"I confess it," said Cet, "thou art a greater warrior than I; but were

Anluan in this castle, he at least could compete with thee; 'tis a pity

he is not present."

"He is here!" cried Conall, and drawing from his belt Anluan's head, he

flung it on the table.

In the "Murder of the Sons of Usnech,"[19] woman plays the principal

part. The mainspring of the story is love, and by it the heroes are led

to death, a thing not to be found elsewhere in the European literature

of the period. Still, those same heroes are not slight, fragile

dreamers; if we set aside their love, and only consider their ferocity,

they are worthy of the Walhalla of Woden. By the following example we

may see how the insular Celts could love and die.

The child of Fedelmid's wife utters a cry in its mother's womb. They

question Cathba the chief druid, who answers: "That which has clamoured

within thee is a fair-haired daughter, with fair locks, a majestic

glance, blue eyes, and cheeks purple as the fox-glove"; and he foretells

the woes she will cause among men. This girl is Derdriu; she is brought

up secretly and apart, in order to evade the prediction. One day, "she

beheld a raven drink blood on the snow." She said to Leborcham:

"The only man I could love would be one who united those three colours:

hair as black as the raven, cheeks red as blood, body as white as snow."

"Thou art lucky," answered Leborcham, "the man thou desirest is not far

to seek, he is near thee, in this very castle; it is Noise, son of

Usnech."

"I shall not be happy," returned Derdriu, "until I have seen him."

Noise justifies the young girl's expectations; he and his two brothers

are incomparably valiant in war, and so swift are they that they outrun

wild animals in the chase. Their songs are delightfully sweet. Noise is

aware of the druid's prophecy, and at first spurns Derdriu, but she

conquers him by force. They love each other. Pursued by their enemies

the three brothers and Derdriu emigrate to Scotland, and take refuge

with the king of Albion. One day the king's steward "sees Noise and his

wife sleeping side by side. He went at once and awoke the king.

"'Till now,' he said, 'never had we found a woman worthy of thee; but

the one who lies in the arms of Noise is the one for thee, king of the

West! Cause Noise to be put to death, and marry his wife.'

"'No,' answered the king; 'but bid her come to me daily in secret.'

"The steward obeyed the king's commands, but in vain; what he told

Derdriu by day she repeated to her husband the following night."

The sons of Usnech perish in an ambush. Conchobar seizes on Derdriu, but

she continues to love the dead. "Derdriu passed a year with Conchobar;

during that time never was a smile seen on her lips; she ate not, slept

not, raised not her head from off her knees. When the musicians and

jugglers tried to cheer her grief by their play, she told ..." she told

her sorrow, and all that had made the delight of her life "in a time

that was no more."

"I sleep not, I dye no more my nails with purple; lifeless is my soul,

for the sons of Usnech will return no more. I sleep not half the night

on my couch. My spirit travels around the multitudes. But I eat not,

neither do I smile."

Conchobar out of revenge delivers her over for a year to the man she

most hates, the murderer of Noise, who bears her off on a chariot; and

Conchobar, watching this revolting sight, mocks her misery. She remains

silent. "There in front of her rose a huge rock, she threw herself

against it, her head struck and was shattered, and so she died."

An inexhaustible fertility of invention was displayed by the Celtic

makers. They created the cycle of Conchobar, and afterwards that of

Ossian, to which Macpherson's "adaptations" gave such world-wide renown

that in our own century they directed Lamartine's early steps towards

the realms of poetry. Later still they created the cycle of Arthur, most

brilliant and varied of all, a perennial source of poetry, from whence

the great French poet of the twelfth century sought his inspiration, and

whence only yesterday the poet laureate of England found his. They

collect in Wales the marvellous tales of the "Mabinogion"[20]; in them

we find enchanters and fairies, women with golden hair, silken raiment,

and tender hearts. They hunt, and a white boar starts out of the bushes;

following him they arrive at a castle there, "where never had they seen

trace of a building before." Pryderi ventures to penetrate into the

precincts: "He entered and perceived neither man, nor beast; no boar, no

dogs, no house, no place of habitation. On the ground towards the middle

there was a fountain surrounded by marble, and on the rim of the

fountain, resting on a marble slab, was a golden cup, fastened by golden

chains tending upwards, the ends of which he could not see. He was

enraptured by the glitter of the gold, and the workmanship of the cup.

He drew near and grasped it. At the same instant his hands clove to the

cup, and his feet to the marble slab on which it rested. He lost his

voice, and was unable to utter a word." The castle fades away; the land

becomes a desert once more; the heroes are changed into mice; the whole

looks like a fragment drawn out of Ariosto, by Perrault, and told by him

in his own way to children.

No wonder if the descendants of these indefatigable inventors are men

with rich literatures, not meagre literatures of which it is possible to

write a history without omitting anything, but deep and inexhaustible

ones. The ends of their golden chains are not to be seen. And if a

copious mixture of Celtic blood flows, though in different proportions,

in the veins of the French and of the English, it will be no wonder if

they happen some day to produce the greater number of the plays that are

acted, and of the novels that are read, all over the civilised world.

III.

After a second journey, during which he passed the Thames, Caesar

departed with hostages, this time never to return. The real conquest

took place under the emperors, beginning from the reign of Claudius, and

for three centuries and a half Britain was occupied and ruled by the

Romans. They built a network of roads, of which the remains still

subsist; they marked the distances by milestones, sixty of which have

been found, and one, at Chesterholm, is still standing; they raised,

from one sea to the other, against the people of Scotland, two great

walls; one of them in stone, flanked by towers, and protected by moats

and earth-works.[21] Fortified after the Roman fashion, defended by

garrisons, the groups of British huts became cities; and villas, similar

to those the remains of which are met with under the ashes of Pompeii

and in the sands of Africa, rose in York, Bath, London, Lincoln,

Cirencester, Aldborough, Woodchester, Bignor, and in a multitude of

other places where they have since been found. Beneath the shade of the

druidical oaks, the Roman glazier blew his light variegated flasks; the

mosaic maker seated Orpheus on his panther, with his fingers on the

Thracian lyre. Altars were built to the Roman deities; later to the God

of Bethlehem, and one at least of the churches of that period still

subsists, St. Martin of Canterbury.[22] Statues were raised for the

emperors; coins were cast; weights were cut; ore was extracted from the

mines; the potter moulded his clay vases, and, pending the time when

they should be exhibited behind the glass panes of the British Museum,

the legionaries used them to hold the ashes of their dead.

However far he went, the Roman carried Rome with him; he required his

statues, his coloured pavements, his frescoes, his baths, all the

comforts and delights of the Latin cities. Theatres, temples, towers,

palaces rose in many of the towns of Great Britain, and some years ago a

bathing room was discovered at Bath[23] a hundred and eleven feet long.

Several centuries later Gerald de Barry passing through Caerleon noticed

with admiration "many remains of former grandeur, immense palaces ... a

gigantic tower, magnificent baths, and ruined temples."[24] The emperors

could well come to Britain; they found themselves at home. Claudius,

Vespasian, Titus, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius came there, either to win the

title of "the Britannic" or to enjoy the charms of peace. Severus died

at York in 211, and Caracalla there began his reign. Constantius Chlorus

came to live in this town, and died there; and the prince destined to

sanction the Romans' change of religion, Constantine the Great, was

proclaimed emperor in the same city. Celtic Britain, the England that

was to be, had become Roman and Christian, a country of land tillers who

more or less spoke Latin.[25]

But the time of transformation was drawing nigh, and an enemy was

already visible, against whom neither Hadrian's wall nor Antoninus'

ramparts could prevail; for he came not from the Scottish mountains,

but, as he himself said in his war-songs, "by the way of the whales." A

new race of men had appeared on the shores of the island. After relating

the campaigns of his father-in-law, Agricola, whose fleet had sailed

around Britain and touched at the Orkneys, the attention of Tacitus had

been drawn to Germany, a wild mysterious land. He had described it to

his countrymen; he had enumerated its principal tribes, and among many

others he had mentioned one which he calls _Angli_. He gives the name,

and says no more, little suspecting the part these men were to play in

history. The first act that was to make them famous throughout the world

was to overthrow the political order, and to sweep away the

civilisation, which the conquests of Agricola had established amongst

the Britons.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] On Pytheas, see Elton, "Origins of English History," London, 1890,

8vo (2nd ed.), pp. 12 and following. He visited the coasts of Spain,

Gaul, Britain, and returned by the Shetlands. The passages of his

journal preserved for us by the ancients are given on pp. 400 and 401.

[2] See, on this subject, A. Bertrand, "La Gaule avant les Gaulois,"

Paris, 1891, 8vo (2nd ed.), pp. 7 and 13; D'Arbois de Jubainville,

"Revue Historique," January-February, 1886.

[3] "Proximi Gallis, et similes sunt.... Sermo haud multum diversus: in

deposcendis periculis eadem audacia ... plus tamen ferociae Britanni

praeferunt, ut quos nondum longa pax emollierit ... manent quales Galli

fuerunt." Tacitus, "Agricola," xi. "AEdificia fere Gallicis consimilia,"

Caesar "De Bello Gallico," v. The south was occupied by Gauls who had

come from the Continent at a recent period. The Iceni were a Gallic

tribe; the Trinobantes were Gallo-Belgae.

[4]

Te non paventis funera Galliae

Duraque tellus audit Hiberiae.

("Ad Augustum," Odes, iv. 14.)

[5] "Odyssey," xi. l. 488 ff.

[6]

Et vos ... Druidae ...

... nemora alta remotis

Incolitis lucis, vobis auctoribus, umbrae

Non tacitas Erebi sedes, Ditisque profundi

Pallida regna petunt; regit idem spiritus artus

Orbe alio: longae (canitis si cognita) vitae

Mors media est. Certe populi quos despicit Arctos,

Felices errore suo, quos ille timorum

Maximus, haud urget leti metus.

("Pharsalia," book i.)

[7] "Pleraque Gallia duas res industriosissime persequitur, rem

militarem et argute loqui." "Origins," quoted by the grammarian

Charisius. In Cato's time (third-second centuries B.C.) the word Gallia

had not the restricted sense it had after Caesar, but designed the whole

of the Celtic countries of the Continent. The ingenuity of the Celts

manifested itself also in their laws: "From an intellectual point of

view, the laws of the Welsh are their greatest title to glory. The

eminent German jurist, F. Walter, points out that, in this respect, the

Welsh are far in advance of the other nations of the Middle Ages. They

give proof of a singular precision and subtlety of mind, and a great

aptitude for philosophic speculation." "Les Mabinogion," by Lot, Paris,

1889, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 7.

[8] See _supra_, p. 7, note.

[9] "De curia vero et familia viri, ut et circumstantibus risum moveant

sibique loquendo laudem comparent, facetiam in sermone plurimam

observant; dum vel sales, vel laedoria, nunc levi nunc mordaci, sub

aequivocationis vel amphibolae nebula, relatione diversa, transpositione

verborum et trajectione, subtiles et dicaces emittunt." And he cites

examples of their witticisms. "Descriptio Kambriae," chap. xiv., De

verborum facetia et urbanitate. "Opera," Brewer, 1861-91, 8 vols., vol.

vi., Rolls.

[10] He says, in reference to the pupils of the Druids, "De Bello

Gallico," book vi.: "Magnum ibi numerum versuum ediscere dicuntur,

itaque nonnulli annos vicenos in disciplina permanent; neque fas esse

existimant ea litteris mandare." One of the reasons of this interdiction

is to guard against the scholars ceasing to cultivate their memory, a

faculty considered by the Celts as of the highest importance.

[11] Those, among others, of MM. Whitley Stokes, Rhys, d'Arbois de

Jubainville, Lot, Windisch, Zimmer, Netlau, and Kuno-Meyer.

[12] "Est autem hoc Galliae consuetudinis; ut et viatores etiam invitos

consistere cogant: et quod quisque eorum de quaque re audierit aut

cognoverit quaerant, et mercatores in oppidis vulgus circumsistat: quibus

ex regionibus veniant, quasque res ibi cognoverint pronunciare cogant."

Book iv.

[13] To wit, two hundred and fifty long and a hundred short ones.

D'Arbois de Jubainville, "Introduction a l'etude de la Litterature

Celtique," Paris, 1883, 8vo, pp. 322-333.

[14] See, with reference to this, the "Navigation of Mael-Duin," a

christianised narrative, probably composed in the tenth century, under

the form in which we now possess it, but "the theme of which is

fundamentally pagan." Here are the titles of some of the chapters: "The

isle of enormous ants.--The island of large birds.--The monstrous

horse.--The demon's race.--The house of the salmon.--The marvellous

fruits.--Wonderful feats of the beast of the island.--The

horse-fights.--The fire beasts and the golden apples.--The castle

guarded by the cat.--The frightful mill.--The island of black weepers."

Translation by Lot in "L'Epopee Celtique," of D'Arbois de Jubainville,

Paris, 1892, 8vo, pp. 449 ff. See also Joyce, "Old Celtic Romances,"

1879; on the excellence of the memory of Irish narrators, even at the

present day, see Joyce's Introduction.

[15] D'Arbois de Jubainville, "L'Epopee Celtique," pp. xxviii and

following. "Celtic marriage is a sale.... Physical paternity has not the

same importance as with us"; people are not averse to having children

from their passing guest. "The question as to whether one is physically

their father offers a certain sentimental interest; but for a practical

man this question presents only a secondary interest, or even none at

all." _Ibid._, pp. xxvii-xxix.

[16] The Murder of Cuchulainn, "L'Epopee Celtique en Irlande," p. 346.

[17] The same quality is found in the literature of Brittany; the major

part of its monuments (of a more recent epoch) consists of religious

dramas or mysteries. These dramas, mostly unpublished, are exceedingly

numerous.

[18] "L'Epopee Celtique," pp. 66 and following.

[19] "L'Epopee Celtique en Irlande," pp. 217 and following.

[20] From "Mabinog" apprentice-bard. They are prose narratives, of

divers origin, written in Welsh. They "appear to have been written at

the end of the twelfth century"; the MS. of them we possess is of the

fourteenth; several of the legends in it contain pagan elements, and

carry us back "to the most distant past of the history of the Celts."

"Les Mabinogion," translated by Lot, with commentary, Paris, 1889, 2

vols. 8vo.

[21] In several places have been found the quarries from which the stone

of Hadrian's wall was taken, and inscriptions bearing the name of the

legion or of the officer charged with extracting it: "Petra Flavi[i]

Carantini," in the quarry of Fallowfield. "The Roman Wall, a description

of the Mural Barrier of the North of England," by the Rev. J. C. Bruce,

London, 1867, 4to (3rd ed.), pp. 141, 144, 185. _Cf. Athenaeum_, 15th and

19th of July, 1893.

[22] C. F. Routledge, "History of St. Martin's Church, Canterbury." The

ruins of a tiny Christian basilica, of the time of the Romans, were

discovered at Silchester, in May, 1892.

[23] Quantities of statuettes, pottery, glass cups and vases, arms,

utensils of all kinds, sandals, styles for writing, fragments of

colossal statues, mosaics, &c., have been found in England, and are

preserved in the British Museum and in the Guildhall of London, in the

museums of Oxford and of York, in the cloisters at Lincoln, &c. The

great room at Bath was discovered in 1880; the piscina is in a perfect

state of preservation; the excavations are still going on (1894).

[24] "Itinerarium Cambriae," b. i. chap. v.

[25] "Ut qui modo linguam abnuebant, eloquentiam concupiscerent: inde

etiam habitus nostri honor, et frequens toga; paullatimque discessum et

dilinimenta vitiorum, porticus et balnea, et conviviorum elegantiam."

Tacitus, "Agricolae Vita," xxi.

CHAPTER II.

_THE GERMANIC INVASION._

"To say nothing of the perils of a stormy and unknown sea, who would

leave Asia, Africa, or Italy for the dismal land of the Germans, their

bitter sky, their soil the culture and aspect of which sadden the eye

unless it be one's mother country?" Such is the picture Tacitus draws of

Germany, and he concludes from the fact of her being so dismal, and yet

inhabited, that she must always have been inhabited by the same people.

What others would have immigrated there of their own free will? For the

inhabitants, however, this land of clouds and morasses is their home;

they love it, and they remain there.

The great historian's book shows how little of impenetrable Germany was

known to the Romans. All sorts of legends were current respecting this

wild land, supposed to be bounded on the north-east by a slumbering sea,

"the girdle and limit of the world," a place so near to the spot where

Phoebus rises "that the sound he makes in emerging from the waters can

be heard, and the forms of his steeds are visible." This is the popular

belief, adds Tacitus; "the truth is that nature ends there."[26]

In this mysterious land, between the forests that sheltered them from

the Romans and the grey sea washing with long waves the flat shores,

tribes had settled and multiplied which, contrary to the surmise of

Tacitus, had perhaps left the mild climate of Asia for this barren

country; and though they had at last made it their home, many of them

whose names alone figure in the Roman's book had not adopted it for

ever; their migrations were about to begin again.

This group of Teutonic peoples, with ramifications extending far towards

the pole was divided into two principal branches: the Germanic branch,

properly so called, which comprised the Goths, Angles, Saxons, the upper

and lower Germans, the Dutch, the Frisians, the Lombards, the Franks,

the Vandals, &c.; and the Scandinavian branch, settled farther north and

composed of the Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes. The same region which

Tacitus describes as bordering on the place "where nature ends," held

thus in his day tribes that would later have for their capitals, towns

founded long before by Celts: London, Vienna, Paris, and Milan.

Many hundred years before settling there, these men had already found

themselves in contact with the Celts, and, at the time the latter were

powerful in Europe, terrible wars had arisen between the two races. But

all the north-east, from the Elbe to the Vistula, continued

impenetrable; the Germanic tribes remained there intact, they united

with no others, and alone might have told if the sun's chariot was

really to be seen rising from the ocean, and splashing the sky with salt

sea foam. From this region were about to start the wild host destined to

conquer the isle of Britain, to change its name and rebaptize it in

blood.

Twice, during the first ten centuries of our era, the Teutonic race

hurled upon the civilised world its savage hordes of warriors, streams

of molten lava. The first invasion was vehement, especially in the fifth

century, and was principally composed of Germanic tribes, Angles,

Franks, Saxons, Burgundians, Vandals; the second exercised its greatest

ravages in the ninth century, at the time of Charlemagne's successors,

and proceeded mostly from the Scandinavian tribes, called Danish or

Norman by contemporary chroniclers.

From the third century after Christ, fermentation begins among the

former of these two groups. No longer are the Germanic tribes content

with fighting for their land, retreating step by step before the Latin

invader; alarming symptoms of retaliation manifest themselves, like the

rumblings that herald the great cataclysms of nature.

The Roman, in the meanwhile, wrapped in his glory, continued to rule the

world and mould it to his image; he skilfully enervated the conquered

nations, instructed them in the arts, inoculated them with his vices,

and weakened in them the spring of their formerly strong will. They

called civilisation, _humanitas_, Tacitus said of the Britons, what was

actually "servitude."[27] The frontiers of the empire were now so far

distant that the roar of the advancing tide scarcely reached Rome. What

was overheard of it acted as a stimulus to pleasure, added point to the

rhetorician's speeches, excitement to the circus games, and a halo to

the beauty of red-haired courtesans. The Romans had reached that point

in tottering empires, at which the threat of calamities no longer

arouses dormant energy, but only whets and renews the appetite for

enjoyment.

Meanwhile, far away towards the north, the Germanic tribes, continually

at strife with their neighbours, and warring against each other, without

riches or culture, ignorant and savage, preserved their strength and

kept their ferocity. They hated peace, despised the arts, and had no

literature but drinking and war-songs. They take an interest only in

hunting and war, said Caesar; from their earliest infancy they endeavour

to harden themselves physically.[28] They were not inventive; they

learned with more difficulty than the Celts; they were violent and

irrepressible. The little that is known of their customs and character

points to fiery souls that may rise to great rapturous joys but have an

underlayer of gloom, a gloom sombre as the impenetrable forest, sad as

the grey sea. For them the woods are haunted, the shades of night are

peopled with evil spirits, in their morasses half-divine monsters lie

coiled. "They worship demons," wrote the Christian chroniclers of them

with a sort of terror.[29] These men will enjoy lyric songs, but not

charming tales; they are capable of mirth but not of gaiety; powerful

but incomplete natures that will need to develop fully without having to

wait for the slow procedure of centuries, an admixture of new blood and

new ideas. They were to find in Britain this double graft, and an

admirable literary development was to be the consequence. They set out

then to accomplish their work and follow their destiny, having doubtless

much to learn, but having also something to teach the enervated nations,

the meaning of a word unknown till their coming, the word "war"

(_guerre, guerra_). After the time of the invasions "bellicose,"

"belliqueux," and such words lost their strength and dignity, and were

left for songsters to play with if they liked; a tiny phenomenon, the

sign of terrible transformations.

The invaders bore various names. The boundaries of their tribes, as

regards population and territory, were vague, and in nowise resembled

those of the kingdoms traced on our maps. Their groups united and

dissolved continually. The most powerful among them absorb their

neighbours and cause them to be forgotten for a time, their names

frequently recur in histories; then other tribes grow up; other names

appear, others die out. Several of them, however, have survived: Angles,

Franks, Saxons, Burgundians, Lombards, Suevi, and Alemanni, which became

the names of great provinces or mighty nations. The more important of

these groups were rather an agglomeration of tribes than nations

properly so called; thus under the name of Franks were comprised, in the

third century, the Sicambers, the Chatti, the Chamavi; while the Suevi

united, in the time of Tacitus, the Lombards, Semnones, Angles, and

others. But all were bound by the tie of a common origin; their

passions, customs, and tastes, their arms and costumes were similar.[30]

This human multitude once put in motion, nothing was able to stop it,

neither the military tactics of the legions nor the defeats which it

suffered; neither rivers nor mountains, nor the dangers of unknown seas.

The Franks, before settling in Gaul, traversed it once from end to end,

crossed the Pyrenees, ravaged Spain, and disappeared in Mauritania.

Transported once in great numbers to the shores of the Euxine Sea, and

imprudently entrusted by the Romans with the defence of their frontiers,

they embark, pillage the towns of Asia and Northern Africa, and return

to the mouth of the Rhine. Their expeditions intercross each other; we

find them everywhere at once; Franks are seen at London, and Saxons at

Angers. In 406, Gaul is overrun with barbarians, Vandals, Saxons,

Burgundians, Alemanni; every point of the territory is in flames; the

noise of a falling empire reaches St. Jerome, in his cell at Bethlehem,

and in an eloquent letter he deplores the disaster of Christendom: "Who

could ever have believed the day would come when Rome should see war at

her very gates, and fight, not for glory but for safety? Fight, say I?

Nay, redeem her life with treasure."[31]

Treasure did not suffice; the town was taken and retaken. Alaric sacked

the capital in 410, and Genseric in 455. During several centuries all

who emerge from this human tide, and are able to rule the tempest, are

either barbarians or crowned peasants. In the fifth and sixth centuries

a Frank reigns at Paris, Clovis to wit; an Ostrogoth at Ravenna,

Theodoric; a peasant at Byzantium, Justinian; Attila's conqueror,

Aetius, is a barbarian; Stilicho is a Vandal in the service of the

Empire. A Frank kingdom has grown up in the heart of Gaul; a Visigoth

kingdom has Toulouse for its capital; Genseric and his Vandals are

settled in Carthage; the Lombards, in the sixth century, cross the

mountains, establish themselves in ancient Cisalpine Gaul, and drive

away the inhabitants towards the lagoons where Venice is to rise. The

isle of Britain has likewise ceased to be Roman, and Germanic kingdoms

have been founded there.

Mounted on their ships, sixty to eighty feet long, by ten or fifteen

broad, of which a specimen can be seen at the museum of Kiel,[32] the

dwellers on the shores of the Baltic and North Sea had at first

organised plundering expeditions against the great island. They came

periodically and laid waste the coasts; and on account of them the

inhabitants gave to this part of the land the name _Littus Saxonicum_.

Each time the pirates met with less resistance, and found the country

more disorganised. In the course of the fifth century they saw they had

no need to return annually to their morasses, and that they could

without trouble remain within reach of plunder. They settled first in

the islands, then on the coasts, and by degrees in the interior. Among

them were Goths or Jutes of Denmark (Jutland), Frisians, Franks, Angles

from Schleswig, and Saxons from the vast lands between the Elbe and

Rhine.

These last two, especially, came in great numbers, occupied wide

territories, and founded lasting kingdoms. The Angles, whose name was to

remain affixed to the whole nation, occupied Northumberland, a part of

the centre, and the north-east coast, from Scotland to the present

county of Essex; the Saxons settled further south, in the regions which

were called from them Essex, Sussex, Middlesex, and Wessex: Saxons of

the east, south, centre, and west. It was in these two groups of

tribes, or kingdoms, that literature reached the greatest development,

and it was principally between them also that the struggle for supremacy

set in, after the conquest. Hence the name of Anglo-Saxons generally

given to the inhabitants of the soil, in respect of the period during

which purely Germanic dialects were spoken in England. This composite

word, recently the cause of many quarrels, has the advantage of being

clear; long habit is in its favour; and its very form suits an epoch

when the country was not unified, but belonged to two principal

agglomerations of tribes, that of the Angles and that of the Saxons.[33]

In the same way as in Gaul, the invaders found themselves in the

presence of a people infinitely more civilised than themselves, skilled

in the arts, excellent agriculturists, rich traders, on whose soil arose

those large towns that the Romans had fortified, and connected by roads.

Never had they beheld anything like it, nor had they names for such

things. They had in consequence to make additions to their vocabulary.

Not knowing how to designate these unfamiliar objects, they left them

the names they bore in the language of the inhabitants: _castrum_,

_strata_, _colonia_; which became in their language _chester_, _street_,

or _strat_, as in Stratford, and _coln_ as in Lincoln.

The Britons who had taken to the toga--"frequens toga," says

Tacitus--and who were no longer protected by the legions, made a vain

resistance; the advancing tide of barbarians swept over them, they

ceased to exist as a nation. Contributions were levied on the cities,

the country was laid waste, villas were razed to the ground, and on all

the points where the natives endeavoured to face the enemy, fearful

hecatombs were slaughtered by the worshippers of Woden.

They could not, however, destroy all; and here comes in the important

question of Celtic survival. Some admirers of the conquerors credit them

with superhuman massacres. According to them no Celt survived; and the

race, we are told, was either driven back into Wales or destroyed, so

that the whole land had to be repopulated, and that a new and wholly

Germanic nation, as pure in blood as the tribes on the banks of the

Elbe, grew up on British soil. But if facts are examined it will be

found that this title to glory cannot be claimed for the invaders. The

deed was an impossible one; let that be their excuse. To destroy a whole

nation by the sword exceeds human power, and there is no example of it.

We know, besides, that in this case the task would have been an

especially hard one, for the population of Britain, even at the time of

Caesar, was dense: _hominum infinita multitudo_, he says in his

Commentaries. The invaders, on the other hand, found themselves in

presence of an intelligent, laborious, assimilable race, trained by the

Romans to usefulness. The first of these facts precludes the hypothesis

of a general massacre; and the second the hypothesis of a total

expulsion, or of such extinction as threatens the inassimilable native

of Australia.

In reality, all the documents which have come down to us, and all the

verifications made on the ground, contradict the theory of an

annihilation of the Celtic race. To begin with, we can imagine no

systematic destruction after the introduction of Christianity among the

Anglo-Saxons, which took place at the end of the sixth century. Then,

the chroniclers speak of a general massacre of the inhabitants, in

connection with two places only: Chester and Anderida.[34] We can

ascertain even to-day that in one of these cases the destruction

certainly was complete, since this last town was never rebuilt, and only

its site is known. That the chroniclers should make a special mention of

the two massacres proves these cases were exceptional. To argue from the

destruction of Anderida to the slaughter of the entire race would be as

little reasonable as to imagine that the whole of the Gallo-Romans were

annihilated because the ruins of a Gallo-Roman city, with a theatre

seating seven thousand people have been discovered in a spot uninhabited

to-day, near Sanxay in Poictou. Excavations recently made in England

have shown, in a great number of cemeteries, even in the region termed

_Littus Saxonicum_, where the Germanic population was densest, Britons

and Saxons sleeping side by side, and nothing could better point to

their having lived also side by side. Had a wholesale massacre taken

place, the victims would have had no sepulchres, or at all events they

would not have had them amongst those of the slayers.

In addition to this, it is only by the preservation of the

pre-established race that the change in manners and customs, and the

rapid development of the Anglo-Saxons can be explained. These roving

pirates lose their taste for maritime adventure; they build no more

ships; their intestine quarrels are food sufficient for what is left of

their warlike appetites. Whence comes it that the instincts of this

impetuous race are to some degree moderated? Doubtless from the quantity

and fertility of the land they had conquered, and from the facility they

found on the spot for turning that land to account. These facilities

consisted in the labour of others. The taste for agriculture did not

belong to the race. Tacitus represents the Germans as cultivating only

what was strictly necessary.[35] The Anglo-Saxons found in Britain wide

tracts of country tilled by romanised husbandmen; after the time of the

first ravages they recalled them to their toil, but assigned its fruits

to themselves. Well, therefore, might the same word be used by the

conquerors to designate the native Celt and the slave. They established

themselves in the fields, and superintended their cultivation after

their fashion; their encampments became boroughs: Nottingham,

Buckingham, Glastonbury, which have to the present day retained the

names of Germanic families or tribes. The towns of more ancient

importance, on the contrary, have retained Celtic or Latin names:

London, York, Lincoln, Winchester, Dover, Cirencester, Manchester,

&c.[36] The Anglo-Saxons did not destroy them, since they are still

extant, and only mingled in a feeble proportion with their population,

having, like all Germans, a horror of sojourning in cities. "They

avoided them, regarding them as tombs," they thought that to live in

towns was like burying oneself alive.[37] The preservation in England of

several branches of Roman industry is one proof more of the continuance

of city life in the island; had the British artisans not survived the

invasion, there would never have been found in the tombs of the

conquerors those glass cups of elaborate ornamentation, hardly

distinguishable from the products of the Roman glass-works, and which

the clumsy hands of the Saxon were certainly incapable of fusing and

adorning.[38]

The Britons, then, subsist in large numbers, even in the eastern and

southern counties, where the Germanic settlement was most dense, but

they subsist as a conquered race; they till the ground in the country,

and in the cities occupy themselves with manual labour. Wales and

Cornwall alone, in the isle of Britain, were still places of refuge for

independent Celts. The idiom and traditions of the ancient inhabitants

were there preserved. In these distant retreats, at the foot of Snowdon,

in the valley of St. David's, beneath the trees of Caerleon, popular

singers accompany on their harps the old national poems; perhaps they

even begin to chaunt those tales telling of the exploits of a hero

destined to the highest renown in literature, King Arthur.

But in the heart of the country the national tongue had been for a long

time constantly losing ground; the Britons had learnt Latin, many of

them; they now forget it by degrees, as they had previously forgotten

Celtic, and learn instead the language of their new masters. It was one

of their national gifts, a precious and fatal one; they were swift to

learn.

In France the result of the Germanic conquest was totally different; the

Celtic language reappeared there no more than in England. It has only

survived in the extreme west.[39] But in France the Germanic idiom did

not overpower the Latin; the latter persisted, so much so that the

French tongue has remained a Romance language. This is owing to two

great causes. Firstly, the Germans came to France in much smaller

numbers than to England, and those that remained had been long in

contact with the Romans; secondly, the romanising of Gaul had been more

complete. Of all the provinces of the Empire, Gaul, the birthplace of

Cornelius Gallus, Trogus Pompeius, Domitius Afer, Petronius, Ausonius,

Sidonius Apollinaris, prided itself on speaking the purest Latin, and on

producing the best poets. Whether we take material monuments or literary

ones, the difference is the same in the two countries. In England

theatres, towers, temples, all marks of Latin civilisation, had been

erected, but not so numerous, massive, or strong that the invaders were

unable to destroy them. At the present time only shapeless remnants

exist above ground. In France, the barbarians came, plundered, burnt,

razed to the ground all they possibly could; but the work of destruction

was too great, the multitude of temples and palaces was more than their

strength was equal to, and the torch fell from their tired hands.

Whereas in England excavations are made in order to discover the

remains of ancient Latin civilisation, in France we need only raise our

eyes to behold them. Could the grave give up a Roman of the time of the

Caesars, he would still at this day be able to worship his divine

emperors in the temples of Nimes and Vienne; pass, when entering Reims,

Orange, or Saintes under triumphal arches erected by his ancestors; he

might recognise their tombs at the "Aliscamps" of Arles; could see

_Antigone_ played at Orange, and seated on the gradines of the

amphitheatre, facing the blue horizon of Provence, still behold blood

flowing in the arena.

Gaul was not, like Britain, disorganised and deprived of its legions

when the Germanic hordes appeared; the victor had to reckon with the

vanquished; the latter became not a slave but an ally, and this

advantage, added to that of superior numbers and civilisation, allowed

the Gallo-Roman to reconquer the invader. Latin tradition was so

powerful that it was accepted by Clovis himself. That long-haired

chieftain donned the toga and chlamys; he became a _patrice_; although

he knew by experience that he derived his power from his sword, it

pleased him to ascribe it to the emperor. He had an instinct of what

Rome was. The prestige of the emperor was worth an army to him, and

assisted him to rule his latinised subjects. Conquered, pillaged,

sacked, and ruined, the Eternal City still remained fruitful within her

crumbling walls. Under the ruins subsisted living seeds, one, amongst

others, most important of all, containing the great Roman idea, the

notion of the State. The Celts hardly grasped it, the Germans only at a

late period. Clovis, barbarian though he was, became imbued with it. He

endeavoured to mould his subjects, Franks, Gallo-Romans, and Visigoths,

so as to form a State, and in spite of the disasters that followed, his

efforts were not without some durable results.

In France the vanquished taught the victors their language; the

grandsons of Clovis wrote Latin verses; and it is owing to poems written

in a Romance idiom that Karl the Frank became the "Charlemagne" of

legend and history; so that at last the new empire founded in Gaul had

nothing Germanic save the name. The name, however, has survived, and is

the name of France.

Thus, and not by an impossible massacre, can be explained the different

results of the invasions in France and England. In both countries, but

less abundantly in the latter, the Celtic race has been perpetuated, and

the veil which covers it to-day, a Latin or Germanic tissue, is neither

so close nor so thick that we cannot distinguish through its folds the

forms of British or Gaulish genius; a very special and easily

recognisable genius, very different from that of the ancients, and

differing still more from that of the Teutonic invaders.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] "De Moribus Germanorum," b. ii. chap. xlv.

[27] "Agricola," xxi.

[28] "Vita omnis in venationibus atque in studiis rei militaris

constitit; ab parvulis labori ac duritiei student." "De Bello Gallico,"

book vi.

[29] "Saxones, sicut omnes fere Germaniam incolentes nationes, et natura

feroces et cultui daemonum dediti." Eginhard, "Vita Karoli," vii.

[30] The arms of the Franks and those of the Anglo-Saxons, the former

preserved in the Museum of St. Germain, and the latter in the British

Museum, are similar, and differ widely from those of the Celts. The

shields, a part of the equipment, which among all nations are found

highly ornamented, were equally plain with the Franks and Angles; the

_umbo_ or boss in the centre was, in those of both nations, of iron, and

shaped like a rude dish-cover, which has often caused them to be

catalogued as helmets or military head-pieces.

[31] "Innumerabiles et ferocissimae nationes universas Gallias

occuparunt.... Quis hoc crederet?... Romam in gremio suo non pro gloria,

sed pro salute pugnare? Imo ne pugnare quidem, sed auro et cuncta

supellectile vitam redimere." Epistola cxxiii. ad Ageruchiam, in the

"Patrologia" of Migne, vol. xxii., col. 1057-8.

[32] This ship was discovered in 1863 in a peat bog of Schleswig; that

is in the very country of the Angles; judging by the coins found at the

same time, it must belong to the third century. It measures 22 metres 67

centimetres in length, 3 metres, 33 centim. in breadth, and 1 metre 19

centim. in height. Specimens of Scandinavian ships have also been

discovered. When a chief died his ship was buried with him, as his

chariot or horse was in other countries. A description of a Scandinavian

funeral (the chief placed on his boat, with his arms, and burnt,

together with a woman and some animals killed for the occasion) has been

handed down to us in the narrative of the Arab Ahmed Ibn Fozlan, sent by

the caliph Al Moktader, in the tenth century, as ambassador to a

Scandinavian king established on the banks of the Volga (_Journal

Asiatique_, 1825, vol. vi. pp. 16 ff.). In some cases there was an

interment but no incineration, and thus it is that Norse ships have been

found. Two of these precious relics are preserved in the museum of

Christiania. One of them, discovered in 1880, constructed out of oaken

planks held together by iron nails, still retained several of its oars;

they were about seven yards long, and must have been thirty-two, sixteen

on each side. This measurement seems to have been normal, for the

"Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" says that Alfred had ships built twice the size

of ordinary ships, and gave them "sixty oars or more" (_sub anno_ 897).

A ship constructed on the exact model of the Scandinavian barks went

from Bergen to New York at the time of the Chicago Exhibition, 1893. It

was found to be perfectly seaworthy, even in rough weather.

[33] It may be added in favour of this same word that it is difficult to

replace it by another as clear and convenient. Some have proposed "Old

English," an expression considered as having the advantage of better

representing the continuity of the national history, and marking less

conspicuously the break occasioned by the Norman Conquest. "Anglo-Saxon"

before the Conquest, "English" after, implies a radical change, a sort

of renovation in the people of England. It is added, too, that this

people already bore in the days of King Alfred the name of English. But

besides the above-mentioned reasons, it may be pointed out that this

break and this renovation are historical facts. In language, for

example, the changes have been such that, as it has been justly

observed, classical English resembles Anglo-Saxon less than the Italian

of to-day resembles Latin. Still it would not be considered wise on the

part of the Italians to give the name of "Old Italians" to their Roman

ancestors, though they spoke a similar language, were of the same blood,

lived in the same land, and called it by the same name. As for Alfred,

he calls himself sometimes king of the Saxons "rex Saxonum," sometimes

king of the Angles, sometimes king of the Anglo-Saxons: "AEgo Aelfredus,

gratia Dei, Angol Saxonum rex." AEthelstan again calls himself "rex

Angul-Saxonum" (Kemble, "Codex" ii. p. 124; Grein, "Anglia," i. p. 1; de

Gray Birch, "Cartularium Saxonicum," 1885, ii. p. 333). They never call

themselves, as may be believed, "Old English." The word, besides, is not

of an easy use. In a recent work one of the greatest historians of our

day, Mr. Freeman, spoke of people who were "men of old English birth";

evidently it would have been simpler and clearer to call them

Anglo-Saxons.

[34] "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," Rolls, _sub anno_ 491.

[35] "De Moribus Germanorum," xv., xxvi.

[36] Names of villages recalling German clans or families are very

numerous on the eastern and southern coasts. "They diminish rapidly as

we move inland, and they die away altogether as we approach the purely

Celtic west. Fourteen hundred such names have been counted, of which 48

occur in Northumberland, 127 in Yorkshire, 76 in Lincolnshire, 153 in

Norfolk and Suffolk, 48 in Essex, 60 in Kent, 86 in Sussex and Surrey,

only 2 are found in Cornwall, 6 in Cumberland, 24 in Devon, 13 in

Worcester, 2 in Westmoreland, and none in Monmouth." Grant Allen,

"Anglo-Saxon Britain" (S.P.C.K.), p. 43.

[37] Ammianus Marcellinus: "Ipsa oppida, ut circumdata retiis busta

declinant"; in reference to the Franks and Alemanni, "Rerum Gestarum,"

lib. xvi., cap. ii. Tacitus says the same thing for the whole of the

Germans: "Nullas Germanorum populis urbes habitari, satis notum est....

Colunt discreti ac diversi, ut fons, ut campus, ut nemus placuit. Vicos

locant, non in nostrum morem, connexis et cohaerentibus aedificiis: suam

quisque domum spatio circumdat." "De Moribus Germanorum," xvi.

[38] It seems impossible to admit, as has been suggested, that these

frail objects should have been saved from the plunder and burning of the

villas and preserved by the Anglo-Saxons as _curiosities_. Glasses with

knobs, "_a larmes_," abound in the Anglo-Saxon tombs, and similar ones

have been found in the Roman tombs of an earlier epoch, notably at

Lepine, in the department of the Marne.

[39] Where the Celtic element was reinforced, at the commencement of the

sixth century, by a considerable immigration of Britons driven from

England. Hence the name of Bretagne, given then for the first time to

Armorica.

CHAPTER III.

_THE NATIONAL POETRY OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS._

I.

Towards the close of the fifth century, the greater part of England was

conquered; the rulers of the land were no longer Celts or Romans, but

men of Germanic origin, who worshipped Thor and Woden instead of Christ,

and whose language, customs, and religion differed entirely from those

of the people they had settled amongst and subjugated.

The force of circumstances produced a fusion of the two races, but

during many centuries no literary fusion took place. The mind of the

invader was not actuated by curiosity; he intrenched himself in his

tastes, content with his own literature. "Each one," wrote Tacitus of

the Germans, "leaves an open space around his dwelling." The

Anglo-Saxons remained in literature a people of isolated dwellings. They

did not allow the traditions of the vanquished Celts to blend with

theirs, and, in spite of their conversion to Christianity, they

preserved, almost without change, the main characteristics of the race

from which they were descended.

Their vocabulary, save for the introduction of a few words, taken from

the Church Latin, their grammar, their prosody, all remain Germanic. In

their verse the cadence is marked, not by an equal number of syllables,

but by about the same number of accents; they have not the recurring

sounds of rhyme, but they have, like the Germans and Scandinavians,

_alliteration_, that is, the repetition of the same letters at the

beginning of certain syllables. "Each long verse has four accented

syllables, while the number of unaccented syllables is indifferent, and

is divided by the caesura into two short verses, bound together by

alliteration: two accented syllables in the first short line and one in

the second, beginning with any vowel or the same consonant"[40] (or

consonants giving about the same sound):

_F_lod under _f_oldan | nis thaet _f_eor heonon.

"The water sinks underground; it is not far from here." (_Beowulf._) The

rules of this prosody, not very difficult in themselves, are made still

easier by a number of licenses and exceptions. The taste for

alliteration was destined to survive; it has never completely

disappeared in England. We find this ornamentation even in the Latin of

poets posterior to the Norman Conquest, like Joseph of Exeter in the

twelfth century:

_Au_dit et _au_det

Dux _f_alli: _f_atisque _f_avet quum _f_ata recuset.[41]

The famous Visions of Langland, in the fourteenth century, are in

alliterative verse; under Elizabeth alliteration became one of the

peculiarities of the florid prose called Euphuism. Nearer to our own

time, Byron makes a frequent use of alliteration:

Our bay

Receives that prow which proudly spurns the spray;

How gloriously her gallant course she goes:

Her white wings flying--never from her foes. (_Corsair._)

The purely Germanic period of the literary history of England lasted six

hundred years, that is, for about the same length of time as divides us

from the reign of Henry III. Rarely has a literature been more

consistent with itself than the literature of the Anglo-Saxons. They

were not as the Celts, quick to learn; they had not the curiosity,

loquacity, taste for art which were found in the subjugated race. They

developed slowly. Those steady qualities which were to save the

Anglo-Saxon genius from the absolute destruction which threatened it at

the time of the Norman Conquest resulted in the production of literary

works evincing, one and all, such a similitude in tastes, tendencies,

and feelings that it is extremely difficult to date and localise them.

At the furthest end of the period, the Anglo-Saxons continued to enjoy,

Christian as they were, and in more and more intimate contact with

latinised races, legends and traditions going back to the pagan days,

nay, to the days of their continental life by the shores of the Baltic.

Late manuscripts have preserved for us their oldest conceptions, by

which is shown the continuity of taste for them. The early pagan

character of some of the poetry in "Beowulf," in "Widsith," in the

"Lament of Deor," is undoubted; still those poems continued to be copied

up to the last century of the Anglo-Saxon rule; it is, in fact, only in

manuscripts of that date that we have them. An immense amount of labour,

ingenuity, and knowledge has been spent on questions of date and place,

but the difficulty is such, and that literature forms such a compact

whole, that the best and highest authorities have come on all points to

contrary conclusions. The very greatness of their labour and amplitude

of their science happens thus to be the best proof of the singular

cohesion between the various produce of the Anglo-Saxon mind. Of all the

poets of the period, the one who had the strongest individuality, as

well as the greatest genius, one whom we know by name, Cynewulf, the

only one whose works are authentic, being signed, who thus offered the

best chance to critics, has caused as many disagreements among them as

any stray leaf of parchment in the whole collection of Anglo-Saxon

poetry. According to Ten Brink he was born between 720 and 730;

according to Earle he more probably lived in the eleventh century, at

the other end of the period.[42] One authority sees in his works the

characteristics of the poetry of Northumbria, another inclines towards

Mercia. All possible dates have been assigned to the beautiful poem of

"Judith," from the seventh to the tenth century. "Beowulf" was written

in Northumbria according to Stopford Brooke, in Mercia according to

Earle, in Wessex according to Ten Brink. The attribution of "Andreas" to

Cynewulf has just been renewed by Gollancz, and denied by Fritzsche.

"Dream of the Rood" follows similar fluctuations. The truth is that

while there were doubtless movement and development in Anglo-Saxon

poetry, as in all human things, they were very slow and difficult to

measure. When material facts and landmarks are discovered, still it will

remain true that till then authorities, judging poems on their own

merits, could not agree as to their classification, so little apparent

was the movement they represent. Anglo-Saxon poetry is like the river

Saone; one doubts which way it flows.

Let us therefore take this literature as a whole, and confess that the

division here adopted, of national and worldly and of religious

literature, is arbitrary, and is merely used for the sake of

convenience. Religious and worldly, northern and southern literature

overlap; but they most decidedly belong to the same Anglo-Saxon whole.

This whole has strong characteristics of its own, a force, a passion, a

grandeur, unexampled at that day. Contrary to what is found in Celtic

literature, there is no place in the monuments of Anglo-Saxon thought

for either light gaiety, or those shades of feeling which the Celts

could already express at that remote period. The new settlers are

strong, but not agile. Of the two master passions attributed by Cato to

the inhabitants of Gaul, one alone, the love of war, _rem militarem_, is

shared by the dwellers on the shores of the northern ocean; the other,

_argute loqui_, is unknown to them.

Members of the same family of nations established by the shores of the

North Sea, as the classic nations were on the Mediterranean coasts in

the time of the emperors, the Anglo-Saxon, the German, and the

Scandinavian tribes spoke dialects of the same tongue, preserved common

traditions and the memory of an identical origin. Grein has collected in

his "Anglo-Saxon Library" all that remains of the ancient literature of

England; Powell and Vigfusson have comprised in their "Corpus Poeticum

Boreale" all we possess in the way of poems in the Scandinavian tongue,

formerly composed in Denmark, Norway, the Orkneys, Iceland, and even

Greenland, within the Arctic circle.[43] The resemblances between the

two collections are striking, the differences are few. In both series

it seems as if the same people were revealing its origins, and leading

its heroes to Walhalla.[44] The Anglo-Saxon tale of Beowulf and the

Scandinavian saga of Gretti, the Anglo-Saxon story of Waldhere and the

Scandinavian and Germanic tale of the Niblungs and Volsungs,[45] turn on

the same incidents or are dedicated to the same heroes, represent a

similar ideal of life, similar manners, the same race. They are all of

them part of the literary patrimony common to the men of the North.

As happened with the Celts, the greater number of the monuments of

ancient Germanic and Scandinavian literature has been preserved in the

remotest of the countries where the race established itself; distance

having better sheltered it from wars, the songs and manuscripts were

more easily saved from destruction. Most of the Celtic tales extant at

this day have been preserved in Ireland; and most of the pieces

collected in the "Corpus Poeticum Boreale" have been taken from

Icelandic documents.

Manners and beliefs of the northern people are abundantly illustrated by

the poems included in this collection. We find ourselves amid giants and

dwarfs, monsters, dragons, unconquerable heroes, bloody battles, gloomy

omens, magic spells, and enchanted treasures. The poet leads us through

halls with ornamented seats, on which warriors spend long hours in

drinking; to pits full of serpents into which the vanquished are thrown;

in the midst of dismal landscapes where gibbeted corpses swing in the

wind; to mysterious islands where whirlwinds of flame shoot from the

tombs, and where the heroine arrives on her ships, her "ocean steeds,"

to evoke the paternal shade, behold once more the beloved being in the

midst of infernal fires, and receive from his hands the enchanted and

avenging sword. Armed Valkyrias cross the sky; ravens comment on the

actions of men; the tone is sad and doleful, sometimes so curt and

abrupt that, in order to follow the poet's fantastic imaginations, a

marginal commentary would be necessary, as for the "Ancient Mariner" of

Coleridge, in whom lives again something of the spirit of this

literature.

Scenes of slaughter and torture abound of course, as they do with all

primitive nations; the victims laugh in the midst of their sufferings;

they sing their death-song. Sigfried roasts the heart of his adversary,

Fafni, the man-serpent, and eats it. Eormunrek's feet and hands are cut

off and thrown into the fire before his eyes. Skirni, in order to win

Gerda's love for his master, heaps curses upon her, threatens to cut off

her head, and by these means succeeds in his embassy.[46] Gunnar,

wanting to keep for himself the secret of the Niblungen treasure, asks

for the heart of his own brother, Hogni:

"Hogni's bleeding heart must be laid in my hand, carved with the

keen-cutting knife out of the breast of the good knight.

"They carved the heart of Hialli (the thrall) from out his breast, and

laid it bleeding on a charger, and bore it to Gunnar.

"Then spake Gunnar, king of men: 'Here I have the heart of Hialli the

coward, unlike the heart of Hogni the brave. It quakes greatly as it

lies on the charger, but it quaked twice as much when it lay in his

breast.'

"Hogni laughed when they cut out the quick heart of that crested hero;

he had little thought of whimpering. They laid it bleeding on the

charger and bore it before Gunnar.

"Then spake Gunnar, the Hniflungs' hero: 'Here I have the heart of Hogni

the brave, unlike the heart of Hialli the coward; it quakes very little

as it lies on the charger, but it quaked much less when it lay in his

breast.'"

Justice being thus done to his brother, and feeling no regret, Gunnar's

joy breaks forth; he alone now possesses the secret of the Niblungen

(Hniflungs') treasure, and "the great rings shall gleam in the rolling

waters rather than they shall shine on the hands of the sons of the

Huns."[47]

From this example, and from others which it would be easy to add, it can

be inferred that _nuances_ and refined sentiments escape the

comprehension of such heroes; they waste no time in describing things of

beauty; they care not if earth brings forth flowers, or if women have

cheeks "purple as the fox-glove." Neither have these men any aptitude

for light repartee; they do not play, they kill; their jests fell the

adversary to the ground. "Thou hast eaten the fresh-bleeding hearts of

thy sons, mixed with honey, thou giver of swords," says Queen Gudrun to

Attila, the historic king of the Huns, who, in this literature, has

become the typical foreign hero; "now thou shalt digest the gory flesh

of man, thou stern king, having eaten of it as a dainty morsel, and sent

it as a mess to thy friends." Such is the kind of jokes they enjoy; the

poet describes the speech of the Queen as "a word of mockery."[48] The

exchange of mocking words between Loki and the gods is of the same order

as Gudrun's speech. Cowards! cries Loki to the gods; Prostitutes! cries

he to the goddesses; Drunkard! is the reply of both. There is no

question here of _argute loqui_.

Violent in their speech, cruel in their actions,[49] they love all that

is fantastic, prodigious, colossal; and this tendency appears even in

the writings where they wish to amuse; it is still more marked there

than in the ancient Celtic tales. Thor and the giant go a-fishing, the

giant puts two hooks on his line and catches two whales at once. Thor

baits his hook with an ox's head and draws out the great serpent which

encircles the earth.[50]

Their violence and energy spend their force, and then the man, quite

another man it would seem, veers round; the once dauntless hero is now

daunted by shadows, by thoughts, by nothing. Those strong beings, who

laugh when their hearts are cut out alive, are the prey of vague

thoughts. Already in that far-off time their world, which appears to us

so young, seemed old to them. They were acquainted with causeless

regrets, vain sorrows, and disgust of life. No literature has produced a

greater number of disconsolate poems. Mournful songs abound in the

"Corpus Poeticum" of the North.

II.

With beliefs, traditions, and ideas of the same sort, the Anglo-Saxons

had landed in Britain and settled there.[51] Established in their

"isolated dwellings," if they leave them it is for action; if they

re-enter them it is for solitary reverie, or sometimes for orgies. The

main part of their original literature, like that of their brothers and

cousins on the Continent, consists of triumphal songs and heartrending

laments. It is contemplative and warlike.[52]

They have to fight against their neighbours, or against their kin from

over the sea, who in their turn wish to seize upon the island. The

war-song remains persistently in favour with them, and preserves, almost

intact, its characteristics of haughty pride and ferocity. Its cruel

accents recur even in the pious poems written after the conversion, and

in the middle of the monotonous tale told by the national annalist. The

Anglo-Saxon monk who draws up in his cell the chronicle of the events of

the year, feels his heart beat at the thought of a great victory, and in

the midst of the placid prose which serves to register eclipses of the

moon and murders of kings, he suddenly inserts the bounding verse of an

enthusiastic war-song:

"This year, King AEthelstan, lord of earls, ring-giver of warriors, and

his brother eke Edmund AEtheling, life-long glory in battle won at

Brunanburh.... The foes lay low, the Scots people and the shipman

death-doomed fell. The field streamed with warriors' blood what time the

sun up, at morning-tide the glorious star, glided o'er grounds, God's

candle bright the eternal Lord's, until the noble creature sank to its

setting."

The poet describes the enemy's defeat and flight, the slaughter that

ensues, and with cries of joy calls upon the flocks of wild birds, the

"swart raven with horned neb," and "him of goodly coat, the eagle," and

the "greedy war hawk," to come and share the carcases. Never was so

splendid a slaughter seen, "from what books tell us, old chroniclers,

since hither from the east Angles and Saxons ('Engle and Seaxe'), came

to land, o'er the broad seas, Britain ('Brytene') sought, proud

war-smiths, the Welsh ('Wealas') o'ercame, men for glory eager, the

country gain'd."[53]

The writer's heart swells with delight at the thought of so many

corpses, of so great a carnage and so much gore; he is happy and

triumphant, he dwells complacently on the sight, as poets of another day

and country would dwell on the thought of paths "where the wind swept

roses" (ou le vent balaya des roses).

These strong men lend themselves willingly, as do their kin over the

sea, to the ebb and flow of powerful contrary feelings, and rush body

and soul from the extreme of joy to the acme of sorrow. The mild

_serenite_, enjoyed by men with classical tendencies was to them

unknown, and the word was one which no Norman Conquest, no Angevin rule,

no "Augustan" imitation, could force into the language; it was unwanted,

for the thing was unknown. But they listen with unabated pleasure, late

in the period, to the story of heroic deeds performed on the Continent

by men of their own race, whose mind was shaped like theirs, and who

felt the same feelings. The same blood and soul sympathy which animates

them towards their own King AEthelstan, lord of earls, ring-giver of

warriors--not a myth that one, not a fable his deeds--warms the songs

they devote to King Waldhere of Aquitaine, to the Scandinavian warrior

Beowulf, and to others, probably, who belonged to the same Germanic

stock. Not a word of England or the Angles is said in those poems; still

they were popular in England. The Waldhere song, of which some sixty

lines have been preserved, on two vellum leaves discovered in the

binding of an old book, told the story of the hero's flight from

Attila's Court with his bride Hildgund and a treasure (treasures play a

great part in those epics), and of his successive fights with Gunther

and Hagen while crossing the Vosges. These warriors, after this one

appearance, vanish altogether from English literature, but their

literary life was continued on the Continent; their fate was told in

Latin in the tenth century by a monk of St. Gall, and again they had a

part to play in the German "Nibelungenlied." Beowulf, on the contrary,

Scandinavian as he was, is known only through the Anglo-Saxon poet. In

"Beowulf," as in "Waldhere," feelings, speeches, manners, ideal of life

are the same as with the heroes of the "Corpus Poeticum Boreale." The

whole obviously belongs to the same group of nations.[54]

The strange poem of "Beowulf,"[55] the most important monument of

Anglo-Saxon literature, was discovered at the end of the last century,

in a manuscript written about the year 1000,[56] and is now preserved in

the British Museum. Few works have been more discussed; it has been the

cause of literary wars, in which the learned men of England, Denmark,

Sweden, Germany, France, and America have taken part; and peace is not

yet signed.

This poem, like the old Celtic tales, is a medley of pagan legends,

which did not originally concern Beowulf in particular,[57] and of

historical facts, the various parts, after a separate literary life,

having been put together, perhaps in the eighth century, perhaps later,

by an Anglo-Saxon Christian, who added new discrepancies in trying to

adapt the old tale to the faith of his day. No need to expatiate on the

incoherence of a poem formed of such elements. Its heroes are at once

pagan and Christian; they believe in Christ and in Weland; they fight

against the monsters of Scandinavian mythology, and see in them the

descendants of Cain; historical facts, such as a battle of the sixth

century, mentioned by Gregory of Tours, where the victory remained to

the Frankish ancestor,[58] are mixed up with tales of fantastic duels

below the waves.

According to a legend partly reproduced in the poem, the Danes had no

chief. They beheld one day a small ship on the sea, and in it a child,

and with him one of those ever-recurring treasures. They saw in this

mysterious gift a sign from above, and took the child for their ruler;

"and he was a good king." When that king, Scyld, died, they placed him

once more on a bark with treasures, and the waters bore him away, no one

ever knew whither.

One of his successors, Hrothgar,[59] who held his court, like the Danish

kings of to-day, in the isle of Seeland, built in his old age a splendid

hall, Heorot, wherein to feast his warriors and distribute rings among

them. They drank merrily there, while the singer sang "from far-off ages

the origin of men." But there was a monster named Grendel, who lived in

the darkness of lonely morasses. He "bore impatiently for a season to

hear each day joyous revelry loud-sounding in the hall, where was the

music of the harp, and the clear piercing song" of the "scop." When

night came, the fiend "went to visit the grand house, to see how the

Ring-Danes after the beer-drinking had settled themselves in it. Then

found he therein a crowd of nobles (aethelinga) asleep after the feast;

they knew no care."[60] Grendel removed thirty of them to his lair, and

they were killed by "that dark pest of men, that mischief-working

being, grim and greedy, savage and fierce." Grendel came again and

"wrought a yet worse deed of murder." The thanes ceased to care much for

the music and glee of Heorot. "He that escaped from that enemy kept

himself ever afterwards far off in greater watchfulness."

Higelac, king of the Geatas (who the Geatas were is doubtful; perhaps

Goths of Gothland in Sweden, perhaps Jutes of Jutland[61]), had a

nephew, Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, of the royal Swedish blood, who heard

of the scourge. Beowulf went with his companions on board a ship; "the

foamy-necked cruiser, hurried on by the wind, flew over the sea, most

like to a bird," and followed "the path of the swans." For the North Sea

is the path of the swans as well as of the whales, and the wild swan

abounds to this day on the coasts of Norway.[62] Beowulf landed on the

Danish shore, and proposed to Hrothgar to rid him of the monster.

Hrothgar does not conceal from his guests the terrible danger they are

running: "Often have boasted the sons of battle, drunken with beer, over

their cups of ale, that they would await in the beer-hall, with their

deadly sharp-edged swords, the onset of Grendel. Then in the morning,

when the daylight came, this mead-hall, this lordly chamber, was stained

with gore, all the bench-floor drenched in blood, the hall in

carnage...." The Geatas persist in their undertaking, and they are

feasted by their host: "Then was a bench cleared for the sons of the

Geatas, to sit close together in the beer-hall; there the stout-hearted

ones went and sat, exulting clamorously. A thane attended to their

wants, who carried in his hands a chased ale-flagon, and poured the

pure bright liquor."

Night falls; the Geat and his companions remain in the hall and "bow

themselves to repose." Grendel the "night walker came prowling in the

gloom of night ... from his eyes there issued a hideous light, most like

to fire. In the hall he saw many warriors, a kindred band, sleeping all

together, a group of clansmen. Then he laughed in his heart." He did not

tarry, but seized one of the sleepers, "tore him irresistibly, bit his

flesh, drank the blood from his veins, swallowed him by large morsels;

soon had he devoured all the corpse but the feet and hands." He then

finds himself confronted by Beowulf. The fight begins under the sounding

roof, the gilded seats are overthrown, and it was a wonder the hall

itself did not fall in; but it was "made fast with iron bands." At last

Grendel's arm is wrenched off, and he flees towards his morasses to die.

While Beowulf, loaded with treasure, returns to his own country, another

scourge appears. The mother of Grendel wishes to avenge him, and, during

the night, seizes and eats Hrothgar's favourite warrior. Beowulf comes

back and reaches the cave of the fiends under the waters; the fight is

an awful one, and the hero was about to succumb, when he caught sight of

an enormous sword forged by the giants. With it he slays the foe; and

also cuts off the head of Grendel, whose body lay there lifeless. At the

contact of this poisonous blood the blade melts entirely, "just like

ice, when the Father looseneth the bonds of frost, unwindeth the ropes

that bind the waves."

Later, after having taken part in the historic battle fought against the

Franks, in which his uncle Higelac was killed, Beowulf becomes king, and

reigns fifty years. In his old age, he has to fight for the last time, a

monster, "a fierce Fire-drake," that held a treasure. He is victorious;

but sits down wounded on a stone, feeling that he is about to die. "Now

go thou quickly, dear Wiglaf," he says to the only one of his companions

who had come to his rescue, "to spy out the hoard under the hoar rock;

... make haste now that I may examine the ancient wealth, the golden

store, may closely survey the brilliant cunningly-wrought gems, that so

I may the more tranquilly, after seeing the treasured wealth, quit my

life, and my country, which I have governed long." Bowls and dishes, a

sword "shot with brass," a standard "all gilded, ... locked by strong

spells," from which issued "a ray of light," are brought to him. He

enjoys the sight; and here, out of love for his hero, the Christian

compiler of the story, after having allowed him to satisfy so much of

his heathen tastes, prepares him for heaven, and makes him utter words

of gratitude to "the Lord of all, the King of glory, the eternal Lord";

which done, Beowulf, a heathen again, is permitted to order for himself

such a funeral as the Geatas of old were accustomed to: "Rear a mound,

conspicuous after the burning, at the headland which juts into the sea.

That shall, to keep my people in mind, tower up on Hrones-ness, that

seafaring men may afterwards call it Beowulf's Mound, they who drive

from far their roaring vessels over the mists of the floods." Wiglaf

vainly tries to revive him with water; and addressing his unworthy

companions, who then only dare to come out of the wood, expresses gloomy

forebodings as to the future of his country: "Now may the people expect

a time of strife, as soon as the king's fall shall become widely known

to the Franks and Frisians.... To us never after [the quarrel in which

Higelac died] was granted the favour of the Merovingians

(_Mere-Wioinga_). Nor do I expect at all any peace or faith from the

Swedish people...." The serpent is thrown "over the wall-cliff; they let

the waves take, the flood close upon, the keeper of the treasures." A

mound is built on the hill, "widely visible to seafaring men.... They

placed on the barrow rings and jewels, ... they let the earth hold the

treasure of earls, the gold in the sand where it now yet remaineth, as

useless to men as it [formerly] was."[63] They ride about the mound,

recounting in their chants the deeds of the dead: "So mourned the people

of the Geatas, his hearth-companions, for their lord's fall; said that

he was among world-kings the mildest and the kindest of men, most

gracious to his people and most desirous of praise."

The ideal of a happy life has somewhat changed since the days of

Beowulf. Then, as we see, happiness consisted in the satisfaction of

very simple and primitive tastes, in fighting well, and after the fight

eating and drinking heartily, and listening to songs and music, and

after the music enjoying a sound sleep. The possession of many rings,

handsome weapons and treasure, was also indispensable to make up

complete happiness; so much so that, out of respect towards the chief,

some of his rings and jewels were buried with him, "useless to men," as

the author of "Beowulf" says, not without a touch of regret. Such was

the existence led by those companions of Hrothgar, who are described as

enjoying the happiest of lives before the appearance of Grendel, and who

"knew no care." All that is tender, and would most arouse the

sensibility of the sensitive men of to-day, is considered childish, and

awakes no echo: "Better it is for every one that he should avenge his

friend than that he should mourn exceedingly," says Beowulf; very

different from Roland, the hero of France, he too of Germanic origin,

but living in a different _milieu_, where his soul has been softened.

"When Earl Roland saw that his peers lay dead, and Oliver too, whom he

so dearly loved, his heart melted; he began to weep; colour left his

face."

Li cons Rodlanz, quant il veit morz ses pers

Ed Olivier qu'il tant podeit amer,

Tendror en out, commencet a plorer,

En son visage fut molt descolorez.[64]

Beowulf crushes all he touches; in his fights he upsets monsters, in his

talks he tumbles his interlocutors headlong. His retorts have nothing

winged about them; he does not use the feathered arrow, but the iron

hammer. Hunferth taunts him with not having had the best in a swimming

match. Beowulf replies by a strong speech, which can be summed up in few

words: liar, drunkard, coward, murderer! It seems an echo from the

banqueting hall of the Scandinavian gods; in the same manner Loki and

the goddesses played with words. For the assembled warriors of

Hrothgar's court Beowulf goes in nowise beyond bounds; they are not

indignant, they would rather laugh. So did the gods.

Landscape painting in the Anglo-Saxon poems is adapted to men of this

stamp. Their souls delight in the bleak boreal climes, the north wind,

frost, hail, ice, howling tempest and raging seas, recur as often in

this literature as blue waves and sunlit blossoms in the writings of men

to whom these exquisite marvels are familiar. Their descriptions are all

short, save when they refer to ice or snow, or the surge of the sea. The

Anglo-Saxon poets dwell on such sights complacently; their tongue then

is loosened. In "Beowulf," the longest and truest description is that of

the abode of the monsters: "They inhabit the dark land, wolf-haunted

slopes, windy headlands, the rough fen-way, where the mountain stream,

under the dark shade of the headlands, runneth down, water under land.

It is not far from hence, a mile by measure, that the mere lies; over it

hang groves of [rimy] trees, a wood fast-rooted, [and] bend shelteringly

over the water; there every night may [one] see a dire portent, fire on

the flood. No one of the sons of men is so experienced as to know those

lake-depths. Though the heath-ranging hart, with strong horns, pressed

hard by the hounds, seek that wooded holt, hunted from far, he will

sooner give up his life, his last breath on the bank, before he will

[hide] his head therein. It is not a holy place. Thence the turbid wave

riseth up dark-hued to the clouds, when the wind stirreth up foul

weather, until the air grows gloomy, the heavens weep."

The same unchanging genius manifests itself in the national epic, in the

shorter songs, and even in the prose chronicles of the Anglo-Saxons. To

their excessive enthusiasms succeed periods of complete depression;

their orgies are followed by despair; they sacrifice their life in

battle without a frown, and yet, when the hour for thought has come,

they are harassed by the idea of death. Their national religion foresaw

the end of the world and of all things, and of the gods even. Listen,

once more, to the well-known words of one of them:

"Human life reminds me of the gatherings thou holdest with thy

companions in winter, around the fire lighted in the middle of the hall.

It is warm in the hall, and outside howls the tempest with its

whirlwinds of rain and snow. Let a sparrow enter by one door, and,

crossing the hall, escape by another. While he passes through, he is

sheltered from the wintry storm; but this moment of peace is brief.

Emerging from the cold, in an instant he disappears from sight, and

returns to the cold again. Such is the life of man; we behold it for a

short time, but what has preceded and what is to follow, we know

not...."[65]

Would not Hamlet have spoken thus, or Claudio?

Ay, to die and go we know not where;

To lie in cold obstruction....

Thus spoke, nine centuries before them, an Anglo-Saxon chief who had

arisen in the council of King Eduini and advised him, according to Bede,

to adopt the religion of the monks from Rome, because it solved the

fearful problem. In spite of years and change, this anxiety did not die

out; it was felt by the Puritans, and Bunyan, and Dr. Johnson, and the

poet Cowper.

Another view of the problem was held by races imbued with classical

ideas, the French and others; classical equanimity influenced them. Let

us not poison our lives by the idea of death, they used to think, at

least before this century; there is a time for all things, and it will

be enough to remember death when its hour strikes. "Mademoiselle," said

La Mousse to the future Madame de Grignan, too careful of her beautiful

hands, "all that will decay." "Yes, but it is not decayed yet," answered

Mademoiselle de Sevigne, summing up in a single word the philosophy of

many French lives. We will sorrow to-morrow, if need be, and even then,

if possible, without darkening our neighbours' day with any grief of

ours. Let us retire from life, as from a drawing-room, discreetly, "as

from a banquet," said La Fontaine.[66] And this good grace, which is not

indifference, but which little resembles the anguish and enthusiasms of

the North, is also in its way the mark of strong minds. For they were

not made of insignificant beings, those generations who went to battle

and left the world without a sneer or a tear; with ribbons on the

shoulder and a smile on the lips.[67]

Examples of Anglo-Saxon poems, either dreamy or warlike, could easily be

multiplied. We have the lamentations of the man without a country, of

the friendless wanderer, of the forlorn wife, of the patronless singer,

of the wave-tossed mariner; and these laments are always associated with

the grand Northern landscapes of which little had been made in ancient

literatures:

"That the man knows not, to whom on land all falls out most joyfully,

how I, miserable and sad on the ice-cold sea, a winter pass'd, with

exile traces ... of dear kindred bereft, hung o'er with icicles, the

hail in showers flew; where I heard nought save the sea roaring, the

ice-cold wave. At times the swan's song I made to me for pastime ...

night's shadow darken'd, from the north it snow'd, frost bound the land,

hail fell on the earth, coldest of grain...." Or, in another song:

"Then wakes again the friendless mortal, sees before him fallow ways,

ocean fowls bathing, spreading their wings, rime and snow descending

with hail mingled; then are the heavier his wounds of heart."[68]

There are descriptions of dawn in new and unexpected terms: "The guest

slept within until the black raven, blithe-hearted, gave warning of the

coming of the heaven's joy, the bright sun, and of robbers fleeing

away."[69] Never did the terraces of Rome, the peristyles of Athens, the

balconies of Verona, see mornings dawn like unto these, to the raven's

merry shriek. The sea of the Anglo-Saxons is not the Mediterranean,

washing with its blue waves the marble walls of villas; it is the North

Sea, with its grey billows, bordered by barren shores and chalky cliffs.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] H. Sweet, "Sketch of the History of Anglo-Saxon poetry," in

Hazlitt's Warton, ii. p. 3.

[41] "De Bello Trojano," iii., line 108. Rhyme, however, commenced to

appear in a few Christian poems of the end of the Anglo-Saxon period. On

the use, rather rare, of alliteration in old French, which nevertheless

has been preserved in several current expressions, such as "gros et

gras," "bel et bon," &c., see Paul Meyer, "Romania," vol. xi. p. 572:

"De l'alliteration en Roman de France."

[42] "His date has been variously estimated from the eighth to the

eleventh century. The latter is the more probable." Earle, "Anglo-Saxon

Literature," 1884, p. 228.

[43] Grein, "Bibliothek der Angelsaechsischen Poesie," ed. Wuelker;

Cassel, 1883 ff., 8vo; "Corpus Poeticum Boreale, The poetry of the old

northern tongue, from the earliest to the XIIIth Century," edited and

translated by G. Vigfusson and F. York Powell, Oxford, 1883, 2 vols.

8vo; vol. i., Eddic poetry; vol. ii., Court poetry. Other important

monuments of Scandinavian literature are found in the following

collections: "Edda Snorri," Ion Sigurdsson, Copenhagen, 1848, 2 vols.;

"Norroen Fornkvaedi," ed. S. Bugge, Christiania, 1867, 8vo. (contains the

collection usually called Edda Saemundi); "Icelandic Sagas," ed.

Vigfusson, London, 1887, 2 vols. 8vo (collection of the "Master of the

Rolls"; contains, vol. i., "Orkneinga Saga" and "Magnus Saga"; vol. ii.,

"Hakonar Saga"); "Sturlunga Saga," including the "Islendiga Saga of

Lawman Thordsson, and other works," ed. Vigfusson, Oxford, 1878, 2 vols.

8vo; "Heimskringla Saga, or the Sagas of the Norse Kings, from the

Icelandic of Snorre Sturlason," ed. S. Laing, second edition, revised by

R. B. Anderson, London, 1889, 4 vols. 8vo. The two Eddas and the

principal Sagas will be comprised in the "Saga Library," founded in 1890

by W. Morris and Eirikr Magnusson (Quaritch, London). _Edda_ means

great-grandmother; the prose Edda is a collection of narratives of the

twelfth century, retouched by Snorri in the thirteenth; the Edda in

verse is a collection of poems of various dates that go back in part to

the eighth and ninth centuries. _Saga_ means a narrative; the Sagas are

narratives in prose of an epic character; they flourished especially in

the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

[44] The Anglo-Saxon and the Scandinavian collections both contain the

same kind of poems, and especially epic poems, elegies and laments,

moral poems, war songs, aphorisms, riddles, some of which continue to

puzzle the wisest of our day.

[45] The most ancient fragments of this epic are found in the _Edda_ in

verse; a complete version exists in Icelandic prose ("Volsunga Saga") of

the twelfth century; the German version ("Nibelungenlied") is of the end

of the same century.

[46] "Lay of Skirni."--"Corpus Poeticum," i. p. 114.

[47] "Alta-Kvida."--"Corpus Poeticum," i. p. 48. This is one of the most

ancient poems in the collection.

[48] "Alta-Kvida."--"Corpus Poeticum," i. p. 51.

[49] A single example will be as good as many: "One of the Viking

leaders got the nickname of Boern (Child) because he had been so

tender-hearted as to try and stop the sport of his followers, who were

tossing young children in the air and catching them upon their spears.

No doubt his men laughed not unkindly at this fancy of his, and gave him

the nickname above mentioned." C. F. Keary, "The Vikings in Western

Christendom," 789-888, London, 1891, 8vo, p. 145.

[50] "Hymis-Kvida."--"Corpus Poeticum," i. p. 222.

[51] The most valuable monuments of Anglo-Saxon literature and art are

contained in the following MSS.:

I. _Poetry._--MS. of "Beowulf," preserved in the British Museum, Cotton.

Vitell. A. xv., written towards the end of the tenth or beginning of the

eleventh century. It contains also the fine poem of "Judith," &c.

A fragment of a poem on Waldhere, preserved in the Copenhagen Library.

The Exeter MS., "Codex Exoniensis," written in the tenth or eleventh

century and given, in 1046, by Leofric, first bishop of Exeter, to the

cathedral library of this town, where it is still preserved. It contains

a variety of poetic pieces (Christ, St. Guthlac, Phenix, Wanderer,

Seafarer, Widsith, Panther, Whale, Deor, Ruin, Riddles, &c.).

The "Codex Vercellensis," preserved at Vercelli in Lombardy, containing:

Andreas, The Departed Soul's Address to the Body, Dream of the Holy

Rood, Elene, &c., written in the eleventh century.

The Bodleian MS., Junius xi., containing a poetical version of part of

the Bible, some of which is attributed to Caedmon, written in the tenth

century.

The Paris Anglo-Saxon Psalter (Bibliotheque Nationale, Lat. 8824),

written in the eleventh century, 50 psalms in prose, 100 in verse.

II. _Prose._--The Epinal MS. containing an Anglo-Saxon glossary (eighth

century according to Mr. Sweet, ninth according to Mr. Maunde Thompson).

The Bodleian MS., Hatton 20, containing King Alfred's translation of St.

Gregory's "Regula Pastoralis" (the copy of Werferth, bishop of

Worcester).

The MS. of the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," the Winchester text, in the

library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, MS. lxxiii.

The MSS. of the homilies of AElfric and Wulfstan, Junius xxii. and Junius

xcix., in the Bodleian, and the MS. of the Blickling homilies (Blickling

Hall, Norfolk).

III. _Miniatures._--See especially, the Lindisfarne Gospels, MS. Cotton.

Nero, D. iv., in the British Museum, eighth-ninth century, in Latin with

Anglo-Saxon glosses. Reproductions of these miniatures and other

examples of the same art are to be found in J. O. Westwood, "Facsimiles

of the Miniatures and Ornaments of Anglo-Saxon and Irish MSS." London,

Quaritch, 1868, fol., and "Palaeographia Sacro Pictoria," London, 1844,

fol. See also the fine pen-and-ink drawings in the above-mentioned MS.

Junius xi., in the Bodleian Library.

[52] _Cf._ Tacitus, who says of the Germans: "Celebrant carminibus

antiquis (quod unum apud illos memoriae et annalium genus est)...." "De

Moribus," i. Eginhard in the ninth century notices the same sort of

songs among the Franks established in Gaul: "Item barbara et

antiquissima carmina, quibus veterum regum actus et bella

canebantur...." "Vita Karoli," cap. xxix. (ed. Ideler, "Leben und Wandel

Karl des Grossen," Hamburg and Gotha, 1839, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 89).

[53] "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" (Rolls), i. p. 200; ii. p. 86; year 937.

The song on the battle of Brunanburh, won by the Anglo-Saxons over the

Scotch and Danes, has been translated by Tennyson. Other war songs, a

few out of a great many, have come down to us, some inserted in the

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (like the song on the death of Byrhtnoth, defeated

and killed by the Danes after a hard fight, at the battle of Maldon,

991), some in separate fragments. Among the more remarkable is the very

old fragment on the "Battle of Finnsburg," discovered, like the Waldhere

fragment, in the binding of a book. This battle is alluded to in

"Beowulf." The fragment has been printed by Grein in his "Bibliothek,"

vol. i., and by Harrison and Sharp with their "Beowulf," Boston, third

ed., 1888.

[54] G. Stephens, "Two leaves of King Waldere's lay," Copenhagen and

London, 1860, 8vo; R. Peiper, "Ekkehardi primi Waltharius," Berlin,

1873, 8vo.

[55] "Autotypes of the unique Cotton MS. Vitellius, A. xv. in the

British Museum," with transliteration and notes, by J. Zupitza, Early

English Text Society, 1882, 8vo. "Beowulf" (Heyne's text), ed. Harrison

and Sharp, Boston, third ed. 1888, 8vo. "Beowulf, a heroic Poem of the

VIIIth Century, with a translation," by T. Arnold, London, 1876, 8vo.

"The deeds of Beowulf ... done into modern prose," ed. Earle, Oxford

Clarendon Press, fifth ed., 1892, 8vo. On English place names recalling

personages in "Beowulf," see D. H. Haigh, "Anglo-Saxon Sagas," London,

1861, 8vo (many doubtful conclusions). The poem consists of 3,183 long

lines of alliterative verse, divided into 41 sections; it is not quite

equal in length to a third of the AEneid.

[56] Such is the opinion of Mr. Ward, "Catalogue of Romances," vol. ii.,

London, 1893, p. 1.

[57] This explains how we find them used in Scandinavian literature as

part of the life of totally different heroes; the Icelandic saga of

Gretti tells how Glam, another Grendel, is destroyed by Gretti, another

Beowulf. On these resemblances, see Excursus iii. in the "Corpus

Poeticum Boreale," vol. ii. p. 501; and H. Gering, "Der Beowulf und die

Islaendische Grettisaga," in "Anglia," vol. iii. p 74.

[58] In Gregory of Tours, book iii. chap. 3 ("Historia Ecclesiastica

Francorum," Societe de l'histoire de France, vol. i. p. 270); in

"Beowulf" II. 1202 _et seq._--

Gehwearf tha in Francna faethm feorh cynninges;--

"The life of the king [Higelac] became the prey of the Franks."

Grundtvig was the first to identify Higelac with the Chlochilaicus of

Gregory of Tours. The battle took place about 515; the Scandinavians led

by "Chlochilaicus" were plundering lands belonging to Thierri, king of

Austrasia (511-534), eldest son of Clovis, when he sent against them his

son Theodebert, famous since, who was to die on his way to

Constantinople in an expedition against the Emperor Justinian.

Theodebert entirely routed the enemy, and took back their plunder,

killing their chief, the Chlochilaicus of Gregory, the Huiglaucus "qui

imperavit Getis, et a Francis occisus est" of an old "Liber monstrorum,"

the Higelac of our poem. See H. L. D. Ward, "Catalogue of Romances in

the British Museum," vol. ii. 1893, pp. 6 ff.

[59] According to the poem, the line of succession was: Scyld, Beowulf

(not our hero), Healfdene, Heorogar, Hrothgar.

[60] "Beowulf," 1876, T. Arnold's translation.

[61] This last opinion has been put forward with great force by

Fahlbeck, and accepted by Vigfusson. See Ward, "Catalogue of Romances,"

ii. p. 15, and Appendix.

[62] They are numerous especially in the province of Finmarken; they are

to be found further south in winter.

[63] According to the account of a Scandinavian burial left by Ahmed Ibn

Fozlan (tenth century, see above, p. 27), the custom was to bury with

the dead ornaments and gold embroideries to the value of a third part of

what he left.

[64] "Chanson de Roland," line 2804.

[65] "Talis mihi videtur, vita hominum praesens in terris ad

comparationem ejus, quod nobis incertum est, temporis, quale cum te

residente ad coenam cum ducibus ac ministris tuis tempore brumali,

accenso quidem foco in medio et calido effecto coenaculo, furentibus

autem foris per omnia turbinibus hiemalium pluviarum vel nivium,

adveniensque unus passerum, citissime pervolaverit; qui cum per unum

ostium ingrediens, mox per aliud exierit. Ipso quidem tempore quo intus

est, hiemis tempestati non tangitur, sed tamen parvissimo spatio

serenitatis ad momentum excurso, mox de hieme in hiemem regrediens, tuis

oculis elabitur. Ita haec vita hominum ad modicum apparet; quid autem

sequatur, quidve praecesserit, prorsus ignoramus. Unde si haec nova

doctrina certius aliquid attulit merito esse sequenda videtur."

"Historia Ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum," book ii. cap. 13, year 627.

[66]

Je voudrais qu'a cet age,

On sortit de la vie ainsi que d'un banquet,

Remerciant son hote. (viii. 1.)

[67] Ragnar Lodbrok, thrown among serpents in a pit, defies his enemies,

and bids them beware of the revenge of Woden ("Corpus Poeticum Boreale,"

vol. ii. pp. 341 ff.). In the prisons, at the time of the Terreur, the

guillotine was a subject for _chansons_. The mail steamer _la France_

caught fire, part of the cargo being gunpowder; the ship is about to be

blown up; a foreign witness writes thus: "Tous jusqu'aux petits

marmitons rivalisaient d'elan, de bravoure et de cette gaiete gauloise

dans le peril qui forme un des beaux traits du caractere national."

Baron de Huebner, "Incendie du paquebot la France," Paris, 1887. This

account was written, according to what the author told me, on the day

after the fire was unexpectedly mastered.

[68] "Codex Exoniensis," "Seafarer," p. 306, "Wanderer," p. 291. See

also "Deor the Scald's Complaint," one of the oldest poems in "Codex

Exoniensis," the "Wife's Complaint," the "Ruin," also in "Codex

Exoniensis"; the subject of this last poem has been shown by Earle to be

probably the town of Bath.

[69] T. Arnold's "Beowulf," p. 118, l. 1820.

CHAPTER IV.

_THE CHRISTIAN LITERATURE AND PROSE LITERATURE OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS._

I.

Augustine, prior of St. Martin of Rome, sent by Gregory the Great,

arrived in 597. To the Germanic pirates established in the isle of

Britain, he brought a strange teaching. The ideas he tried to spread

have become so familiar to us, we can hardly realise the amazement they

must have caused. To these fearless warriors who won kingdoms at the

point of their spears, and by means of their spears too won their way

into Walhalla, who counted on dying one day, not in their beds, but in

battle, so that the Valkyrias, "choosers of the slain," might carry them

to heaven on their white steeds, to these men came a foreign monk, and

said: Be kind; worship the God of the weak, who, unlike Woden, will

reward thee not for thy valour, but for thy mercy.

Such was the seed that Rome, ever life-giving, now endeavoured to sow

among triumphant sea-rovers. The notion of the State and the notion of

the Church both rose out of the ruins of the Eternal City; ideas equally

powerful, but almost contradictory, which were only to be reconciled

after centuries of confusion, and alternate periods of violence and

depression. The princes able to foresee the necessary fusion of these

two ideas, and who made attempts, however rude, to bring it about were

rare, and have remained for ever famous: Charlemagne in France and

Alfred the Great in England.

The miracle of conversion was accomplished in the isle, as it had been

on the Continent. Augustine baptized King AEthelberht, and celebrated

mass in the old Roman church of St. Martin of Canterbury. The religion

founded by the Child of Bethlehem conquered the savage Saxons, as it had

conquered the debauched Romans; the difficulty and the success were

equal in both cases. In the Germanic as in the Latin country, the new

religion had to stem the stream; the Romans of the decadence and the men

of the North differed in their passions, but resembled each other in the

impetuosity with which they followed the lead of their instincts. To

both, the apostle came and whispered: Curb thy passions, be hard upon

thyself and merciful to others; blessed are the simple, blessed are the

poor; as thou forgivest so shalt thou be forgiven; thou shalt not

despise the weak, thou shalt _love_ him! And this unexpected murmur was

heard each day, like a counsel and a threat, in the words of the morning

prayer, in the sound of the bells, in the music of pious chants.

The conversion was at first superficial, and limited to outward

practices; the warrior bent the knee, but his heart remained the same.

The spirit of the new religion could not as yet penetrate his soul; he

remained doubtful between old manners and new beliefs, and after fits of

repentance and relapses into savagery, the converted chieftain finally

left this world better prepared for Walhalla than for Paradise. Those

who witnessed his death realised it themselves. When Theodoric the Great

died in his palace at Ravenna, piously and surrounded by priests, Woden

was seen, actually seen, bearing away the prince's soul to Walhalla.

The new converts of Great Britain understood the religion of Christ much

as they had understood that of Thor. Only a short distance divided man

from godhood in heathen times; the god had his passions and his

adventures, he was intrepid, and fought even better than his people. For

a long time, as will happen with neophytes, the new Christians continued

to seek around them the human god who had disappeared in immensity, they

addressed themselves to him as they had formerly done to the deified

heroes, who, having shared their troubles, must needs sympathise with

their sorrows. For a long time, contradictory faiths were held side by

side. Christ was believed in, but Woden was still feared, and secretly

appeased by sacrifices. Kings are obliged to publish edicts, forbidding

their subjects to believe in the ancient divinities, whom they now term

"demons"; but that does not prevent the monks who compile the

"Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" from tracing back the descent of their princes

to Woden: if it is not deifying, it is at least ennobling them.[70]

Be your obedience qualified by reason, St. Paul had said. That of the

Anglo-Saxons was not so qualified. On the contrary, they believed out of

obedience, militarily. Following the prince's lead, all his subjects are

converted; the prince goes back to heathendom; all his people become

heathens again. From year to year, however, the new religion

progresses, while the old is waning; this phenomenon is brought about,

in the south, by the influence of Augustine and the monks from Rome; and

in the north, owing mainly to Celtic monks from the monastery of Iona,

founded in the sixth century by St. Columba, on the model of the

convents of Ireland. About the middle of the seventh century the work is

nearly accomplished; the old churches abandoned by the Romans have been

restored; many others are built; one of them still exists at

Bradford-on-Avon in a perfect state of preservation[71]; monasteries are

founded, centres of culture and learning. Some of the rude princes who

reign in the country set great examples of devotion to Christ and

submission to the Roman pontiff. They date their charters from the

"reign of our Lord Jesus Christ, reigning for ever."[72] The Princess

Hilda founds, in the seventh century, the monastery of Streoneshalch,

and becomes its abbess; Ceadwalla dies at Rome in 689, and is buried in

St. Peter's, under the _Porticus Pontificum_, opposite the tomb of St.

Gregory the Great.[73] AEthelwulf, king of the West Saxons, goes also on

a pilgrimage to Rome "in great state, and remains twelve months, after

which he returns home; and then Charles, king of the Franks, gave him

his daughter in marriage."[74] He sends his son Alfred to the Eternal

City; and the Pope takes a liking to the young prince, who was to be

Alfred the Great.

The notion of moderation and measure is unknown to these enthusiasts,

who easily fall into despair. In the following period, after the Norman

Conquest, when manners and customs were beginning to change, the

chronicler, William of Malmesbury, trying to draw a correct picture of

the ancient owners of the land, is struck by the exaggerations of the

Saxons' temperament. Great numbers of them are drunkards, they lead

dissolute lives, and reign as ferocious tyrants; great numbers of them,

too, are pious, devout, faithful even unto martyrdom: "What shall I say

of so many bishops, hermits, and abbots? The island is rendered famous

by the relics of native saints, so numerous that it is impossible to

visit a borough of any importance without hearing the name of a new

saint. Yet the memory of many has vanished, for lack of writers to

preserve it!"[75]

The taste for proselytism, of which the race has since given so many

proofs, is early manifested. Once converted, the Anglo-Saxons produce

missionaries, who in their turn carry the glad tidings to their pagan

brothers on the Continent, and become saints of the Roman Church. St.

Wilfrith leaves Northumberland about 680, and goes to preach the Gospel

to the Frisians; St. Willibrord starts from England about 690, and

settles among the Frisians and Danes[76]; Winfrith, otherwise called St.

Boniface (an approximate translation of his name), sojourns in Thuringia

and Bavaria, "sowing," as he says, "the evangelical seed among the rude

and ignorant tribes of Germany."[77] He reorganises the Church of the

Franks, and dies martyrised by the Frisians in 755. Scarcely is the

hive formed when it begins to swarm. The same thing happened with all

the sects created later in the English land.

II.

With religion had come Latin letters. Those same Anglo-Saxons, whose

literature at the time of their invasion consisted in the songs

mentioned by Tacitus, "carmina antiqua," which they trusted to memory

alone, who compiled no books and who for written monuments had Runic

inscriptions graven on utensils or on commemorative stones, now have, in

their turn, monks who compose chronicles, and kings who know Latin.

Libraries are formed in the monasteries; schools are attached to them;

manuscripts are there copied and illuminated in beautiful caligraphy and

splendid colours. The volutes and knots with which the worshippers of

Woden ornamented their fibulae, their arms, the prows of their ships, are

reproduced in purple and azure, in the initials of the Gospels. The use

made of them is different, the taste remains the same.

The Anglo-Saxon missionaries and learned men correspond with each other

in the language of Rome. Boniface, in the wilds of Germany, remains in

constant communication with the prelates and monks of England; he begs

for books, asks for and gives advice; his letters have come down to us,

and are in Latin. Ealhwine or Alcuin, of York, called by Charlemagne to

his court, freely bestows, in Latin letters, good advice on his

countrymen. He organises around the great Emperor a literary academy,

where each bears an assumed name; Charlemagne has taken that of David,

his chamberlain has chosen that of Tyrcis, and Alcuin that of Horatius

Flaccus. In this "hotel de Rambouillet" of the Karlings, the affected

style was as much relished as at the fair Arthenice's, and Alcuin, in

his barbarous Latin, has a studied elegance that might vie with the

conceits of Voiture.[78]

Aldhelm (or Ealdhelm, d. 709) writes a treatise on Latin prosody, and,

adding example to precept, composes riddles and a Eulogy of Virgins in

Latin verse.[79] AEddi (Eddius Stephanus) writes a life, also in Latin,

of his friend St. Wilfrith.[80]

The history of the nation had never been written. On the Continent, and

for a time in the island, rough war-songs were the only annals of the

Anglo-Saxons. Now they have Latin chronicles, a Latin which Tacitus

might have smiled at, but which he would have understood. Above all,

they have the work of the Venerable Bede (Baeda), the most important

Latin monument of all the Anglo-Saxon period.

Bede was born in Northumbria, about 673, the time when the final

conversion of England was being accomplished. He early entered the

Benedictine monastery of Jarrow, and remained there till his death. It

was a recently founded convent, established by Benedict Biscop, who had

enriched it with books brought back from his journeys to Rome. In this

retreat, on the threshold of which worldly sounds expired, screened from

sorrows, surrounded by disciples who called him "dear master, beloved

father," Bede allowed the years of his life to glide on, his sole

ambition being to learn and teach.

The peaceful calm of this sheltered existence, which came to an end

before the time of the Danish invasions, is reflected in the writings of

Bede. He left a great number of works: interpretations of the Gospels,

homilies, letters, lives of saints, works on astronomy, a "De Natura

Rerum" where he treats of the elements, of comets, of winds, of the

Nile, of the Red Sea, of Etna; a "De Temporibus," devoted to

bissextiles, to months, to the week, to the solstice; a "De Temporum

Ratione" on the months of the Greeks, Romans, and Angles, the moon and

its power, the epact, Easter, &c. He wrote hymns in Latin verse, and a

life of St. Cuthberht; lastly, and above all, he compiled in Latin

prose, a "Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum,"[81] which has

remained the basis of all the histories composed after his. In it Bede

shows himself as he was: honest, sincere, sedate, and conscientious. He

quotes his authorities which are, for the description of the island and

for the most ancient period of his history, Pliny, Solinus, Eutropius,

Orosius, Gildas. From the advent of Augustine his work becomes his own;

he collects documents, memoranda, testimonies, frequently legends, and

publishes the whole without any criticism, but without falsifications.

He lacks art, but not straightforwardness.

Latinist though he was, he did not despise the national literature in

spite of its ruggedness. He realised it was truly a literature; he made

translations in Anglo-Saxon, but they are lost; he was versed in the

national poetry, "doctus in nostris carminibus," writes his pupil

Cuthberht,[82] who pictures him on his deathbed, muttering Anglo-Saxon

verses. He felt the charm of the poetic genius of his nation, and for

that reason has preserved and naively related the episodes of Caedmon in

his stable,[83] and of the Saxon chief comparing human life to the

sparrow flying across the banquet hall.

Bede died on the 27th of May, 735, leaving behind him such a renown for

sanctity that his bones were the occasion for one of those pious thefts

common in the Middle Ages. In the eleventh century a priest of Durham

removed them in order to place them in the cathedral of that town, where

they still remain. St. Boniface, on receiving the news of this death,

far away in Germany, begged his friends in England to send him the works

of his compatriot; the homilies of Bede would assist him, he said, in

composing his own, and his commentaries on the Scriptures would be "a

consolation in his sorrows."[84]

III.

Anglo-Saxon monks now speak Latin; some, since the coming of Theodore of

Tarsus,[85] even know a little Greek; an Anglo-Saxon king sleeps at

Rome, under the portico of St. Peter's; Woden has left heaven; on the

soil convulsed by so many wars, the leading of peaceful, sheltered

lives, entirely dedicated to study, has become possible: and such was

the case with Bede. Has the nation really changed, and do we find

ourselves already in the presence of men with a partly latinised genius,

such men as the English were hereafter to be? Not yet. The heart and

mind remain the same; the surface alone is modified, and that slightly.

The full infusion of the Latin element, which is to transform the

Anglo-Saxons into English, will take place several centuries hence, and

will be the result of a last invasion. The genius of the Teutonic

invaders continues nearly intact, and nothing proves this more clearly

than the Christian poetry composed in the native tongue, and produced in

Britain after the conversion. The same impetuosity, passion, and

lyricism, the same magnificent apostrophes which gave its character to

the old pagan poetry are found again in Christian songs, as well as the

same recurring alternatives of deep melancholy and noisy exultation.

The Anglo-Saxon poets describe the saints of the Gospel, and it seems as

though the companions of Beowulf stood again before us: "So, we have

learned, in days of yore, of twelve beneath the stars, heroes gloriously

blessed." These "heroes," these "warriors," are the twelve apostles. One

of them, St. Andrew, arrives in an uninhabited country; not a desert in

Asia, nor a solitude in Greece; it might be the abode of Grendel: "Then

was the saint in the shadow of darkness, warrior hard of courage, the

whole night long with various thoughts beset; snow bound the earth with

winter-casts; cold grew the storms, with hard hail-showers; and rime and

frost, the hoary warriors, locked up the dwellings of men, the

settlements of the people; frozen were the lands with cold icicles,

shrunk the water's might; over the river streams, the ice made a bridge,

a pale water road."[86]

They have accepted the religion of Rome; they believe in the God of

Mercy; they have faith in the apostles preaching the doctrine of love to

the world: peace on earth to men of good will! But that warlike race

would think it a want of respect to see in the apostles mere _pacifici_,

and in the Anglo-Saxon poems they are constantly termed "warriors."

At several different times these new Christians translated parts of the

Bible into verse, and the Bible became Anglo-Saxon, not only in

language, but in tone and feeling as well. The first attempt of this

kind was made by that herdsman of the seventh century, named Caedmon,

whose history has been told by Bede. He was so little gifted by nature

that when he sat, on feast days, at one of those meals "where the custom

is that each should sing in turn, he would leave the table when he saw

the harp approaching and return to his dwelling," unable to find verses

to sing like the others. One night, when the harp had thus put him to

flight, he had, in the stable where he was keeping the cattle, a vision.

"Sing me something," was the command of a mysterious being. "I cannot,"

he answered, "and the reason why I left the hall and retired here is

that I cannot sing." "But sing thou must." "What shall I sing, then?"

"Sing the origin of things." Then came at once into his mind "excellent

verses"; Bede translates a few of them, which are very flat, but he

generously lays the fault on his own translation, saying: "Verses, even

the very best, cannot be turned word for word from one language into

another without losing much of their beauty and dignity,"[87] a remark

which has stood true these many centuries. Taken to the abbess Hilda, of

Streoneshalch, Caedmon roused the admiration of all, became a monk, and

died like a saint, "and no one since, in the English race, has ever been

able to compose pious poems equal to his, for he was inspired by God,

and had learnt nothing of men." Some tried, however.

An incomplete translation of the Bible in Anglo-Saxon verses has come

down to us, the work apparently of several authors of different

epochs.[88] Caedmon may be one of them: the question has been the cause

of immense discussion, and remains doubtful.

The tone is haughty and peremptory in the impassioned parts; abrupt

appositions keep the attention fixed upon the main quality of the

characters, the one by which they are meant to live in memory;

triumphant accents accompany the tales of war; the dismal landscapes are

described with care, or rather with loving delight. Ethereal personages

become in this popular Bible tangible realities. The fiend approaches

Paradise with the rude wiles of a peasant. Before starting he takes a

helmet, and fastens it tightly on his head. He presents himself to Adam

as coming from God: "The all-powerful above will not have trouble

himself, that on his journey he should come, the Lord of men, but he his

vassal sendeth."[89]

Hell, the deluge, the corruption of the grave, the last judgment, the

cataclysms of nature, are favourite subjects with these poets. Inward

sorrows, gnawing thoughts that "besiege" men, doubts, remorse, gloomy

landscapes, all afford them abundant inspiration. Satan in his hell has

fits of anguish and hatred, and the description of his tortures seems a

rude draft of Milton's awful picture.

Cynewulf,[90] one of the few poets of the Anglo-Saxon period known by

name, and the greatest of all, feels the pangs of despair; and then

rises to ecstasies, moved by religious love; he speaks of his return to

Christ with a passionate fervour, foreshadowing the great conversions of

the Puritan epoch. He ponders over his thoughts "in the narrowness of

night ... I was stained with my deeds, bound by my sins, buffeted with

sorrows, bitterly bound, with misery encompassed...." Then the cross

appears to him in the depths of heaven, surrounded by angels, sparkling

with jewels, flowing with blood. A sound breaks through the silence of

the firmament; life has been given to "the best of trees," and it

speaks: "It was long ago, yet I remember it, that I was cut down, at the

end of a wood, stirred from my sleep." The cross is carried on the top

of a mountain: "Then the young hero made ready, that was Almighty

God.... I trembled when the champion embraced me."[91]

The poem in which St. Andrew figures as a "warrior bold in war,"

attributed also to the same Cynewulf, is filled by the sound of the sea;

all the sonorities of the ocean are heard, with the cadence and the

variety of the ancient Scandinavian sagas; a multitude of picturesque

and living expressions designate a ship: "Foamy-necked it fareth, likest

unto a bird it glideth over ocean;" it follows the path of the swans,

and of the whales, borne by the ocean stream "to the rolling of the

waters ... the clashing of the sea-streams ... the clash of the waves."

The sea of these poets, contrary to what Tacitus thought, was not a

slumbering sea; it quivers, it foams, it sings.

St. Andrew decides to punish by a miracle the wild inhabitants of the

land of Mermedonia. We behold, as in the Northern sagas, an impressive

scene, and a fantastic landscape: "He saw by the wall, wondrous fast

upon the plain, mighty pillars, columns standing driven by the storm,

the antique works of giants....

"Hear thou, marble stone! by the command of God, before whose face all

creatures shall tremble, ... now let from thy foundation streams bubble

out ... a rushing stream of water, for the destruction of men, a gushing

ocean!...

"The stone split open, the stream bubbled forth; it flowed over the

ground, the foaming billows at break of day covered the earth...."

The sleeping warriors are awakened by this "bitter service of beer."

They attempt to "fly from the yellow stream, they would save their lives

in mountain caverns"; but an angel "spread abroad over the town pale

fire, hot warlike floods," and barred them the way; "the waves waxed,

the torrents roared, fire-sparks flew aloft, the flood boiled with its

waves;" on all sides were heard groans and the "death-song."[92] Let us

stop; but the poet continues; he is enraptured at the sight; no other

description is so minutely drawn. Ariosto did not find a keener delight

in describing with leisurely pen the bower of Alcina.

The religious poets of the Anglo-Saxons open the graves; the idea of

death haunts them as much as it did their pagan ancestors; they look

intently at the "black creatures, grasping and greedy," and follow the

process of decay to the end. They address the impious dead: "It would

have been better for thee very much, ... that thou hadst been created a

bird, or a fish in the sea, or like an ox upon the earth hadst found

thy nurture going in the field, a brute without understanding; or in the

desert of wild beasts the worst, yea, though thou hadst been of serpents

the fiercest, then as God willed it, than thou ever on earth shouldst

become a man, or ever baptism should receive"[93]

This soul should fly from me,

And I be changed into some brutish beast

All beasts are happy, for when they die

Their souls are soon ditched in elements

O soul! be changed into small water drops,

And fall into the ocean; ne'er be found

So will, unknown to him, the very same thoughts be expressed by an

English poet of a later day.[94]

Dialogues are not rare in these poems, but they generally differ very

much from the familiar dialogue of the Celts. They are mostly epic in

character, lyric in tone, with abrupt apostrophes causing the listener

to start, like the sudden sound of a trumpet. When the idea is more

fully developed the dialogue becomes a succession of discourses, full of

eloquence and power sometimes, but still discourses. We are equally far

in both cases from the conversational style so frequent in the Irish

stories.[95]

The devotional poetry of the Anglo-Saxons includes translations of the

Psalms,[96] lives of saints, maxims, moral poems, and symbolic ones,

where the supposed habits of animals are used to illustrate the duties

of Christians. One of this latter sort has for its subject the whale

"full of guile," another the panther[97]; a third (incomplete) the

partridge; a fourth, by a different hand, and evincing a very different

sort of poetical taste, the phenix. This poem is the only one in the

whole range of Anglo-Saxon literature in which the warmth and hues of

the south are preserved and sympathetically described. It is a great

change to find a piece of some length with scarcely any frost in it, no

stormy waves and north wind. The poet is himself struck by the

difference, and notices that it is not at all there "as here with us,"

for there "nor hail nor rime on the land descend, nor windy cloud." In

the land of the phenix there is neither rain, nor cold, nor too great

heat, nor steep mountains, nor wild dales; there are no cares, and no

sorrows. But there the plains are evergreen, the trees always bear

fruit, the plants are covered with flowers. It is the home of the

peerless bird. His eyes turn to the sun when it rises in the east, and

at night he "looks earnestly when shall come up gliding from the east

over the spacious sea, heaven's beam." He sings, and men never heard

anything so exquisite. His note is more beautiful than the sound of the

human voice, than that of trumpets and horns, than that of the harp,

than "any of those sounds that the Lord has created for delight to men

in this sad world."

When he grows old, he flies to a desert place in Syria. Then, "when the

wind is still, the weather is fair, clear heaven's gem holy shines, the

clouds are dispelled, the bodies of waters stand still, when every storm

is lull'd under heaven, from the south shines nature's candle warm," the

bird begins to build itself a nest in the branches, with forest leaves

and sweet-smelling herbs. As the heat of the sun increases "at summer's

tide," the perfumed vapour of the plants rises, and the nest and bird

are consumed. There remains something resembling a fruit, out of which

comes a worm, that develops into a bird with gorgeous wings. Thus man,

in harvest-time, heaps grains in his dwelling, before "frost and snow,

with their predominance earth deck, with winter weeds." From these seeds

in springtime, as out of the ashes of the phenix, will come forth living

things, stalks bearing fruits, "earth's treasures." Thus man, at the

hour of death, renews his life, and receives at God's hands youth and

endless joy.[98]

There are, doubtless, rays of light in Anglo-Saxon literature, which

appear all the more brilliant for being surrounded by shadow; but this

example of a poem sunny throughout is unique. To find others, we must

wait till Anglo-Saxon has become English literature.

IV.

Besides their Latin writings and their devotional poems, the converted

Anglo-Saxons produced many prose works in their national tongue.

Germanic England greatly differed in this from Germanic France. In the

latter country the language of the Franks does not become acclimatised;

they see it themselves, and feel the impossibility of resisting; Latin

as in general use, they have their national law written in Latin, _Lex

Salica_. The popular speech, which will later become the French

language, is nothing but a Latin _patois_, and is not admitted to the

honour of being written. Notwithstanding all the care with which

archives have been searched, no specimens of French prose have been

discovered for the whole time corresponding to the Anglo-Saxon period

save one or two short fragments.[99] With the Anglo-Saxons, laws,[100]

chronicles, and sermons for the common people were written in the

national tongue; and, as Latin was only understood by few, to these

monuments was added a series of translations.[101] The English country

can thus pride itself upon a literature which for antiquity is

unparalleled in Europe.

The chief promoter of the art of prose was that Alfred (or Aelfred) whom

Pope Leo IV. had adopted as a spiritual son, and who reigned over the

West Saxons from 871 to 901. Between the death of Bede and the accession

of Alfred, a great change had occurred in the island; towards the end of

the eighth century a new foe had appeared, the Scandinavian invader.

Stormy days have returned, the flood-gates have reopened; human torrents

sweep the land, and each year spread further and destroy more. In vain

the Anglo-Saxon kings, and in France the successors of Charlemagne,

annually purchase their departure, thus following the example of falling

Rome. The northern hordes come again in greater numbers, allured by the

ransoms, and they carry home such quantities of English coins that "at

this day larger hoards of AEthelred the Second's coins have been found in

the Scandinavian countries than in our own, ... and the national museum

at Stockholm is richer in this series than our own national

collection."[102] These men, termed Danes, Northmen, or Normans, by the

Anglo-Saxon and French chroniclers, reappeared each year; then, like

the Germanic pirates of the fifth century, spared themselves the trouble

of useless journeys, and remained in the proximity of plunder. They

settled first on the coasts, then in the interior. We find them

established in France about the middle of the ninth century; in England

they winter in Thanet for the first time in 851, and after that do not

leave the country. The small Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, alive only to local

interests, and unable to unite in a common resistance, are for them an

easy prey. The Scandinavians move about at their ease, sacking London

and the other towns. They renew their ravages at regular intervals, as

men would go fishing at the proper season.[103] They are designated

throughout the land by a terribly significant word: "the Army." When the

Anglo-Saxon chronicles make mention of "the Army" the northern vikings

are always meant, not the defenders of the country. Monasteries are

burnt by the invaders with no more remorse than if they were peasants'

huts; the vikings do not believe in Christ. Once more, and for the last

time, Woden has worshippers in Britain.

Harassed by the Danes, having had to flee and disappear and hide

himself, Alfred, after a long period of reverses, resumed the contest

with a better chance, and succeeded in setting limits to the

Scandinavian incursions. England was divided in two parts, the north

belonging to the Danes, and the south to Alfred, with Winchester for his

capital.[104]

In the tumult caused by these new wars, what the

Saxons had received of Roman culture had nearly all been swept away.

Books had been burnt, clerks had forgotten their Latin; the people were

relapsing by degrees into barbarism. Formerly, said Alfred, recalling to

mind the time of Bede and Alcuin, "foreigners came to this land in

search of wisdom and instruction, and we should now have to get them

from abroad if we wanted to have them." He does not believe there

existed south of the Thames, at the time of his accession, a single

Englishman "able to translate a letter from Latin into English. When I

considered all this, I remembered also how I saw, before it had been all

ravaged and burnt, how the churches throughout the whole of England

stood filled with treasures and books, and there was also a great

multitude of God's servants, but they had very little knowledge of the

books, for they could not understand anything of them, because they were

not written in their own language." It is a great wonder that men of the

preceding generation, "good and wise men who were formerly all over

England," wrote no translation. There can be but one explanation: "They

did not think that men would ever be so careless, and that learning

would so decay." Still the case is not absolutely hopeless, for there

are many left who "can read English writing." Remembering which, "I

began, among other various and manifold troubles of this kingdom, to

translate into English the book which is called in Latin Pastoralis, and

in English Shepherd's Book ('Hirdeboc'), sometimes word for word, and

sometimes according to the sense, as I had learnt it from Plegmund my

archbishop, and Asser my bishop, and Grimbold my mass-priest, and John

my mass-priest."[105] These learned men, and especially the Welshman

Asser, who was to Alfred what Alcuin was to Charlemagne, helped him to

spread learning by means of translations and by founding schools. They

explained to him the hard passages, to the best of their understanding,

which it is true was not always perfect.

Belonging to the Germanic race by his blood, and to the Latin realm by

his culture, keeping as much as he could the Roman ideal before his

eyes, Alfred evinced during all his life that composite genius, at once

practical and passionate, which was to be, after the Norman Conquest,

the genius of the English people. He was thus an exceptional man, and

showed himself a real Englishman before the time. Forsaken by all, his

destruction being, as it seemed, a question of days, he does not yield;

he bides his time, and begins the fight again when the day has come. His

soul is at once noble and positive; he does not busy himself with

learning out of vanity or curiosity or for want of a pastime; he wishes

to gather from books substantial benefits for his nation and himself. In

his wars he remembers the ancients, works upon their plans, and finds

that they answer well. He chooses, in order to translate them, books

likely to fill up the greatest gaps in the minds of his countrymen,

"some books which are most needful for all men to know,"[106] the book

of Orosius, which will be for them as a handbook of universal history;

the Ecclesiastical History of Bede, that will instruct them concerning

their own past. He teaches laymen their duties with the "Consolation" of

Boethius, and ecclesiastics with the Pastoral Rule of St. Gregory.[107]

His sole aim being to instruct, he does not hesitate to curtail his

authors when their discourses are useless or too long, to comment upon

them when obscure, to add passages when his own knowledge allows him. In

his translation of Bede, he sometimes contents himself with the titles

of the chapters, suppressing the rest; in his Orosius he supplements the

description of the world by details he has collected himself concerning

those regions of the North which had a national interest for his

compatriots. He notes down, as accurately as he can, the words of a

Scandinavian whom he had seen, and who had undertaken a voyage of

discovery, the first journey towards the pole of which an account has

come down to us:

"Ohthere told his lord, king Alfred, that he dwelt northmost of all

Northmen. He said that he dwelt in the land to the northward, along the

west sea.[108] He said, however, that that land is very long north from

thence, but it is all waste, except in a few places where the Fins here

and there dwell, for hunting in the winter, and in the summer for

fishing in that sea. He said that he was desirous to try, once on a

time, how far that country extended due north; or whether any one lived

to the north of the waste. He then went due north, along the country,

leaving all the way, the waste land on the right, and the wide sea on

the left, for three days: he was as far north as the whale-hunters go at

the farthest. Then he proceeded in his course due north as far as he

could sail within another three days. Then the land there inclined due

east, or the sea into the land, he knew not which; but he knew that he

there waited for a west wind, or a little north, and sailed thence

eastward along that land, as far as he could sail in four days." He

arrives at a place where the land turns to the south, evidently

surrounding the White Sea, and he finds a broad river, doubtless the

Dwina, that he dares not cross on account of the hostility of the

inhabitants. This was the first tribe he had come across since his

departure; he had only seen here and there some Fins, hunters and

fishers. "He went thither chiefly, in addition to seeing the country, on

account of the walruses, because they have very noble bones in their

teeth; some of those teeth they brought to the king; and their hides are

very good for ship ropes." Ohthere, adds Alfred, was very rich; he had

six hundred tame reindeer; he said the province he dwelt in was called

Helgoland, and that no one lived north of him.[109] The traveller gave

also some account of lands more to the south, and even more interesting

for his royal listener, namely Jutland, Seeland, and Sleswig, that is,

as Alfred is careful to notice, the old mother country: "In these lands

the Angles dwelt, before they came hither to this land."

When he has to deal with a Latin author, Alfred uses as much liberty. He

takes the book that the adviser of Theodoric the Great, Boethius, had

composed while in prison, and in which we see a personified abstraction,

Wisdom, bringing consolation to the unfortunate man threatened with

death. No work was more famous in the Middle Ages; it helped to spread

the taste for abstract personages, owing to which so many shadows,

men-virtues and men-vices, were to tread the boards of the mediaeval

stage, and the strange plays called _Moralities_ were to enjoy a lasting

popularity. The first in date of the numerous translations made of

Boethius is that of Alfred.

Under his pen, the vague Christianity of Boethius[110] becomes a naive

and superabundant faith; each episode is moralised; the affected

elegance of the model disappears, and gives place to an almost childlike

and yet captivating sincerity. The story of the misfortunes of Orpheus,

written by Boethius in a very pretentious style, has in Alfred's

translation a charm of its own, the charm of the wild flower.

Among the innumerable versions of this tale, the king's is certainly the

one in which art has the least share, and in which emotion is most

communicative: "It happened formerly that there was a harper in the

country called Thrace, which was in Greece. The harper was inconceivably

good. His name was Orpheus. He had a very excellent wife who was called

Eurydice. Then began men to say concerning the harper that he could harp

so that the wood moved, and the stones stirred themselves at the sound,

and the wild beasts would run thereto, and stand as if they were tame;

so still that though men or hounds pursued them, they shunned them not.

Then said they that the harper's wife should die, and her soul should be

led to hell. Then should the harper become so sorrowful that he could

not remain among other men, but frequented the wood, and sat on the

mountain both day and night, weeping and harping, so that the woods

shook, and the rivers stood still, and no hart shunned any lion, nor

hare any hound; nor did cattle know any hatred, or any fear of others,

for the pleasure of the sound. Then it seemed to the harper that nothing

in this world pleased him. Then thought he that he would seek the gods

of hell and endeavour to allure them with his harp, and pray that they

would give him back his wife."

He goes down to the nether region; at the sweetness of his harping,

Cerberus "began to wag his tail." Cerberus was "the dog of hell; he

should have three heads." "A very horrible gatekeeper," Charon by name,

"had also three heads," according to the calculation of Alfred, whose

mythology is not very safe. Charon welcomes the harper, "because he was

desirous of the unaccustomed sound"; all sufferings cease at the melody

of the harp; the wheel of Ixion ceases to turn; the hunger of Tantalus

is appeased; the vulture ceases to torment King Tityus; and the prayer

of Orpheus is granted.

"But men can with difficulty, if at all, restrain love!" Orpheus

retraces his steps, and, contrary to his promise, looks behind and

stretches his hand towards the beloved shadow, and the shadow fades

away. Moral--for with Alfred everything has a moral--when going to

Christ, never look behind, for fear of being beguiled by the tempter: a

practical conclusion not to be found in Boethius.[111]

Following the king's example, the bishops and monks set to work again.

Werferth, bishop of Worcester, translates the famous dialogues of St.

Gregory, filled with miracles and marvellous tales.[112] In the

monasteries the old national Chronicles, written in the Anglo-Saxon

tongue, are copied, corrected, and continued. These Chronicles existed

before Alfred, but they were instilled with a new life owing to his

influence. Seven of them have come down to us.[113] It is not yet

history; events are registered in succession, usually without comment;

kings ascend the throne and they are killed; bishops are driven from

their seats, a storm destroys the crops; the monk notes all these

things, and does not add a word showing what he thinks of them.[114] He

writes as a recorder, chary of words. The reader's feelings will be

moved by the deeds registered, not by the words used. Of kings the

chronicler will often say, "he was killed," without any observation:

"And king Osric was killed.... And king Selred was killed...." Why say

more? it was an everyday occurrence and had nothing curious about it.

But a comet is not seen every day; a comet is worth describing:

"678.--In this year, the star [called] comet appeared in August, and

shone for three months every morning like sunbeam. And bishop Wilfrith

was driven from his bishopric by king Ecgferth." We are far from the art

of Gibbon or Carlyle. Few monuments, however, are more precious than

those old annals; for no people in Europe can pride itself on having

chronicles so ancient written in its national language.

"Every craft and every power," said Alfred once, speaking there his own

mind, "soon becomes old and is passed over in silence, if it be without

wisdom.... This is now especially to be said, that I wished to live

honourably whilst I lived, and, after my life, to leave to the men who

were after me my memory in good works."[115] It happened as he had

wished. Long after his death, his influence was still felt; he was the

ideal his successors strove to attain to; even after the Norman Conquest

he continued to be: "Englene herde, Englene derling."[116]

V.

Alfred disappears; disturbances begin again; then, in the course of the

tenth century, comes a fresh period of comparative calm. Edgar is on the

throne, and the archbishop St. Dunstan rules under his name.[117]

Helped by Bishop AEthelwold, Dunstan resumed the never-ending and

ever-threatened task of teaching the people and clergy; he endowed

monasteries, and like Alfred created new schools and encouraged the

translation of pious works. Under his influence collections of sermons

in the vulgar tongue were formed.[118] Several of these collections have

come down to us: one of them, the Blickling Homilies (from Blickling

Hall, Norfolk, where the manuscript was found), was compiled before

971[119]; others are due to the celebrated monk AElfric, who became abbot

of Eynsham in 1005, and wrote most of his works about this time[120];

another collection includes the sermons of Wulfstan, bishop of York from

1002 to 1023.[121]

These sermons, most of which are translated from the Latin, "sometimes

word for word and sometimes sense for sense," according to the example

set by Alfred, were destined for "the edification of the ignorant, who

knew no language" except the national one.[122]

The congregation being made up mostly of rude, uneducated people, must

be interested in order that it may listen to the sermons; the homilies

are therefore filled with legendary information concerning the Holy

Land, with minute pictures of the devil and apostles, with edifying

tales full of miracles. In the homilies of Blickling, the church of the

Holy Sepulchre is described in detail, with its sculptured portals, its

stained-glass and its lamps, that threefold holy temple, existing far

away at the other extremity of the world, in the distant East.[123] This

church has no roof, so that the sky into which Christ's body ascended

can be always seen; but, by God's grace, rain water never falls there.

The preacher is positive about his facts; he has them from travellers

who have seen with their own eyes this cathedral of Christendom.

AElfric also keeps alive the interest of the listeners by propounding

difficult questions to them which he answers himself at once. "Now many

a man will think and inquire whence the devil came?... Now some man will

inquire whence came his [own] soul, whether from the father or the

mother? We say from neither of them; but the same God who created Adam

with his hands ... that same giveth a soul and life to children."[124]

Why are there no more miracles? "These wonders were needful at the

beginning of Christianity, for by these signs was the heathen folk

inclined to faith. The man who plants trees or herbs waters them so long

until they have taken root; when they are growing he ceases from

watering. Also, the Almighty God so long showed his miracles to the

heathen folk until they were believing: when faith had sprung up over

all the world, then miracles ceased."[125]

The lives of the saints told by AElfric recall at times tales in the

Arabian Nights. There are transformations, disparitions, enchantments,

emperors who become hermits, statues that burst, and out of which comes

the devil. "Go," cries the apostle to the fiend, "go to the waste where

no bird flies, nor husbandman ploughs, nor voice of man sounds." The

"accursed spirit" obeys, and he appears all black, "with sharp visage

and ample beard. His locks hung to his ankles, his eyes were scattering

fiery sparks, sulphureous flame stood in his mouth, he was frightfully

feather-clad."[126] This is already the devil of the Mysteries, the one

described by Rabelais, almost in the same words. We can imagine the

effect of so minute a picture on the Saxon herdsmen assembled on Sunday

in their little mysterious churches, almost windowless, like that of

Bradford-on-Avon.

One peculiarity makes these sermons remarkable; in them can be discerned

a certain effort to attain to literary dignity. The preacher tries his

best to speak well. He takes all the more pains because he is slightly

ashamed, being himself learned, to write in view of such an illiterate

public. He does not know any longer Alfred's doubts, who, being

uncertain as to which words best express the meaning of his model, puts

down all those his memory or glossary supply: the reader can choose. The

authors of these homilies purposely write prose which comes near the

tone and forms of poetry. Such are almost always the beginnings of

literary prose. They go as far as to introduce a rude cadence in their

writings, and adapt thereto the special ornament of Germanic verse,

alliteration. Wulfstan and AElfric frequently afford their audience the

pleasure of those repeated sonorities, so much so that it has been

possible to publish a whole collection of sermons by the latter in the

form of poems.[127] Moreover, the subject itself is often poetic, and

the priest adorns his discourse with images and metaphors. Many passages

of the "Blickling Homilies," read in a translation, might easily be

taken for poetical extracts. Such are the descriptions of

contemporaneous evils, and of the signs that will herald the end of the

world, that world that "fleeth from us with great bitterness, and we

follow it as it flies from us, and love it although it is passing

away."[128]

Such are also the descriptions of landscapes, where even now, in this

final period of the Anglo-Saxon epoch, northern nature, snow and ice are

visibly described, as in "Beowulf," with delight, by connoisseurs: "As

St. Paul was looking towards the northern region of the earth, from

whence all waters pass down, he saw above the water a hoary stone, and

north of the stone had grown woods, very rimy. And there were dark

mists; and under the stone was the dwelling-place of monsters and

execrable creatures."[129]

* * * * *

Thus Anglo-Saxon literature, in spite of the efforts of Cynewulf,

Alfred, Dunstan, and AElfric goes on repeating itself. Poems, histories,

and sermons are conspicuous, now for their grandeur, now for the emotion

that is in them; but their main qualities and main defects are very much

alike; they give an impression of monotony. The same notes, not very

numerous, are incessantly repeated. The Angles, Saxons, and other

conquerors who came from Germany have remained, from a literary point of

view, nearly intact in the midst of the subjugated race. Their

literature is almost stationary; it does not perceptibly move and

develop. A graft is wanted; Rome tried to insert one, but a few branches

only were vivified, not the whole tree; and the fruit is the same each

year, wild and sometimes poor.

The political state of the country leaves on the mind a similar

impression. The men of Germanic blood established in England remain, or

nearly so, grouped together in tribes; their hamlet is the mother

country for them. They are unable to unite against the foreign foe.

Their subdivisions undergo constant change, much as they did, centuries

before, on the Continent. A swarm of petty kings, ignored by history,

are known to have lived and reigned, owing to their name having been

found appended to charters; there were kings of the Angles of the South,

kings of half Kent, kings with fewer people to rule than a village mayor

of to-day. They are killed, and, as we have seen, the thing is of no

importance.

The Danes come again; at one time they own the whole of England, which

is thus subject to the same king as Scandinavia. Periods of unification

are merely temporary, and due to the power or the genius of a prince:

Alfred, AEthelstan, Cnut the Dane; but the people of Great Britain keep

their tendency to break up into small kingdoms, into earldoms, as they

were called in the eleventh century, about the end of the period; into

tribes, in reality, as when they inhabited the Germanic land. Out of

this chaos how can a nation arise? a nation that may give birth to

Shakespeare, crush the Armada, people the American continent? No less

than a miracle is needed. The miracle took place: it was the battle of

Hastings.

FOOTNOTES:

[70] "Hengest and Horsa ... were the sons of Wihtgils; Wihtgils was the

son of Witta, Witta of Wecta, Wecta of Woden. From Woden sprang all our

royal kin, and the Southumbrians also" (year 449, "Anglo-Saxon

Chronicle," Peterborough text). "Penda was the son of Pybba, Pybba of

Cryda ... Waermund of Wihtlaeg, Wihtlaeg of Woden" (_Ibid._ year 626).

Orderic Vital, born in England, and writing in Normandy, in the twelfth

century, continues to trace back the descent of the kings of England to

Woden: "a quo Angh feriam [iv]am Wodenis diem nuncupant" ("Hist.

Eccl.," ed. Le Prevost, vol. iii. p 161). "Wodenis dies" has become

Wednesday. In the same fashion, and even more characteristically, the

feast of the northern goddess Eostra has become "Easter":

"Eostur-monath, qui nunc paschalis mensis interpretatur, quondam a dea

eorum quae Eostre vocabatur ... nomen habuit." Bede, "De Temporum

Ratione" in Migne's "Patrologia," xc., col. 357. Similar genealogies

occur in Matthew Paris, thirteenth century, "Chronica Majora," vol. i.

pp. 188-9, 422 (Rolls).

[71] This unique monument seems to be of the eighth century. _Cf._

"Pre-Conquest Churches of Northumbria," an article by C. Hodges in the

"Reliquary," July, 1893.

[72] For example, charter of Offa, dated 793, "Matthaei Parisiensis ...

Chronica Majora," ed. Luard (Rolls), vol. vi., "Additamenta," pp. 1, 25,

&c.: "Regnante Domino nostro Jesu Christo in perpetuum."

[73] "King Ceadwalla's tomb in the ancient basilica of St. Peter," by M.

Tesoroni, Rome, 1891, 8vo.

[74] "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," year 855. The princess was Judith,

daughter of Charles the Bald. Hincmar, archbishop of Reims, blessed the

marriage.

[75] "Quid dicam de tot episcopis ..." &c. "Willelmi Malmesbiriensis....

Gesta regum Anglorum," ed. Hardy, London, 1840, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. ii. p.

417.

[76] See his will and various documents concerning him in Migne's

"Patrologia," vol. lxxxix., col. 535 _et seq._

[77] "Fraternitatis vestrae pietatem intimis obsecramus precibus ut nos

inter feras et ignaras gentes Germaniae laborantes, vestris sacrosanctis

orationibus adjuvemur." Boniface to Cuthberht and others, year 735, in

Migne's "Patrologia," vol. lxxxix., col. 735.

[78] "Ideo haec Vestrae Excellentiae dico ... ut aliquos ex pueris nostris

remittam, qui excipiant nobis necessaria quaeque, et revehant in Franciam

flores Britanniae: ut non sit tantummodo in Eborica hortus conclusus, sed

in Turonica emissiones Paradisi cum pomorum fructibus, ut veniens Auster

perflare hortos Ligeris fluminis et fluant aromata illius...." Migne's

"Patrologia," vol. c., col. 208. Many among Alcuin's letters are

directed to Anglo-Saxon kings whom he does not forbear to castigate,

threatening them, if need be, with the displeasure of the mighty

emperor: "Ad Offam regem Merciorum;" "Ad Coenulvum regem Merciorum,"

year 796, col. 213, 232.

[79] Works in Migne's "Patrologia," vol. lxxxix. col. 87 _et seq._ They

include, besides his poetry ("De laude Virginum," &c.), a prose

treatise: "De Laudibus Virginitatis," and other works in prose. He uses

alliteration in his Latin poems.

[80] "Vita Sancti Wilfridi episcopi Eboracensis, auctore Eddio

Stephano," in Gale's "Historiae Britannicae, Saxonicae, Anglo-Danicae

Scriptores x." Oxford, 1691, 2 vols. fol., vol. i. pp. 50 ff.

[81] Ed. G. H. Moberly, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1881, 8vo (or

Stevenson, London, 1838-41, 2 vols. 8vo). Complete works in Migne's

"Patrologia," vol. xc. ff.

[82] Letter of Cuthberht, later abbot of Jarrow, to his friend Cuthwine,

on the death of Bede, printed with the "Historia ecclesiastica." Bede is

represented, on his death-bed, "in nostra lingua, ut erat doctus in

nostris carminibus, dicens de terribili exitu animarum e corpore:

Fore the nei-faerae

Naenig uniurthit

Thonc snoturra...."

Bede had translated the Gospel of St. John, but this work is lost.

[83] See below, p. 70.

[84] Letter of the year 735, "Cuthberto et aliis"; letter of 736 to

Ecgberht, archbishop of York. He receives the books, and expresses his

delight at them; he sends in exchange pieces of cloth to Ecgberht;

letter of the year 742; "Patrologia," vol. lxxxix.

[85] Archbishop of Canterbury, seventh century.

[86] J. M. Kemble, "Codex Vercellensis," London, AElfric Society,

1847-56; Part I., ll. 1 ff., 2507 ff., "Andreas," attributed to

Cynewulf. On this question, see Gollancz, "Cynewulf's Christ," London,

1892, p. 173.

[87] "Neque enim possunt carmina, quamvis optime composita ex alia in

aliam linguam ad verbum sine detrimento sui decoris ac dignitatis

transferri." "Historia Ecclesiastica," book iv. chap. xxiv.

[88] "Caedmon's metrical paraphrase of parts of the Holy Scripture in

Anglo-Saxon, with an English translation," by B. Thorpe, London, Society

of Antiquaries, 1832, 8vo. An edition by Junius (Francis Dujon by his

true name, born at Heidelberg, d. at Windsor, 1678) had been published

at Amsterdam in 1655, and may have been known to Milton (_cf._ "Caedmon

und Milton," by R. Wuelcker, in "Anglia," vol. iv. p. 401). Junius was

the first to attribute this anonymous poem, or rather collection of

poems ("Genesis," "Exodus," "Daniel," "Christ and Satan") to Caedmon.

"Genesis" is made up of two different versions of different dates,

clumsily put together. German critics, and especially Prof. Ed. Sievers

("Der Heliand," Halle, 1875), have conclusively shown that lines 1 to

234, and 852 to the end, belong to the same and older version (possibly

by Caedmon); lines 235 to 851, inserted without much care, as they retell

part of the story to be found also in the older version, are of a more

recent date, and show a strong resemblance to the old Germanic poem

"Heliand" (Healer, Saviour) in alliterative verse, of the ninth century.

Another biblical story was paraphrased in Anglo-Saxon verse, and was the

subject of the beautiful poem of "Judith," preserved in the same MS. as

"Beowulf." Grein's "Bibliothek," vol. i.

[89] "Metrical Paraphrase," pp. 29 ff.

[90] Four poems have come down to us signed by means of an acrostic on

the Runic letters of his name: "Elene" (on the finding of the cross),

"Fates of the Apostles" (both in "Codex Vercellensis"), "Juliana" and

"Christ" (in "Codex Exoniensis"); a separate edition of "Christ" has

been given by M. Gollancz, London, 1892, 8vo. Many other poems, and even

the whole of "Codex Vercellensis," have been attributed to him. The

eighty-nine riddles of "Codex Exoniensis," some of which continue to

puzzle the readers of our day, are also considered by some as his: one

of the riddles is said to contain a charade on his name, but there are

doubts; ample discussions have taken place, and authorities disagree:

"The eighty-sixth riddle, which concerns a wolf and a sheep, was

related," said Dietrich, "to Cynewulf;" but Professor Morley considers

that this same riddle "means the overcoming of the Devil by the hand of

God." Stopford Brooke, "Early English Literature," chap. xxii. Many of

those riddles were adapted from the Latin of Aldhelm and others. This

sort of poetry enjoyed great favour, as the Scandinavian "Corpus

Poeticum" also testifies. What is "Men's damager, words' hinderer, and

yet words' arouser?"--"Ale." "Corpus Poeticum," i. p. 87.

[91] "Elene," in "Codex Vercellensis," part ii. p. 73, and "Holy Rood"

(this last of doubtful authorship), _ibid._ pp. 84 ff. Lines resembling

some of the verses in "Holy Rood" have been found engraved in Runic

letters on the cross at Ruthwell, Scotland; the inscription and cross

are reproduced in "Vetusta Monumenta," vol. iv. p. 54; see also G.

Stephens, "The old Northern Runic monuments of Scandinavia and England,"

London, 1866-8, 2 vols. fol., vol. i. pp. 405 ff. Resemblances have also

been pointed out, showing the frequence of such poetical figures, with

the Anglo-Saxon inscription of a reliquary preserved at Brussels: "Rood

is my name, I once bore the rich king, I was wet with dripping blood."

The reliquary contains a piece of the true cross, which is supposed to

speak these words. The date is believed to be about 1100. H. Logeman,

"L'Inscription Anglo-Saxonne du reliquaire de la vraie croix au tresor

de l'eglise des SS. Michel et Gudule," Gand, Paris and London, 1891, 8vo

(with facsimile), pp. 7 and 11.

[92] "Codex Vercellensis," part i. pp. 29, 86 ff. "Andreas" is imitated

from a Greek story of St. Andrew, of which some Latin version was

probably known to the Anglo-Saxon poet. It was called "[Greek: Praxeis

Andreou kai Matthaiou];" a copy of it is preserved in the National

Library, Paris, Greek MS. 881, fol. 348.

[93] "Departed Soul's Address to the Body," "Codex Vercellensis," part

ii. p. 104.

[94] Marlowe's "Dr. Faustus." See also, "Be Domes Daege," a poem on the

terrors of judgment (ed. Lumby, Early English Text Society, 1876).

[95] See examples of such dialogues and speeches in "Andreas", "The Holy

Rood" (in "Cod Vercell"); in Cynewulf's "Christ" ("Cod. Exoniensis"),

&c. In this last poem occurs one of the few examples we have of familiar

dialogue in Anglo Saxon (a dialogue between Mary and Joseph, the tone of

which recalls the Mysteries of a later date); but it seems to be

"derived from an undiscovered hymn arranged for recital by half choirs."

Gollancz, "Christ," Introd., p. xxi. Another example consists in the

scene of the temptation in _Genesis_ (_Cf._ "S. Aviti ... Viennensis

Opera," Paris, 1643 p. 230). See also the prose "Dialogue of Salomon and

Saturnus" (Kemble, AElfric Society, 1848, 8vo), an adaptation of a work

of eastern origin, popular on the Continent, and the fame of which

lasted all through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance; it was well

known to Rabelais: "Qui ne s'adventure n'a cheval ni mule, ce dict

Salomon.--Qui trop s'adventure perd cheval et mule respondit Malcon."

"Vie de Gargantua." Saturnus plays the part of the Malcon or Marcol of

the French version; the Anglo-Saxon text is a didactic treatise, cut

into questions and answers: "Tell me the substance of which Adam the

first man was made.--I tell thee of eight pounds by weight.--Tell me

what they are called.--I tell thee the first was a pound of earth," &c.

(p. 181).

[96] MS. Lat. 8824 in the Paris National Library, Latin and Anglo-Saxon,

some pen-and-ink drawings: "Ce livre est au duc de Berry--Jehan." It has

been published by Thorpe: "Libri Psalmorum, cum paraphrasi

Anglo-Saxonica," London, 1835, 8vo. See also "Eadwine's Canterbury

psalter" (Latin and Anglo-Saxon), ed. F. Harsley, E.E.T.S., 1889 ff.,

8vo.

[97] In "Codex Exoniensis." Series of writings of this kind enjoyed at

an early date a wide popularity; they were called "Physiologi"; there

are some in nearly all the languages of Europe, also in Syriac, Arabic,

Ethiopian, &c. The original seems to have been composed in Greek, at

Alexandria, in the second century of our era (F. Lauchert, "Geschichte

des Physiologus," Strasbourg, 1889, 8vo). To the "Physiologi" succeeded

in the Middle Ages "Bestiaries," works of the same sort, which were also

very numerous and very popular. A number of commonplace sayings or

beliefs, which have survived up to our day (the faithfulness of the

dove, the fatherly love of the pelican), are derived from "Bestiaries."

[98] "Codex Exoniensis," pp. 197 ff. This poem is a paraphrase of a

"Carmen de Phoenice" attributed to Lactantius, filled with conceits in

the worst taste:

Mors illi venus est; sola est in morte voluptas;

Ut possit nasci haec appetit ante mori.

Ipsa sibi proles, suus est pater et suus haeres.

Nutrix ipsa sui, semper alumna sibi;

Ipsa quidem, sed non eadem, quae est ipsa nec ipsa est....

"Incerti auctoris Phoenix, Lactantio tributus," in Migne's

"Patrologia," vol. vii. col. 277.

[99] The most important of which is the famous Strasbourg pledge,

February 19, 842, preserved by the contemporary historian Nithard. See

"Les plus anciens monuments de la langue francaise," by Gaston Paris,

Societe des anciens Textes, 1875, fol.

[100] Thorpe, "Ancient Laws and Institutes of England," London, 1840, 1

vol. fol.; laws of Ina, king of Wessex, 688-726, of Alfred, AEthelstan,

&c. We have also considerable quantities of deeds and charters, some in

Latin and some in Anglo-Saxon. See J. M. Kemble, "Codex Diplomaticus AEvi

Saxonici," English Historical Society, 1839-40, 6 vols. 8vo; De Gray

Birch, "Cartularium Saxonicum, or a Collection of Charters relating to

Anglo-Saxon History," London, 1885 ff. 4to; Earle, "A Handbook to the

Land Charters, and other Saxonic Documents," Oxford, 1888, 8vo.

[101] Translations of scientific treatises such as the "De Natura Rerum"

of Bede, made in the tenth century (Wright's "Popular Treatises on

Science," 1841, 8vo); various treatises published by Cockayne,

"Leechdoms, Wortcunnings and Starcraft ... being a Collection of

Documents ... illustrating the History of Science ... before the Norman

Conquest," 1864, 3 vols. 8vo (Rolls).--Translation of the so-called

"Epistola Alexandri ad Aristotelem" (Cockayne, "Narratiunculae," 1861,

8vo, and "Anglia," vol. iv. p. 139); of the history of "Apollonius of

Tyre" (Thorpe, London, 1834, 12mo).--Translations by King Alfred and his

bishops, see below pp. 81 ff. The monuments of Anglo-Saxon prose have

been collected by Grein, "Bibliothek der Angelsaechsischen Prosa," ed.

Wuelker, Cassel, 1872 ff.

[102] Grueber and Keary, "A Catalogue of English Coins in the British

Museum," Anglo-Saxon series, vol. ii. 1893, 8vo, p. lxxxi.

[103] According to evidence derived from place-names, the Danish

invaders have left their strongest mark in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire,

and after that in "Leicestershire, Rutland, Nottingham, and East

Anglia." Keary, "Vikings in Western Christendom," 1891, p. 353.

[104] Peace of Wedmore, sworn by Alfred and Guthrum the Dane, 878. The

text of the agreement has been preserved and figures among the laws of

Alfred.

[105] H. Sweet, "King Alfred's West-Saxon version of Gregory's Pastoral

Care, with an English translation," London, Early English Text Society,

1871-72, 8vo, pp. 2 ff. Plegmund was an Anglo-Saxon, Asser a Welshman,

Grimbold a Frank, John a Saxon from continental Saxony.

[106] Preface of Gregory's "Pastoral Care."

[107] King Alfred's "Orosius," ed. H. Sweet, Early English Text Society,

1883, 8vo. Orosius was a Spaniard, who wrote at the beginning of the

fifth century.--"The Old English Version of Bede's Ecclesiastical

History of the English People," ed. T. Miller, E.E.T.S., 1890. The

authenticity of this translation is doubtful; see Miller's

introduction.--"King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon Version of Boethius," ed. S.

Fox, London, 1864, 8vo.--"King Alfred's West-Saxon version of Gregory's

Pastoral Care," ed. H. Sweet, E.E.T.S., 1871-2. This last is the most

faithful of Alfred's translations; he attached great importance to the

work, and sent a copy of it to all his bishops. The copy of Werferth,

bishop of Worcester, is preserved in the Bodleian Library.

[108] The sea to the west of Norway, that is the German Ocean.

[109] To-day Helgeland, in the northern part of Norway. Alfred's

"Orosius," Thorpe's translation, printed with the "Life of Alfred the

Great," by Pauli, in Bohn's Antiquarian Library, pp. 249 ff.;

Anglo-Saxon text in Sweet, "King Alfred's Orosius," 1883, p. 17. Alfred

adds the account of yet another journey, undertaken by Wulfstan.

[110] The researches of Usener have placed beyond a doubt that Boethius

was a Christian; but Christianity is scarcely visible in the

"Consolatio," which is entirely "inspiree d'Aristote et de Platon."

Gaston Paris, _Journal des Savants_, 1884, p. 576.

[111] S. Fox, "King Alfred's Boethius," 1864, 8vo, chap. xxxv.

[112] The Anglo-Saxon translation made by Werferth (with a preface by

Alfred) is still unpublished. Earle has given a detailed account of it

in his "Anglo-Saxon Literature," 1884, pp. 193 ff.

[113] These seven Chronicles, more or less complete, and differing more

or less from one another, are the chronicles of Winchester, St.

Augustine of Canterbury, Abingdon, Worcester, Peterborough, the

bilingual chronicle of Canterbury, and the Canterbury edition of the

Winchester chronicle. They begin at various dates, the birth of Christ,

the crossing of Caesar to Britain, &c., and usually come down to the

eleventh century. The Peterborough text alone continues as late as the

year 1154. The Peterborough and Winchester versions are the most

important; both have been published by Plummer and Earle, "Two of the

Saxon Chronicles," Oxford, 1892, 8vo. The seven texts have been printed

by Thorpe, with a translation. "The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," 1861, 2

vols. 8vo (Rolls). The Winchester chronicle contains the poems on the

battle of Brunanburh (_supra_, p. 46), the accession of Edgar, &c.; the

MS. is preserved in the library of Corpus Christi, Cambridge; the

Peterborough MS. is in the Bodleian Library (Laud, 636).

[114] Except in some very rare cases. For example, year 897: "Thanks be

to God, the Army had not utterly broken up the Angle race." Comments are

more frequent in the latter portions of the Chronicles, especially at

the time of and after the Norman invasion.

[115] S. Fox, "King Alfred's Boethius," London, 1864, 8vo, chap. xvii.

p. 61. This chapter corresponds only to the first lines of chap. vii.

book ii. of the original. Most of it is added by Alfred, who gives in it

his opinion of the "craft" of a king, and of the "tools" necessary for

the same.

[116] In the "Proverbs of Alfred," an apocryphal compilation made after

the Norman Conquest; published by Kemble with the "Dialogue of Salomon

and Saturnus," 1848, 8vo.

[117] King from 959 to 975; St. Dunstan, archbishop of Canterbury, died

in 988. See Stubbs, "Memorials of St. Dunstan" (Rolls Series).

[118] The anonymous translation of the Gospels compiled in the time of

Alfred was copied and vulgarised in this period; ed. Skeat, "The Gospels

in Anglo-Saxon," Cambridge, 1871-87, 4 vols. 4to.

[119] See Sermon XI.; "The Blickling Homilies," ed. R. Morris, 1874 ff.

E.E.T.S., 8vo.

[120] "The Sermones Catholici, or Homilies of AElfric," ed. Thorpe,

London, AElfric Society, 1844-6, 2 vols. 8vo; "AElfric's Lives of Saints,

being a set of Sermons," &c., ed. W. W. Skeat, E.E.T.S., 1881 ff. AElfric

translated part of the Bible: "Heptateuchus, Liber Job," &c., ed.

Thwaites, Oxford, 1698, 8vo. He wrote also important works on astronomy

and grammar, a "Colloquium" in Latin and Anglo-Saxon: "AElfric's

Grammatik und Glossar," ed. J. Zupitza, 1880, 8vo, &c.

[121] The homilies of Wulfstan were published by Arthur Napier:

"Wulfstan, Sammlung der ihm zugeschriebenen Homilien nebst

Untersuchungen ueber ihre Echtheit," Berlin, 1883, 8vo (sixty-two pieces,

some of which are very short).

[122] "Transtulimus hunc codicem ex libris latinorum ... ob

aedificationem simplicium ... ideoque nec obscura posuimus verba, sed

simplicem Anglicam, quo facilius possit ad cor pervenire legentium vel

audientium, ad utilitatem animarum suarum quia alia lingua nesciunt

erudiri quam in qua nati sunt. Nec ubique transtulimus verbum ex verbo,

sed sensum ex sensu.... Hos namque auctores in hac explanatione sumus

sequuti, videlicet Augustinum Hipponensem, Hieronimum, Bedam, Gregorium,

Smaragdum et aliquando Haymonem." AElfric's preface for his "Sermones

Catholici." In the preface of his sermons on the lives of Saints, AElfric

states that he intends not to translate any more, "ne forte despectui

habeantur margarite Christi."

[123] "The Blickling Homilies," Sermon XI.

[124] "Sermones Catholici", pp. 12-13.

[125] _Ibid._ pp. 304-5. See also, in the sermon on St. John the

Baptist, a curious satire on wicked talkative women, pp. 476-7.

[126] Sermon for the 25th of August, on the martyrdom of St.

Bartholomew, pp. 454 ff. The portrait of the saint is as minutely drawn:

"he has fair and curling locks, is white of body, and has deep eyes and

moderate nose," &c.

[127] Skeat, "AElfric's Lives of Saints," 1881.

[128] "The Blickling Homilies," Sermons X. and XI.

[129] _Ibid._, Sermon XVII.

BOOK II.

_THE FRENCH INVASION._

CHAPTER I.

_BATTLE._

I.

Germanic England gave itself a king for the last time at the death of

Edward the Confessor. Harold, son of Godwin, was elected to succeed him.

A momentous crisis, the greatest in English history, was drawing near.

An awful problem had to be solved. Divided, helpless, uncertain, England

could no longer remain what she had been for six hundred years. She

stood vacillating, drawn by contrary attractions to opposite centres,

half-way between the North, that had last populated the land, and the

South, that had taught and christianised the nation. On both sides fresh

invaders threaten her; which will be the winner? Should the North

triumph, England will be bound for centuries to the Germanic nations,

whose growth will be tardy, and whose literary development will be slow,

so slow indeed that men still alive to-day may have seen with their own

eyes the great poet of the race, Goethe, who died in 1832. Should the

South carry the day, the growth will be speedy and the preparation

rapid. Like France, Italy, and Spain, England will have at the

Renaissance a complete literature of her own, and be able to produce a

Shakespeare, as Italy produced an Ariosto, Spain a Cervantes, and France

a Montaigne, a Ronsard and a Rabelais.

The problem was solved in the autumn of 1066. On the morrow of Harold's

election, the armies of the North and South assembled, and the last of

the invasions began.

The Scandinavians took the sea again. They were led by Harold Hardrada,

son of Sigurd, a true romance hero, who had fought in many wars, and

once defended by his sword the throne of the eastern emperors.[130] To

the South another fleet collected, commanded by William of Normandy; he,

too, an extraordinary man, bastard of that Robert, known in legend as

Robert the Devil who had long since started on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem

from which he never returned. The Norman of Scandinavia and the Normans

of France were about to play a match of which England was the stake.

The Scandinavians were the first to land. Hardrada entered York, and for

a moment it seemed as if victory would belong to the people of the

North. But Harold of England rushed to meet them, and crushed them at

Stamford-bridge; his brother, the rebel Tosti, fell on the field of

battle, and Hardrada died of an arrow-wound in the throat. All was over

with Scandinavia; there remained the Normans of France.

Who were these Normans? Very different from those of the other army,

they no longer had anything Scandinavian or Germanic about them; and

thus they stood a chance of furnishing the Anglo-Saxons with the graft

they needed. Had it not been for this, their invasion would have carried

no more important result than that of the Danes in the ninth century;

but the consequences were to be very different. The fusion between

Rollo's pirates, and the already dense population of the rich province

called after them Normandy, had been long accomplished. It was less a

fusion than an absorption, for the natives were much more numerous than

the settlers. From the time of the second duke, French had again become

the language of the mass of the inhabitants. They are Christians; they

have French manners, chivalrous tastes, castles, convents, and schools;

and the blood that flows in their veins is mostly French. Thus it is

that they can set forth in the eleventh century for the conquest of

England as representatives of the South, of Latin civilisation, of

Romance letters, and of the religion of Rome. William comes blessed by

the Pope, with a banner borne before him, the gift of Alexander II.,

wearing a hair of St. Peter's in a ring, having secured by a vow the

favour of one of France's patrons, that same St. Martin of Tours, whose

church Clovis had enriched, and whose cape Hugues Capet had worn: whence

his surname.

No Beowulf, no northern hero is sung of in William's army; but there

resound the verses of the most ancient masterpiece of French literature,

at that time the most recent. According to the poet Wace, well informed,

since his father took part in the expedition, the minstrel Taillefer

rode before the soldiers, singing "of Charlemagne, and of Roland, and

Oliver, and the vassals who fell at Roncevaux."[131]

The army, moreover, was not exclusively composed of men from

Normandy.[132] It was divided into three parts; to the left the Bretons

and Poictevins; the Normans in the centre; and to the right the French,

properly so called. No doubt was possible; William's army was a French

army; all contemporary writers describe it as such, and both parties

give it that name. In the "Domesday Book," written by order of William,

his people are termed "Franci"; on the Bayeux tapestry, embroidered soon

after the Conquest, at the place where the battle is represented, the

inscription runs: "Hic Franci pugnant" (Here fight the French). Crowned

king of England, William continues to call his followers

"Frenchmen."[133] The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, on the other side,

describe the invaders sometimes as Normans and sometimes as Frenchmen,

"Frenciscan." "And the French had possession of the place of carnage,"

says the Worcester annalist, after giving an account of the battle of

Hastings; and he bestows the appellation of Normans upon the men of

Harold Hardrada. A similar view is taken farther north. Formerly, we

read in a saga, the same tongue was spoken in England and Norway, but

not after the coming of William of Normandy, "because he was

French."[134]

As to Duke William, he led his army of Frenchmen in French fashion, that

is to say gaily. His state of mind is characterised not by any overflow

of warlike joy or fury, but by good humour. Like the heroes of the

Celtic poems, like the inhabitants of Gaul in all ages, he is prompt at

repartee (_argute loqui_). He stumbles in stepping off the ship, which

is considered by all as a bad omen: "It is a most fatal omen," we read

in an ancient Scandinavian poem, "if thou stumble on thy feet when

marching to battle, for evil fairies stand on either side of thee,

wishing to see thee wounded."[135] It means nothing, said the duke to

his followers, save that I take possession of the land. At the moment of

battle he puts his hauberk on the wrong way: another bad omen. Not at

all, he declares, it is a sign I shall turn out different; "King I shall

be, who duke was":

Le nom qui ert de duchee

Verreiz de due en rei torne;

Reis serai qui duc ai este.[136]

He challenges Harold to single combat, as the Gauls did their

adversaries, according to Diodorus Siculus; and as Francis I. will do

later when at feud with Charles V. He was to die in an expedition

undertaken out of revenge for an epigram of the king of France, and to

make good his retort.

The evening of the 14th of October, 1066, saw the fate of England

decided. The issue of the battle was doubtful. William, by a series of

ingenious ideas, secured the victory. His foes were the victims of his

cleverness; they were "ingenio circumventi, ingenio victi."[137] He

ordered his soldiers to simulate a flight; he made his archers shoot

upwards, so that the arrows falling down among the Saxons wrought great

havoc. One of them put out Harold's eye; the English chief fell by his

standard, and soon after the battle was over, the most memorable ever

won by an army of Frenchmen.

The duke had vowed to erect on the field of the fight an abbey to St.

Martin of Tours. He kept his word, but the building never bore among men

the name of the saint; it received and has retained to this day the

appellation of "Battle." Its ruins, preserved with pious care, overlook

the dales where the host of the Conqueror gathered for the attack. Far

off through the hills, then covered by the yellowing leaves of the

forest of Anderida, glistens, between earth and sky, the grey sea that

brought over the Norman fleet eighteen centuries ago. Heaps of stones,

overgrown with ivy, mark the place where Harold fell, the last king of

English blood who ever sat upon the throne of Great Britain. It is a

secluded spot; large cedars, alders, and a tree with white foliage form

a curtain, and shut off from the outer world the scene of the terrible

tragedy. A solemn silence reigns; nothing is visible through the

branches, save the square tower of the church of Battle, and the only

sound that floats upwards is that of the old clock striking the hours.

Ivy and climbing roses cling to the grey stones and fall in light

clusters along the low walls of the crypt; the roses shed their leaves,

and the soft autumn breeze scatters the white petals on the grass,

amidst fragments to which is attached one of the greatest memories in

the history of humanity.

The consequences of "the Battle" were indeed immense, far more important

than those of Agincourt or Austerlitz: a whole nation was transformed

and became a new one. The vanquished Anglo-Saxons no more knew how to

defend themselves and unite against the French than they had formerly

known how to unite against the Danes. To the momentary enthusiasm that

had gathered around Harold many energetic supporters succeeded a gloomy

dejection. Real life exhibited the same contrasts as literature. Stirred

by sudden impulses, the natives vainly struggled to free themselves,

incapable even in this pressing danger of combined and vigorous action;

then they mournfully submitted to fate. The only contemporary

interpreter of their feelings known to us, the Anglo-Saxon chronicler,

bewails the Conquest, but is more struck by the ravages it occasions

than by the change of domination it brings about. "And Bishop Odo and

Earl William [Fitz-Osbern]," he says, "remained here and wrought castles

widely throughout the nation, and oppressed the poor people, and ever

after that it greatly grew in evil. May the end be good when God will."

So much for the material disaster, now for the coming of the foreigner:

"And then came to meet him Archbishop Ealdred [of York], and Eadgar

child and Earl Eadwine, and Earl Morkere, and all the best men of

London, and then, from necessity, submitted when the greatest harm had

been done, and it was very imprudent that it was not done earlier, as

God would not better it for our sins."[138]

People with a mind so full of elegiac sentiments fall an easy prey to

men who know how to _will_. Before dying William had taken everything,

even a part of Wales; he was king of England, and had so completely

changed the fortunes of his new country that its inhabitants, so used to

invasions, were never again to see rise, from that day to this, the

smoke of an enemy's camp.

II.

From the outset William seems to have desired and foreseen it.

Practical, clear-minded, of firm will, imbued with the notion of State,

he possessed in the highest degree the qualities his new subjects most

lacked. He knew neither doubts nor vain hesitations; he was an optimist,

always sure of success: not with the certitude of the blind who walk

confidently to the river, but with the assurance of clear-sighted

people, who leave the goddess Fortune so little to do, it were a miracle

if she did less for them. His lucid and persistent will is never at

fault. In the most critical moment of the battle a fatal report is

circulated that the duke has been killed; he instantly tears off his

helmet and shows himself with uncovered face, crying: "I am alive! here

I stand, and by God I shall conquer!"[139]

All his life, he conforms his actions to his theories; having come as

the heir of the Anglo-Saxon princes, he behaves as such. He visits his

estate, rectifies its boundaries, protects its approaches, and, in spite

of the immensity of the work, takes a minute inventory of it.[140]

This inventory is the Domesday, a unique monument, such that no nation

in Europe possesses the like. On the coins, he so exactly imitates the

type adopted by his predecessors that it is hard to distinguish the

pennies of William from those of Edward. Before the end of his reign, he

was the master or conqueror of all, and had made his authority felt and

accepted by all, even by his brother Bishop Odo, whom he arrested with

his own hands, and caused to be imprisoned "as Earl of Kent," he said,

with his usual readiness of word, to avoid a quarrel with the Church.

And so it was that, in spite of their terrible sufferings, the

vanquished were unable to repress a certain sentiment which predisposed

them to a fusion with the victor, namely admiration. Never had they seen

energy, power, or knowledge like unto that. The judgment of the

Anglo-Saxon chronicler on William may be considered as being the

judgment of the nation itself concerning its new masters: "That King

William about whom we speak was a very wise man, and very powerful, more

dignified and strong than any of his predecessors were. He was mild to

the good men who loved God, and over all measure severe to the men who

gainsayed his will.... So also was he a very rigid and cruel man, so

that no one durst do anything against his will.... He spared not his own

brother named Odo.... Among other things is not to be forgotten the good

peace that he made in this land, so that a man who had any confidence in

himself might go over his realm with his bosom full of gold unhurt." The

land of the Britons, "Brytland" or Wales, was in his power, Scotland

likewise; he would have had Ireland besides had he reigned two years

longer. It is true he greatly oppressed the people, built castles, and

made terrible game-laws: "As greatly did he love the tall deer as if he

were their father. He also ordained concerning the hares that they

should go free."[141] Even in the manner of presenting grievances we

detect that special kind of popularity which attaches itself to the

tyranny of great men. The England of the Anglo-Saxons had been defeated,

but brilliant destinies were in store for the country; the master was

hated but not despised.

These great destinies were realised. The qualities of which William gave

the example were rare in England, but common in France; they were those

of his race and country, those of his lieutenants; they naturally

reappear in many of his successors. These are, as a rule, energetic and

headstrong men, who never hesitate, who believe in themselves, are

always ready to run all hazards, and to attempt the impossible, with the

firm conviction that they will succeed; they are never weary of fighting

and taking; the moment never comes when they can enjoy their conquests

in peace; in good as in evil they never stop half-way; those who incline

to tyranny become, like Stephen, the most atrocious tyrants[142]; those

who incline to the manners and customs of chivalry carry them, like

Richard Coeur de Lion, as far as possible, and forget that they have a

kingdom to rule. The most intelligent become, like Henry II.,

incomparable statesmen; those who have a taste for art give themselves

up to it with such passion that they jeopardise, like Henry III., even

their crown, and care for nothing but their masons and painters. They

are equally ready for sword and word fights, and they offer both to all

comers. They constantly risk their lives; out of twelve Norman or

Angevin princes six die a violent death.

All their enterprises are conceived on a gigantic scale. They carry war

into Scotland, into Ireland, into Wales, into France, into Gascony,

later on into the Holy Land and into Spain. The Conqueror was on his way

to Paris when he received, by accident, being at Mantes, fifteen leagues

from the capital, a wound of which he died. These qualities are in the

blood. A Frenchman, Henry of Burgundy, seizes on the county of "Porto"

in 1095, out of which his successors make the kingdom of "Portugal"; a

Norman, Robert Guiscard, conquers Sicily, takes Naples, forces his

alliance upon the Pope, overawes Venice, and the same year beats the two

emperors; his son Bohemond establishes himself as reigning prince in

Antioch in 1099, and fighting with great composure and equanimity

against Turk and Christian, establishes out of hand a little kingdom

which lasted two centuries. They find in England miserable churches;

they erect new ones, "of a style unknown till then," writes William of

Malmesbury,[143] which count among the grandest ever built. The splendid

naves of St. Albans, Westminster, Canterbury, Winchester, York,

Salisbury, rise heavenwards; the towers of Ely reach to the skies; the

west front of Lincoln, adorned with marvellous carvings, rears itself on

the hill above the town; Peterborough opens its wide bays, deep as the

portals of French churches; Durham, a heavy and massive pile built by

knight-bishops, overlooks the valley of the Wear, and seems a divine

fortress, a castle erected for God. The donjons of the conquerors,

Rochester, London, Norwich, Lincoln, are enormous, square and thick, so

high and so solid that the idea of taking these giant structures could

never occur to the native dreamers, who wait "till the end shall be good

when God pleases"!

The masters of the land are ever ready for everything, and find time for

everything: if their religious edifices are considered, it seems as

though they had cared for nothing else; if we read the accounts of their

wars, it appears as if they were ever on their way to military

expeditions, and never left the field of battle. Open the innumerable

manuscripts which contain the monuments of their literature: these works

can be meant, it seems, but for men of leisure, who have interminable

days to spend in lengthy pastimes; they make their Benoits de

Sainte-More give them an account of their origins in chronicles of

43,000 lines. This literature is ample, superabundant, with numberless

branches and endless ramifications; they have not even one literature

only; they have three: a French, a Latin, and later an English one.

Their matchless strength and their indomitable will further one

particular cause: the infusion of French and Latin ideas in the

Anglo-Saxon people, and the connection of England with the civilisations

of the South. The task was arduous: Augustine, Alfred, Dunstan, kings

and saints, had attempted it and failed; the Normans tried and

succeeded. They were ever successful.

Powerful means were at their disposal, and they knew how to make the

best of them. Firstly, the chiefs of the nation are French; their wives

are mostly French too: Stephen, Henry II., John, Henry III., Edward I.,

Edward II., Richard II., all marry Frenchwomen. The Bohuns (from whom

came the Herefords, Essexes, Northamptons), the Beauchamps (Warwick),

the Mowbrays (Nottingham, Norfolk), the Bigods (Norfolk), the Nevilles

(Westmoreland, Warwick), the Montgomerys (Shrewsbury, Pembroke,

Arundel), the Beaumonts and the Montforts (Leicester), are Frenchmen.

People of less importance married to English women--"matrimonia quoque

cum subditis jungunt"[144]--rear families which for many years remain

French.

During a long period, the centre of the thoughts and interests of the

kings of England, French by origin, education, manners, and language, is

in France. William the Conqueror bequeaths Normandy to his eldest son,

and England to his younger. Not one of them is buried at Westminster

before 1272; they sleep their last sleep most of them at Caen or

Fontevrault[145]; out of the thirty-five years of his reign, Henry II.

spends more than twenty-one in France, and less than fourteen in

England.[146] Before his accession Richard Coeur-de-Lion only came to

England twice in twenty years. They successively make war on France, not

from hatred or scorn, not because they wish to destroy her, but because

they wish to be kings of France themselves. They admire and wish to

possess her; their ideal, whether moral, literary, administrative, or

religious, is above all a French ideal. They are knights, and introduce

into England the fashion of tournaments, "conflictus gallici," says

Matthew Paris. They wish to have a University, and they copy for Oxford

the regulations of Paris. Henry III. quarrels with his barons, and whom

does he select for an arbiter but his former enemy, Louis IX., king of

France, the victor of Taillebourg? They organise in England a religious

hierarchy, so similar to that of France that the prelates of one country

receive constantly and without difficulty promotion in the other. John

of Poictiers, born in Kent, treasurer of York, becomes bishop of

Poictiers and archbishop of Lyons, while still retaining the living of

Eynesford in Kent; John of Salisbury, secretary of the archbishop of

Canterbury, becomes bishop of Chartres; Ralph de Sarr, born in Thanet,

becomes dean of Reims[147]; others are appointed bishops of Palermo,

Messina, and Syracuse.

Impetuous as are these princes, ready at every instant to run all risks

and play fast and loose, even when, like William I., old and ill, one

precious quality of their temper diminishes the danger of their

rashness. They undertake, as though for a wager, superhuman tasks, but

once undertaken they proceed to the fulfilling of them with a lucid and

practical mind. It is this practical bent of their mind, combined with

their venturesome disposition, that has made of them so remarkable a

race, and enabled them to transform the one over which they had now

extended their rule.

Be the question a question of ideas or a question of facts, they behave

in the same manner. They perceive the importance both of ideas and of

those who wield them, and act accordingly; they negotiate with the Pope,

with St. Martin of Tours, even with God; they promise nothing for

nothing; however exalted the power with which they treat, what they

agree to must be bargains, Norman bargains.

The bull "Laudabiliter," by which the English Pope

Nicholas Breakspeare (Adrian IV.) gives Ireland to Henry II., is a

formal bargain; the king buys, the Pope sells; the price is minutely

discussed beforehand, and set down in the agreement.[148] But the most

remarkable view suggested to them by this practical turn of their mind

consisted in the value they chose to set, even at that distant time, on

"public opinion," if we may use the expression, and on literature as a

means of action.

This was a stroke of genius; William endeavoured, and his successors

imitated him, to do for the past what he was doing for the present: to

unify. For this, the new dynasty wanted the assistance of poets, and it

called upon them. William had persistently given himself out to be not

only the successor, but the rightful heir of Edward the Confessor, and

of the native kings. During several centuries the poets who wrote in the

French tongue, the Latin chroniclers, the English rhymers, as though

obedient to a word of command, blended all the origins together in their

books; French, Danes, Saxons, Britons, Trojans even, according to them,

formed one sole race; all these men had found in England a common

country, and their united glories were the general heritage of

posterity. With a persistency which lasted from century to century, they

displaced the national point of view, and ended by establishing, with

every one's assent, the theory that the constitution and unity of a

nation are a question not of blood but of place; consanguinity matters

little; the important point is to be compatriots. All the inhabitants of

the same country are one people: the Saxons of England and the French of

England are nothing but Englishmen.

All the heroes who shone in the British Isle are now indiscriminately

sung by the poets, who celebrate Brutus, Arthur, Hengist, Horsa, Cnut,

Edward, and William in impartial strains. They venerate in the same

manner all saints of whatever blood who have won heaven by the practice

of virtue on English ground. Here again the king, continuing the wise

policy of his ancestors, sets the example. On Easter Day, 1158, Henry

II. and his wife Alienor of Aquitaine enter the cathedral of Worcester,

wearing their crowns, and present themselves before the tomb of the holy

protector of the town. They remove their crowns, place them on his tomb,

and swear never to wear them again. The saint was not a French one, but

Wulfstan, the last Anglo-Saxon bishop, one who held the see at the time

of the Conquest.[149]

The word of command has been given; the clerks know it. Here is a poem

of the thirteenth century, on Edward the Confessor; it is composed in

the French tongue by a Norman monk of Westminster Abbey, and dedicated

to Alienor of Provence, wife of Henry III. In it we read: "In this world

there is, we dare to say, neither country, nor kingdom, nor empire where

so many good kings and saints have lived as in the isle of the English

... holy martyrs and confessors, many of whom died for God; others were

very strong and brave as Arthur, Edmond, and Cnut."[150]

This is a characteristic example of these new tendencies. The poem is

dedicated to a Frenchwoman by a Norman of England, and begins with the

praise of a Briton, a Saxon, and a Dane.

In the compiling of chronicles, clerks proceed in the same manner, and

this is still more significant, for it clearly proves that the pressing

of literature into the service of political ideas is the result of a

decided will, and of a preconceived plan, and not of chance. The

chroniclers do, indeed, write by command, and by express desire of the

kings their masters. One of them begins his history of England with the

siege of Troy, and relates the adventures of the Trojans and Britons, as

willingly as those of the Saxons or Normans; another writes two separate

books, the first in honour of the Britons, and the second in honour of

the Normans; a third, who goes back to the time when "the world was

established," does not get down to the dukes of Normandy without having

narrated first the story of Antenor the Trojan, an ancestor of the

Normans, as he believes.[151] The origin of the inhabitants of the land

must no longer be sought for under Scandinavian skies, but on Trojan

fields. From the smoking ruins of Pergamus came Francus, father of the

French, and AEneas, father of Brutus and of the Britons of England. Thus

the nations on both sides of the Channel have a common and classic

ancestry. There is Trojan blood in their veins, the blood of Priam and

of the princes who defended Ilion.[152]

From theory, these ideas passed into practice, and thus received a

lasting consecration; another bond of fraternity was established between

the various races living on the soil of Britain: that which results from

the memory of wars fought together. William and his successors do not

distinguish between their subjects. All are English, and they are all

led together to battle against their foes of the Continent. So that this

collection of scattered tribes, on an island which a resolute invader

had formerly found it so easy to conquer, now gains victories in its

turn, and takes an unexpected rank among nations. David Bruce is made

prisoner at Neville's Cross; Charles de Blois at Roche Derien; King John

at Poictiers; Du Guesclin at Navarette. Hastings has made the defeat of

the Armada possible; William of Normandy stamped on the ground, and a

nation came forth.

FOOTNOTES:

[130] The romantic events in the life of Harold Hardrada Sigurdson are

the subject of an Icelandic saga in prose, by Snorre Sturlason (born at

Hvam in Iceland, 1178): "The Heimskringla Saga, or the Sagas of the

Norse kings, from the Icelandic of Snorre Sturlason," ed. Laing and R.

B. Anderson, London, 1889, 4 vols. 8vo, vols. iii. and iv. A detailed

account of the battle at "Stanforda-Bryggiur" (Stamford-bridge), will be

found in chaps. 89 ff.; the battle of "Helsingja port" (Hastings), is

told in chap. 100.

[131]

Taillefer ki mult bien chantout,

Sor un cheval ki tost alout

Devant le duc alout chantant

De Karlemaigne et de Rolant

E d'Oliver et des vassals

Qui morurent en Rencevals.

"Maistre Wace's Roman de Rou," ed. Andresen, Heilbronn, 1877, 2 vols.

8vo, p. 349, a statement reproduced or corroborated by several

chroniclers: "Tunc cantilena Rollandi inochata...." William of

Malmesbury, "Gesta Regum Anglorum," ed. Hardy, London, 1840, English

Historical Society, book iii., p. 415.

[132] William of Poictiers, a Norman by birth (he derived his name from

having studied at Poictiers) and a chaplain of the Conqueror, says that

his army consisted of "Mancels, French, Bretons, Aquitains, and

Normans"; his statement is reproduced by Orderic Vital: "Insisterunt eis

Cenomannici, Franci, Britanni, Aquitani et miserabiliter pereuntes

cadebant Angli." "Historia Ecclesiastica," in Migne, vol. clxxxviii.

col. 298. Vital was born nine years only after the Conquest, and he

spent most of his life among Normans in the monastery of St. Evroult.

[133] Charter of William to the city of London: "Will'm kyng gret ...

ealle tha burhwaru binnan Londone, Frencisce and Englisce, freondlice"

(greets all the burghers within London, French and English). At a later

date, again, Richard Coeur-de-Lion, in a charter for Lincoln, sends

his greetings to his subjects "tam Francis quam Anglis," A.D. 1194.

Stubbs, "Select Charters," Oxford, 1876, pp. 82 and 266.

[134] "Gunnlangs Saga," in "Three northern Love Stories and other

Tales," edited by Erikr Magnusson, and William Morris, London, 1875,

12mo.

[135] "The old play of the Wolsungs," in "Corpus Poeticum Boreale," i.

p. 34.

[136] "Maistre Wace's Roman de Rou," ed. Andresen, line 7749. The same

story is reproduced by William of Malmesbury (twelfth century). "Arma

poposcit, moxque ministrorum tumultu loricam inversam indutus, casum

risu correxit, vertetur, inquiens, fortitudo comitatus mei in regnum."

"Gesta Regum Anglorum," 1840, English Historical Society, book iii. p.

415.

[137] William of Malmesbury, _Ibid._

[138] "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" (Rolls), year 1066, Worcester text (Tib.

B. IV.). Same statement in William of Malmesbury, who says of his

compatriots that "uno praelio et ipso perfacili se patriamque

pessundederint." "Gesta Regum Anglorum," English Historical Society, p.

418.

[139] So says William of Poictiers, and Orderic Vital after him: "...

Nudato insuper capite, detractaque galea exclamans: me inquit

conspicite; vivo et vincam, opitulante Deo." "Orderici Vitalis Angligenae

... Historiae Ecclesiasticae, Libri XIII.," in Migne's "Patrologia," vol.

clxxxviii. col. 297.

[140] The inventory is carried down to details; answers are required to

a number of questions: "... Deinde quomodo vocatur mansio, quis tenuit

eam tempore Regis Eadwardi; quis modo tenet; quot hidae; quot carrucae in

dominio; quot hominum; quot villani; quot cotarii; quot servi; quot

liberi homines; quot sochemani; quantum silvae; quantum prati; quot

pascuorum; quot molendina; quot piscinae," &c., &c. "Domesday for Ely";

Stubbs, "Select Charters," Oxford, 1876, p. 86. The Domesday has been

published in facsimile by the Record Commission: "Domesday Book, or the

great survey of England, of William the Conqueror, 1086," edited by Sir

Henry James, London and Southampton, 1861-3, 2 vols. 4to.

[141] Peterborough text of the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," year 1086.

[142] To the extent that England resembled then Jerusalem besieged by

Titus: "Quid multa? In diebus eis multiplicata sunt mala in terra, ut si

quis ea summatim recenseat, historiam Josephi possint excedere." John of

Salisbury, "Policraticus," book vi chap. xviii.

[143] "Videas ubique in villis ecclesias, in vicis et urbibus

monasteria, novo aedificandi genere consurgere." The buildings of the

Anglo-Saxons, according to the testimony of the same, who may have seen

many as his lived in the twelfth century, were very poor; they were

pleased with "pravis et abjectis domibus." "Gesta Regum Anglorum," ed.

Hardy, 1840, book iii. p. 418.

[144] William of Malmesbury, _ut supra_, p. 420.

[145] The Conqueror was buried at Caen; Henry II. and Richard

Coeur-de-Lion at Fontevrault in Anjou. Henry III. was buried at

Westminster, but his heart was sent to Fontevrault, and the chapter of

Westminster still possesses the deed drawn at the moment when it was

placed in the hands of the Angevin abbess, 20 Ed. I. (exhibited in the

chapter house).

[146] "Henry II.," by Mrs. J. R. Green, 1888, p. 22 ("Twelve English

Statesmen").

[147] Stubbs, "Seventeen Lectures," 1886, p. 131.

[148] After having congratulated the king upon his intention to teach

manners and virtues to a wild race, "indoctis et rudibus populis," the

Pope recalls the famous theory, according to which all islands belonged

of right to the Holy See: "Sane Hiberniam et omnes insulas, quibus sol

justitiae Christus illuxit ... ad jus B. Petri et sacrosanctae Romanae

Ecclesiae (quod tua et nobilitas recognoscit) non est dubium

pertinere...." The items of the bargain are then enumerated:

"Significasti siquidem nobis, fili in Christo charissime, te Hiberniae

insulam, ad subdendum illum populum legibus, et vitiorum plantaria inde

exstirpanda velle intrare, et de singulis domibus annuam unius denarii

B. Petro velle solvere pensionem.... Nos itaque pium et laudabile

desiderium tuum cum favore congruo prosequentes ... gratum et acceptum

habemus ut ... illius terrae populus honorifice te recipiat et sicut

Dominum veneretur." "Adriani papae epistolae et privilegia.--Ad Henricum

II. Angliae regem," in Migne's "Patrologia," vol. clxxxviii. col. 1441.

[149] As little French as could be, for he did not even know the

language of the conquerors, and was on that account near being removed

from his see: "quasi homo idiota, qui linguam gallicam non noverat nec

regiis consiliis interesse poterat." Matthew Paris, "Chronica Majora,"

year 1095.

[150]

En mund ne est, (ben vus l'os dire)

Pais, reaume, ne empire

U tant unt este bons rois

E seinz, cum en isle d'Englois,

Ki apres regne terestre

Or regnent reis en celestre,

Seinz, martirs, e cunfessurs,

Ki pur Deu mururent plursurs;

Li autre, forz e hardiz mutz,

Cum fu Arthurs, Aedmunz e Knudz.

"Lives of Edward the Confessor," ed. H. R. Luard (Rolls), 1858;

beginning of the "Estoire de Seint Aedward le Rei."

[151] These three poets, all of them subjects of the English kings,

lived in the twelfth century; the oldest of the three was Gaimar, who

wrote, between 1147 and 1151 (P. Meyer, "Romania," vol. xviii. p. 314),

his "Estorie des Engles" (ed. Hardy and Martin, Rolls, 1888, 2 vols.,

8vo), and, about 1145, a translation in French verse of the "Historia

Britonum" of Geoffrey of Monmouth (see below, p. 132).--Wace, born at

Jersey (1100?-1175, G. Paris), translated also Geoffrey into French

verse ("Roman de Brut," ed. Leroux de Lincy, Rouen, 1836, 2 vols. 8vo),

and wrote between 1160 and 1174 his "Geste des Normands" or "Roman de

Rou" (ed. Andresen, Heilbronn, 1877, 2 vols. 8vo). He wrote also

metrical lives of saints, &c.--Benoit de Sainte-More, besides his

metrical romances (see below, p. 129), wrote, by command of Henry II., a

great "Chronique des ducs de Normandie" (ed. Francisque Michel,

"Documents inedits," Paris, 1836, 3 vols. 4to).

[152] Even under the Roman empire, nations had been known to attribute

to themselves a Trojan origin. Lucanus states that the men of Auvergne

were conceited enough to consider themselves allied to the Trojan race.

Ammianus Marcellinus, fourth century, states that similar traditions

were current in Gaul in his time: "Aiunt quidam paucos post excidium

Trojae fugientes Graecos ubique dispersos, loca haec occupasse tunc vacua."

"Rerum Gestarum," lib. xv. cap. ix. During the Middle Ages a Roman

ancestry was attributed to the French, the Britons, the Lombards, the

Normans. The history of Brutus, father of the Britons, is in Nennius,

tenth century(?); he says he drew his information from "annalibus

Romanorum" ("Historia Britonum," ed. Stevenson, Historical Society,

London, 1838, p. 7). The English historians after him, up to modern

times, accepted the same legend; it is reproduced by Matthew Paris in

the thirteenth century, by Ralph Higden in the fourteenth, by Holinshed

in Shakesperean times: "This Brutus ... was the sonne of Silvius, the

sonne of Ascanius, the sonne of AEneas the Troian, begotten of his wife

Creusa, and borne in Troie, before the citie was destroied." Chronicles,

1807, 6 vols. fol. book ii. chap. 1. In France at the Renaissance,

Ronsard chose for his hero Francus the Trojan, "because," as he says,

"he had an extreme desire to honour the house of France."

CHAPTER II.

_LITERATURE IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE UNDER THE NORMAN AND ANGEVIN KINGS._

I.

What previous invaders of the island had been unable to accomplish, the

French of William of Normandy were finally to realise. By the rapidity

and thoroughness of their conquest, by securing to themselves the

assistance of those who knew how to use a pen, by their continental

wars, they were to bring about the fusion of all the races in one, and

teach them, whether they intended it or not, what a mother country was.

They taught them something else besides, and the results of the Conquest

were not less remarkable from a literary than from a political point of

view. A new language and new ideas were introduced by them into England,

and a strange phenomenon occurred, one almost unique in history. For

about two or three hundred years, the French language remained

superimposed upon the English; the upper layer slowly infiltrated the

lower, was absorbed, and disappeared in transforming it. But this was

the work of centuries. "And then comes, lo!" writes an English

chronicler more than two hundred years after Hastings, "England into

Normandy's hand; and the Normans could speak no language but their own,

and they spoke French here as they did at home, and taught it to their

children: so that the high men of this land, who are come of their

race, keep all to that speech which they have taken from them." People

of a lower sort, "low men," stick to their English; all those who do not

know French are men of no account. "I ween that in all the world there

is no country that holds not to her own speech, save England

alone."[153]

The diffusion of the French tongue was such that it seemed at one time

as if a disappearance of English were possible. All over the great

island people were found speaking French, and they were always the most

powerful, the strongest, richest, or most knowing in the land, whose

favour it was well to gain, and whose example it was well to imitate.

Men who spoke only English remained all their lives, as Robert of

Gloucester tells us, men of "little," of nothing. In order to become

something the first condition was to learn French. This condition

remained so long a necessary one, it was even impossible to foresee that

it should ever cease to exist; and the wisest, during that period, were

of opinion that only works written in French were assured of longevity.

Gerald de Barry, who had written in Latin, regretted at the end of his

life that he had not employed the French language, "gallicum," which

would have secured to his works, he thought, a greater and more lasting

fame.[154]

Besides the force lent to it by the Conquest, the diffusion of the

French tongue was also facilitated by the marvellous renown it then

enjoyed throughout Europe. Never had it a greater; men of various races

wrote it, and the Italian Brunetto Latini, who used it, gave among other

reasons for so doing, "that this speech is more delightful and more

common to all people."[155] Such being the case, it spread quickly in

England, where it was, for a long time, the language used in laws and

deeds, in the courts of justice, in Parliamentary debates,[156] the

language used by the most refined poets of the period.

And thus it happened that next to authors, French by race and language,

subjects of the kings of England, were found others employing the same

idiom, though of English blood. They strove, to the best of their

possibility, to imitate the style in favour with the rulers of the land,

they wrote chronicles in French, as did, in the twelfth and fourteenth

centuries, Jordan Fantosme[157] and Peter de Langtoft; religious poems,

as Robert of Greteham, Robert Grosseteste, William of Wadington did in

the thirteenth; romances in verse, like those of Hue of Rotelande

(twelfth century); moralised tales in prose, like those of Nicole Bozon;

lyric poems,[158] or _fabliaux_,[159] like those composed by various

anonymous writers; ballads such as those we owe, quite at the end of the

period, in the second half of the fourteenth century, to Chaucer's

friend, John Gower.

At this distance from the Conquest, French still played an important,

though greatly diminished, part; it remained, as will be seen, the

language of the Court; the accounts of the sittings of Parliament

continued to be written in French; a London citizen registered in French

on his note-book all that he knew concerning the history of his

town.[160] As Robert of Gloucester had said, the case was an

unparalleled one. This French literature, the work of Englishmen,

consisted, of course, mainly in imitations of French models, and need

not detain us long; still, its existence must be remembered, for no

other fact shows so well how thorough and powerful the French invasion

had been.

What, then, were the models copied by these imitators, and what the

literature and ideas that, thanks to the Conquest, French-speaking poets

acclimatised in lately-Germanic England? What sort of works pleased the

rulers of the country; what writings were composed for them; what

manuscripts did they order to be copied for their libraries? For it must

not be forgotten, when studying the important problem of the diffusion

of French ideas among men of English race, that it matters little

whether the works most liked in England were composed by French subjects

of the king of France, or by French subjects of the king of England; it

matters little whether these ideas went across the Channel, carried over

by poets, or by manuscripts. What _is_ important is to see and

ascertain that works of a new style, with new aims in them, and

belonging to a new school of art, enjoyed in England a wide popularity

after the Conquest, with the result that deep and lasting

transformations affected the aesthetic ideal and even the way of thinking

of the inhabitants. What, then, were these ideas, and what was this

literature?

II.

This literature little resembled that liked by the late masters of the

country. It was as varied, superabundant, and many-coloured as the other

was grand, monotonous, and melancholy. The writings produced or simply

admired by the conquerors were, like themselves, at once practical and

romantic. They had, together with a multitude of useful works, a number

of charming songs and tales, the authors of which had no aim but to

please.

The useful works are those so-called scientific treatises in which

everything is taught that can be learned, including virtue: "Image du

Monde," "Petite Philosophie," "Lumiere des laiques," "Secret des

Secrets," &c.[161]; or those chronicles which so efficaciously served

the political views of the rulers of the land; or else pious works that

showed men the way to heaven.

The principal historical works are, as has been seen, those rhymed in

the twelfth century by Gaimar, Wace, and Benoit de Sainte-More, lengthy

stories, each being more flowery than its predecessor, and more thickly

studded with digressions of all sorts, and descriptions in all colours,

written in short and clear verse, with bell-like tinklings. The style is

limpid, simple, transparent: it flows like those wide rivers without

dykes, which cover immense spaces with still and shallow water.[162]

In the following century the most remarkable work is the biography in

verse of William le Marechal, earl of Pembroke, one of those knights of

proud mien who still appear to breathe as they lie on their tombs in

Temple Church. This Life is the best of its kind and period; the

anonymous author who wrote it to order has the gift, unknown to his

predecessors, of condensing his subject, of grouping his characters, of

making them move and talk. As in the Temple Church, on the monument he

erects to them, they seem to be living.[163]

Another century passes, the fashion of writing history in French verse

still subsists, but will soon die out. Peter de Langtoft, a true

Englishman as his language sufficiently proves, yet versifies in French,

in the fourteenth century, a history of England from the creation of the

world to the death of Edward I. But the times are changing, and Peter,

last representative of an art that is over,[164] is a contemporary of

that other Englishman, Robert of Gloucester, first representative of an

art that begins, a distant ancestor of Gibbon and Macaulay. In sedate

and manly, but somewhat monotonous strains, Robert tells in his turn the

history of his country; differing in this respect from the others, he

uses the English tongue; he is by no means cosmopolitan, but only and

solely English. In the very first lines he makes this characteristic

declaration: "England is a very good land; I ween the best of any....

The sea goes all about it; it stands as in an isle; it has the less to

fear from foes.... Plenty of all goods may be found in England."[165]

The way to heaven is taught, after the Conquest, in innumerable French

works, in verse and prose, paraphrases of the psalms and gospels, lives

of the saints, manuals of penitence, miracles of Our Lady, moralised

tales, bestiaries, and sermons.[166] The number of the French-speaking

population had so increased in the kingdom that it was not absurd to

preach in French, and some of the clergy inclined all the more willingly

to so doing that many of the higher prelates in the land were Frenchmen.

"To the simple folk," says, in French, an Anglo-Norman preacher, "have I

simply made a simple sermon. I did not make it for the learned, as they

have enough writings and discourses. For these young people who are not

scholars I made it in the Romance tongue, for better will they

understand the language they have been accustomed to since childhood."

A la simple gent

Ai fait simplement

Un simple sarmun.

Nel fis as letrez

Car il unt assez

Escriz e raisun.

Por icels enfanz

Le fis en romanz

Qui ne sunt letre

Car miel entendrunt

La langue dunt sunt

Des enfance use.[167]

Religious works, as well as the chronicles, are mainly written in a

clear, thin, transparent style; neither sight nor thought is absorbed by

them; the world can be seen through the light religious veil; the

reader's attention wanders. In truth, the real religious poems we owe to

the Normans are those poems in stone, erected by their architects at

Ely, Canterbury, York, and Durham.

Much more conspicuous was the literature of the imagination composed for

them, a radiant literature made of numberless romaunts, songs, and

love-tales. They had no taste for the doleful tunes of the Anglo-Saxon

poet; his sadness was repellent to them, his despairs they abhorred;

they turned the page and shut the book with great alacrity. They were

happy men; everything went well with them; they wanted a literature

meant for happy men.

III.

First of all they have epic tales; but how different from "Beowulf"! The

Song of Roland, sung at Hastings, which was then the national song of

the Normans as well as of all Frenchmen, is the most warlike poem in the

literature of mediaeval France, the one that best recalls the Germanic

origins of the race; yet a wide interval already separates these origins

from the new nation; the change is striking.[168] Massacres, it is true,

still occupy the principal place, and a scent of blood pervades the

entire poem; hauberks torn open, bodies hewn in two, brains scattered on

the grass, the steam rising from the battle, fill the poet's heart with

rapture, and his soul is roused to enthusiasm. But a place is also kept

for tender sentiments, and another for winged speeches. Woman is not yet

the object of this tenderness; Charlemagne's peers do not remember Aude

while they fight; they expire without giving her a sigh. But their eyes

are dim with tears at the recollection of fair France; they weep to see

their companions lie prostrate on the grass; the real mistress of

Roland, the one to whom his last thought reverts, is not Aude but

Durandal, his sword. This is his love, the friend of his life, whose

fate, after he shall be no more, preoccupies him. Just as this sword has

a name, it has a life of its own; Roland wishes it to die with him; he

would like to kill it, as a lover kills his mistress to prevent her

falling into the hands of miscreants. "The steel grates, but neither

breaks nor notches. And the earl cries: Holy Mary, help me!... Ah!

Durandal, so dearly beloved, how white and clear thou art! how thou

shinest and flashest in the sunlight.... Ah! Durandal, fair and holy art

thou!"[169] In truth, this is his love. Little, however, does it matter

to ascertain with what or whom Roland is in love; the thing to be

remembered is that he has a heart which can be touched and moved, and

can indeed feel, suffer, and love.

At Roncevaux, as well as at Hastings, French readiness of wit appears

even in the middle of the battle. Archbishop Turpin, so imposing when he

bestows the last benediction on the row of corpses, keeps all through

the fight a good-humour similar to that of the Conqueror. "This Saracen

seems to me something of a heretic,"[170] he says, espying an enemy; and

he fells him to earth. Oliver, too, in a passage which shows that if

woman has no active part assigned to her in the poem she had begun to

play an important one in real life, slays the caliph and says: Thou at

least shalt not go boasting of our defeat, "either to thy wife or to any

lady in thy land."[171]

It will finally be noticed that the subject of this epic, the oldest in

France, is a defeat, thus showing, even in that far-distant age, what

the heroic ideal of the nation was to be, that is, not so much to

triumph as to die well. She will never lay down her arms merely because

she is beaten; she will only lay them down when enough of her sons have

perished. Even when victory becomes impossible, the nation, however

resigned to the inevitable, still fights for honour. Such as we see her

in the Song of Roland, such she appears in Froissart, and such she has

ever shown herself: "For never was the realm of France so broken, but

that some one to fight against could be found there."[172]

The conquerors of England are complete men; they are not only valiant,

they are learned; they not only take interest in the immediate past of

their own race; they are also interested in the distant past of other

civilised nations; they make their poets tell them of the heroes of

Greece and Rome, and immense metrical works are devoted to these

personages, which will beguile the time and drive ennui away from

castle-halls. These poems form a whole cycle; Alexander is the centre of

it, as Charlemagne is of the cycle of France, and Arthur of the cycle of

Britain.

The poets who write about these famous warriors endeavour to satisfy at

once the contradictory tastes of their patrons for marvels and for

truth. Their works are a collection of attested prodigies. They are

unanimous in putting aside Homer's story, which does not contain enough

miracles to please them, and, being in consequence little disposed to

leniency, they reject the whole of it as apocryphal. I confess, says one

of them, that Homer was a "marvellous clerk," but his tales must not be

believed: "For well we know, past any doubt, that he was born more than

a hundred years after the great host was gathered together."[173]

But the worst forger of Alexandria obtains the confidence of our poets;

they read with admiration in old manuscripts a journal of the siege of

Troy, and the old manuscripts declare the author of this valuable

document to be Dares the Phrygian. The work has its counterpart executed

in the Grecian camp by Dictys of Crete. No doubt crosses their mind;

here is authenticity and truth, here are documents to be trusted; and

how interesting they are, how curious! the very journal of an

eye-witness; truth and wonder made into one.

For Alexander they have a no less precious text: the

Pseudo-Callisthenes, composed in Greek at Alexandria, of which a Latin

version of the fourth century still exists. They are all the better

disposed towards it that it is a long tissue of marvels and fabulous

adventures.[174] For the history of Thebes they are obliged to content

themselves with Statius, and for that of Rome with Virgil, that same

Virgil who became by degrees, in mediaeval legends, an enchanter, the

Merlin of the cycle of Rome. He had, they believed, some weird

connection with the powers of darkness; for he had visited them and

described in his "AEneid" their place of abode: no one was surprised at

seeing Dante take him for a guide.

What these poets wished for was a certificate of authenticity at

starting. Once they had it, they took no further trouble; it was their

passport; and with a well-worded passport one can go a long way. After

having blamed Homer and appealed to Dares, they felt themselves above

suspicion, laid hands on all they could, and invented in their turn.

Here is, for example, an episode in the romance of Alexander, a story of

maidens in a forest, who sink underground in winter and reappear in

spring in the shape of flowers: it will be vainly sought for in

Callisthenes; it is of Eastern origin, and is found in Edrisi. For want

of better, and to avoid the trouble of naming names, the authors will

sometimes refer their public to "Latin books," and such was the renown

of Rome that the reader asked nothing more.

No need to add that manners and dresses were scarcely better observed

than probability. Everything in these poems was really _translated_; not

only the language of the ancients, but their raiment, their

civilisation, their ideas. Venus becomes a princess; the heroes are

knights, and their costumes are so much in the fashion of the day that

they serve us to date the poems. The miniatures conform to the tale;

tonsured monks bear Achilles to the grave; they carry tapers in their

hands. Queen Penthesilea, "doughty and bold, and beautiful and

virtuous," rides astride, her heels armed with huge red spurs.[175]

Oedipus is dubbed a knight; AEneas takes counsel of his "barons." This

manner of representing antiquity lasted till the Renaissance; and till

much later, on the stage. Under Louis XIV., Augustus wore a perruque

"in-folio"; and in the last century Mrs. Hartley played Cleopatra in

_paniers_ on the English stage.

In accordance with these ideas were written in French, for the benefit

of the conquerors of England, such tales as the immense "Roman de

Troie," by Benoit de Sainte-More, in which is related, for the first

time in any modern language, the story of Troilus and Cressida; the

"Roman de Thebes," written about 1150; that of "Eneas," composed during

the same period; the History of Alexander, or the "Roman de toute

Chevalerie," a vast compilation, one of the longest and dullest that be,

written in the beginning of the thirteenth century by Eustace or Thomas

of Kent; the Romance of "Ipomedon," and the Romance of "Prothesilaus,"

by Hue of Rotelande, composed before 1191; and many others besides[176]:

all romances destined to people of leisure, delighting in long

descriptions, in prodigious adventures, in enchantments, in

transformations, in marvels. Alexander converses with trees who foretell

the future to him; he drinks from the fountain of youth; he gets into a

glass barrel lighted by lamps, and is let down to the bottom of the sea,

where he watches the gambols of marine monsters; his army is attacked by

wild beasts unaffrighted by flames, that squat in the midst of the fires

intended to scare them away. He places the corpse of the admiral who

commanded at Babylon in an iron coffin, that four loadstones hold to the

vault. The authors give their imagination full scope; their romances are

operas; at every page we behold a marvel and a change of scene; here we

have the clouds of heaven, there the depths of the sea. I write of these

more than I believe, "equidem plura transcribo quam credo," Quintus

Curtius had already said.[177]

Just as they had curiously inspected their new domains, appropriating to

themselves as much land as possible, so the conquerors inspected the

literatures of their new compatriots. If, as will be seen, they drew

little from the Saxon, it is not because they were absolutely ignorant

of it, but because they never could well understand its genius. Amongst

the different races with which they now found themselves in contact,

they were at once attracted by intellectual sympathy to the Celtic,

whose mind resembled their own. Alexander had been an amusement, Arthur

became a passion. To the Anglo-Norman singers are due the most ancient

and beautiful poems of the Briton cycle that have come down to us.

In the "matter" of France, the heroic valour of the defenders of the

country forms the principal interest of the stories; in the matter of

Rome, the "mirabilia"; and, in the matter of Britain, love. We are

farther and farther removed from Beowulf.

At the time of the Conquest a quantity of legends and tales were current

concerning the Celtic heroes of Britain, some of whom were quite

independent of Arthur; nevertheless all ended by being grouped about

him, for he was the natural centre of all this literature: "The Welsh

have never ceased to rave about him up to our day," wrote the grave

William of Malmesbury in the century after the Conquest; he was a true

hero, and deserved something better than the "vain fancies of dreamers."

William obviously was not under the spell of Arthurian legends.[178]

Wales, Brittany, and Cornwall were the centres where these legends had

developed; the Briton harpists had, by the beauty of their tales, and

the sweetness of their music, early acquired a great reputation. It was

a recommendation for a minstrel to be able to state that he was a

Briton, and some usurped this title, as does Renard the fox, in the

"Roman de Renart."[179]

One thing, however, was lacking for a time to the complete success of

the Arthurian epic: the stamp of authenticity, the Latin starting-point.

An Anglo-Norman clerk furnished it, and bestowed upon this literature

the Dares it needed. Professional historians were silent, or nearly so,

respecting Arthur; Gildas, in the sixth century, never mentions him;

Nennius, in the tenth, only devotes a few lines to him.[180] Geoffrey of

Monmouth makes up for this deficiency.[181]

His predecessors knew nothing, he knows everything; his British

genealogies are precise, his narratives are detailed, his enumerations

complete. The mist had lifted, and the series of these kings about whom

so many charming legends were afloat now appeared as clear as the

succession of the Roman emperors. In their turn they present themselves

with the authority conferred at that time in the world by great Latin

books. They ceased to be the unacknowledged children of anybody's fancy;

they had to own them, not some stray minstrel, but a personage of

importance, known to the king of the land, who was to become bishop of

St. Asaph, and be a witness at the peace of 1153, between Stephen of

Blois and the future Henry II. In 1139, the "Historia Regum Britanniae"

had appeared, and copies began to circulate. Henry of Huntingdon,

passing at the Abbey of Bec, in Normandy, in the month of January of

that year, finds one, and is filled with astonishment. "Never," writes

he to one of his friends, "had I been able to obtain any information,

oral or written, on the kings from Brutus to Caesar.... But to my

amazement I have just discovered--stupens inveni--a narrative of these

times."[182] It was Geoffrey's book.

The better to establish his authority, Geoffrey himself had been careful

to appeal to a mysterious source, a certain book of which no trace has

ever been found, and which he pretends was given him by his friend

Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford. Armed with this proof of authenticity,

which no one could contest, he ends his history by a half-serious,

half-joking challenge to the professional chroniclers of his time. "I

forbid William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon to speak of the

British kings, seeing that they have never had in their hands the book

Walter, Archdeacon of Oxford, brought me from Brittany." Cervantes never

spoke with more gravity of Cid Hamet-ben-Engeli.

Such a book could not fail of success; it had a prodigious fame. Some

historians lodged protests; they might as well have protested against

Dares. Gerald de Barry cried out it was an imposture; and William of

Newbury inveighed against the impudence of "a writer called Geoffrey,"

who had made "Arthur's little finger bigger than Alexander's back."[183]

In vain; copies of the "Historia Regum" multiplied to such an extent

that the British Museum alone now possesses thirty-four of them. The

appointed chronicler of the Angevin kings, Wace, translated it into

French about 1155, with the addition of several legends omitted by

Geoffrey, that of the Round Table among others.[184] It was turned into

Latin verse, into French alexandrines, into Welsh prose; no honour was

denied it. From this time dates the literary fortune of Arthur, Merlin,

Morgan the fairy, Percival, Tristan and Iseult, Lancelot and Guinevere,

whose deeds and loves have been sung from century to century, down to

the day of Shakespeare, of Swinburne, and Tennyson.

The finest poems the Middle Ages devoted to them were written on English

ground, and especially the most charming of all, dedicated to that

Tristan,[185] whom Dante places by Helen of Troy in the group of

lovers: "I beheld Helen, who caused such years of woe, and I saw great

Achilles ... Paris and Tristan."[186]

Tristan's youth was spent in a castle of Leonois, by the sea. One day a

Norwegian vessel, laden with stuffs and with hunting-birds, brings to

before the walls. Tristan comes to buy falcons; he lingers to play chess

with the merchants; the anchor is weighed, and Tristan is borne off in

the ship. A storm drives the vessel on the coast of Cornwall, and the

youth is conducted before King Marc. Harpers were playing; Tristan

remembers Briton lays; he takes the harp, and so sweet is his music that

"many a courtier remains there, forgetting his very name."[187] Marc

(who turns out to be his uncle) takes a fancy to him, and dubs him

knight. "Should any one," says the author of one of the versions of

Tristan, "inquire of me concerning the dress of the knights, I will tell

him in a few words; it was composed of four stuffs: courage, richness,

skill, and courtesy."

Morolt, the giant, comes to claim a tribute of sixty youths and maidens,

in the name of the king of Ireland. They were proceeding to select

these victims, when Tristan challenges the giant and kills him; but he

is wounded by a poisoned weapon, and, day by day, death draws nearer. No

one can cure this poison except the queen of Ireland, sister of the dead

man. Tristan, disguised as a poor harper, has himself put on a bark and

arrives in Dublin, where the queen heals him. The queen had a daughter,

Iseult, with fair hair; she begs the harper to instruct the young girl.

Iseult becomes perfect: "She can both read and write, she composes

epistles and songs; above all, she knows many [Briton] lays. She is

sought after for her musical talent, no less than for her beauty, a

silent and still sweeter music that through the eyes insinuated itself

into the heart." All her life she remembered the teaching of Tristan,

and in her sorrows had recourse to the consoling power of music. When

sitting alone and sad, she would sing "a touching song of love," on the

misfortunes of Guiron, killed for the sake of his lady. This lay "she

sings sweetly, the voice accords with the harp, the hands are beautiful,

the lay is fine, sweet the voice and low the tone."[188]

Tristan's task being accomplished, he returns to Cornwall. One day a

swallow drops at the feet of King Marc a golden hair, so soft and

brilliant, so lovable, that the king swears to marry no other woman but

her of the golden hair.[189] Tristan starts in quest of the woman. The

woman is Iseult; he brings her to Cornwall. While at sea the two young

people swallow by mistake an enchanted draught, a "boivre" destined for

Marc and his betrothed, which had the virtue of producing a passion that

only death could end. The poison slowly takes effect; their sentiments

alter. "All that I know troubles me, and all I see pains me," says

Iseult. "The sky, the sea, my own self oppresses me. She bent forward,

and leant her arm on Tristan's shoulder: it was her first caress. Her

eyes filled with repressed tears; her bosom heaved, her lips quivered,

and her head remained bent."

The marriage takes place. Marc adores the queen, but she thinks only of

Tristan. Marc is warned, and exiles Tristan, who, in the course of his

adventures, receives a present of a wonderful dog. This dog wore a bell

on his neck, the sound of which, so sweet it was, caused all sorrow to

be forgotten. He sends the dog to Iseult, who, listening to the bell,

finds that her grief fades from her memory; and she removes the collar,

unwilling to hear and to forget.

Iseult is at last repudiated, and Tristan bears her off by lonely paths,

through forest depths, until they reach a grotto of green marble carved

by giants in ages past. An aperture at the top let in the light, lindens

shaded the entrance, a rill trickled over the grass, flowers scented the

air, birds sang in the branches. Here nothing more existed for them save

love. "Nor till the might of August"--thought the old poet, and said a

more recent one--

Nor till the might of August overhead

Weighed on the world, was yet one roseleaf shed

Of all their joys warm coronal, nor aught

Touched them in passing ever with a thought

That ever this might end on any day,

Or any night not love them where they lay;

But like a babbling tale of barren breath

Seemed all report and rumour held of death,

And a false bruit the legend tear impearled

That such a thing as change was in the world.[190]

King Marc's hunt passes by the grotto; through an opening at the top he

chances to perceive her who had been "the springtide of his life, fairer

than ever at this moment ... her mouth, her brow, every feature was so

full of charm that Marc was fascinated, and, seized with longing, would

fain on that face have pressed a kiss.... A wreath of clover was woven

in her unbound locks.... When he saw that the sun overhead let fall

through the crevice a ray of light on Iseult's face, he feared lest her

hue should suffer. He took grass and flowers and foliage with which he

closed the aperture, then blessing the lady, he commended her to God,

and departed weeping."[191]

Once more the lovers are separated, this time for ever. Years pass;

Tristan has made himself famous by his exploits. He is without news of

his love, doubtless forgotten. He marries another Iseult, and lives with

her near Penmarch in Brittany. Wounded to death in a fight, he might be

cured by the queen of Cornwall, and in spite of his marriage, and the

time that has elapsed, he sends her word to leave all and join him. If

Iseult comes, the ship is to have a white sail; if she refuses, a black

one. Iseult still loves. At the first word she puts to sea; but storms

arise, then follows a dead calm; Tristan feels life ebb from him with

hope. At last the vessel appears, and Tristan's wife sees it from the

shore with its white sail. She had overheard Tristan's message; she

returns, lies, and announces the arrival of a black sail. Tristan tears

the bandage from his wound and dies. When the true Iseult lands, the

knell is tolling from the steeples of Brittany; she rushes in, finds

her lover's corpse already cold, and expires beside him. They were

buried in the same church at Carhaix, one at each end; out of one of the

tombs grew a vine, and out of the other grew a rose, and the branches,

creeping along the pillars, interlaced under the vaulted roof. The magic

draught thus proved stronger than death.

In the ancient epic poems, love was nothing, here it is everything; and

woman, who had no part, now plays the first; warlike feats are

henceforth only a means to win her heart. Grass has grown over the

bloody vale of Roncevaux, which is now enamelled with flowers; Roland's

love, Durandal, has ascended to heaven, and will return no more. The new

poets are the exact antithesis of the former ones. Religion, virtue,

country, now count for nothing; love defies, nay more, replaces them.

Marc's friends, who warn him, are traitors and felons, vowed to scorn

and hate, as were formerly Gannelons, who betrayed fair France. To be in

love is to be worthy of heaven, is to be a saint, and to practise

virtue. This theory, put forward in the twelfth century by the singers

of the British cycle, has survived, and will be found again in the

"Astree," in Byron, and in Musset.

These tales multiply, and their worldly, courteous, amorous character

becomes more and more predominant. Woman already plays the part that she

plays in the novels of yesterday. A glance opens Paradise to Arthur's

knights; they find in a smile all the magic which it pleases us, the

living of to-day, to discover there. A trite word of farewell from the

woman they cherish is transformed by their imagination, and they keep it

in their hearts as a talisman. Who has not cherished similar talismans?

Lancelot recalls the past to queen Guinevere: "And you said, God be with

you, fair, gentle friend! Never since have these words left my heart. It

is these words that shall make me a _preux_, if ever I am one; for

never since was I in such great peril but that I remembered these words.

They have comforted me in all my sorrows; these words have kept and

guarded me from all danger; these words have fed me when hungry and made

me wealthy when poor."

"By my troth," said the queen, "those words were happily spoken, and

blessed be God who caused me to speak them. But I did not put into them

as much as you saw, and to many a knight have I spoken the same without

thinking of more than what they plainly bear."[192]

After being a saint, the beloved object becomes a goddess; her wishes

are decrees, her mysterious caprices are laws which must not even be

questioned; harder rules of love are from year to year imposed on the

heroes; they are expected to turn pale at the sight of their mistress;

Lancelot espying a hair of Guinevere well-nigh faints; they observe the

thirty-one regulations laid down by Andre le Chapelain, to guide the

perfect lover.[193] After having been first an accessory, then an

irresistible passion, love, that the poets think to magnify, will soon

be nothing but a ceremonial. From the time of Lancelot we border on

folly; military honour no longer counts for the hero; Guinevere out of

caprice orders Lancelot to behave "his worst"; without hesitating or

comprehending he obeys, and covers himself with shame. Each successive

romance writer goes a step farther, and makes new additions; we come to

immense compositions, to strings of adventures without any visible link;

to heroes so uniformly wonderful that they cease to inspire any interest

whatever. Tristan's rose-bush twined itself around the pillars, the

pillars are lacking now, and the clusters of flowers trail on the

ground. Tristan was a harbinger of Musset; Guinevere gives us a desire

for a Cervantes.

Meanwhile, the minstrels of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries enjoy

their success and their fame; their number increases; they are welcomed

in the castles, hearkened to in the towns; their tales are copied in

manuscripts, more and more magnificently painted. They celebrate, in

England as in France, Gauvain, "le chevalier aux demoiselles," Ivain,

"le chevalier au lion"; Merlin, Joseph of Arimathea, Percival and the

quest of the mysterious Graal, and all the rest of the Round Table

heroes.[194]

IV.

They have also shorter narratives in prose and verse, the subject of

which is generally love, drawn from French, Latin, Greek, and even

Hindu legends,[195] stories like those of Amis and Amile, of Floire and

Blanchefleur, lays like those of Marie de France.[196] Marie was Norman,

and lived in the time of Henry II., to whom she dedicated her poems.

They are mostly graceful love-tales, sweetly told, without affectation

or effort, and derived from Celtic originals, some being of Armorican

and some of Welsh descent. Several are devoted to Tristan and other

Arthurian knights. In the lay of the Ash, Marie tells a story of female

virtue, the main incidents of which will be found again later in the

tale of Griselda. Her lay of the Two Lovers would have delighted Musset:

"Truth is that in Neustria, which we call Normandy," lived once a

nobleman who had a beautiful daughter; every one asked her in marriage,

but he always refused, so as not to part from her. At last he declared

he would give his daughter to the man who could carry her to the top of

the mountain. All tried, but all failed.

A young count falls in love with her, and is loved again. She sends him

to an old aunt of hers, who lives at Salerno, and will give him certain

potions to increase his strength. He does all she bids him. On the day

appointed, provided with a draught to swallow during the trial, he takes

the fair maiden in his arms. She had fasted for many days so as to weigh

less, and had put on an exceedingly light garment: "Except her shift, no

other stuff she wore";

N'ot drap vestu fors la chemise.

He climbs half-way, then begins to flag; but he wishes to owe everything

to his energy, and, without drinking, slowly continues to ascend. He

reaches the top and falls dead. The young girl flings away the now

useless flask, which breaks; and since then the mountain herbs moistened

by the potion have wonderful healing powers. She looks at her lover and

dies, like the Simonne of Boccaccio and of Musset. They were buried on

the mountain, where has since been built "the priory of the Two Lovers."

The rulers of England delight in still shorter poems, but again on the

same subject: love. Like the rest of the French, they have an innate

fondness for a kind of literature unknown to their new compatriots:

namely, _chansons_. They composed a great number of them, and listened

to many more of all sorts. The subjects of the kings of England became

familiar with every variety of the kind; for the Angevin princes now

possessed such wide domains that the sources of French poetry, poetry of

the North, poetry of the South, lyrical poetry of Poictou and of Maine,

gushed forth in the very heart of their empire.[197]

Their English subjects got acquainted with these poems in two ways:

firstly, because many of those songs were sung in the island; secondly,

because many Englishmen, soldiers, clerks, minstrels, messengers,

followed the king and stayed with him in the parts where the main wells

and fountains of the French _chanson_ happened to be.[198] They became

thus familiarised with the "reverdies," May songs, which celebrate

springtime, flowers, and free loves; "carols," or dancing songs;

"pastourelles," the wise or foolish heroines of which are shepherdesses;

"disputoisons" or debates, to which kind belongs the well-known song of

"transformations" introduced by Mistral in his "Mireio," and set to

music by Gounod; "aube" songs, telling the complaint of lovers, parted

by dawn, and in which, long before Shakespeare, the Juliets of the time

of Henry II. said to their Romeos:

It is not yet near day;

It was the nightingale and not the lark.

Il n'est mie jors, saverouze au cors gent,

Si m'ait amors, l'aloete nos ment.[199]

"It is not yet near day, my sweet one; love be my help, the lark lies."

In these songs, the women are slight and lithe; they are more gentle

than doves; their faces are all pink and white: "If the flowers of the

hawthorn were united to the rose, not more delicate would be their

colour than that on my lady's clear face."

Si les flurs d[el] albespine

Fuissent a roses assis,

N'en ferunt colur plus fine

Ke n'ad ma dame au cler vis.[200]

With these songs, Love ventures out of castles; we find him "in cellars,

or in lofts under the hay."[201] He steals even into churches, and a

sermon that has come down to us, preached in England in the thirteenth

century, has for text, instead of a verse of Scripture, a verse of a

French song: "Fair Alice rose at morn, clothed and adorned her body; an

orchard she went in, five flowers there she found, a wreath she made

with them of blooming roses; for God's sake, get you gone, you who do

not love!" and with meek gravity the preacher goes on: Belle Alice is or

might be the Virgin Mary; "what are those flowers," if not "faith, hope,

charity, virginity, humility?"[202] The idea of turning worldly songs

and music to religious ends is not, as we see, one of yesterday.

Tristan has led us very far from Beowulf, and fair Alice leads us still

farther from the mariner and exile of Anglo-Saxon literature. To sum up

in a word which will show the difference between the first and second

period: on the lips of the conquerors of Hastings, odes have become

_chansons_.

V.

Nothing comes so near ridicule as extreme sentiments, and no men had the

sense of the ridiculous to a higher degree than the new rulers of the

English country. At the same time with their chivalrous literature, they

had a mocking one. They did not wait for Cervantes to begin laughing;

these variable and many-sided beings sneered at high-flown sentiments

and experienced them too. They sang the Song of Roland, and read with

delight a romance in which the great emperor is represented strutting

about before his barons, his crown on his head and his sword in his

hand, asking the queen if he is not the most admirable prince in the

world.[203] To his surprise, the queen says no, there is a better, there

is King Hugon, emperor of Greece and of Constantinople. Charlemagne

wishes to verify on the spot, and pledges his word that he will cut the

queen's head off if she has not spoken truth. He mounts a donkey; the

twelve peers follow his example, and in this fashion the flower of

French chivalry takes its way to the East.

At Constantinople, the city of marvels, which had not yet become the

city of mosques, but was still enriched by the spoils of Athens and

Rome, where St. Sophia shone with all the glory of its mosaics intact,

where the palace of the emperors dazzled the sight with its gold and its

statues, the French princes could scarcely believe their eyes. At every

step they were startled by some fresh wonder; here bronze children

blowing horns; there a revolving hall set in motion by the sea-breeze;

elsewhere a carbuncle which illuminated apartments at night. The queen

might possibly have spoken truth. Evening draws on, they drink deep,

and, excited by their potations, indulge in _gabs_, or boasts, that are

overheard by a spy, and carefully noted. Ogier the Dane will uproot the

pillar which supports the whole palace; Aimer will make himself

invisible and knock the emperor's head on the table; Roland will sound

his horn so loudly that the gates of the town will be forced open.

Threatened and insulted by his guests, Hugon declares they shall either

accomplish their _gabs_ or pay for their lies with their heads.

This is too much, and the author changes his tone. Will God permit the

confusion of the emperor of the Franks, however well deserved it be?

"Vivat qui Francos diligit Christus!" was already written in the Salic

law: Christ continues to love the Franks. He takes their cause into His

own hands, not because of their deserts but because they are Franks. By

a miracle, one after another, the _gabs_ are realised; Hugon

acknowledges the superiority of Charles, who returns to France, enriches

St. Denis with incomparable relics, and forgives the queen. This poem is

exactly contemporaneous with the Song of Roland.

But there is better still, and the comedy is much more general in the

famous "Roman de Renart."[204] This romance, of which the branches are

of various epochs and by various authors, was composed partly in the

continental estates of the kings of England, partly in the France of

French kings. It was built up, part after part, during several

centuries, beginning with the twelfth: built like a cathedral, each

author adding a wing, a tower, a belfry, a steeple; without caring, most

of the time, to make known his name; so that the poem has come down to

us, like the poems in stone of the architects, almost anonymously, the

work of every one, an expression and outcome of the popular mind.

For many Frenchmen of ancient France, a _chanson_ was a sufficient

revenge, or at least served as a temporary one. So much pleasure was

taken in it, that by such means the tyranny of the ruler was forgotten.

On more than one occasion where in other countries a riot would have

been unavoidable, in France a song has sufficed; discontent, thus

attenuated, no longer rose to fury. More than one jacquerie has been

delayed, if not averted, by the "Roman de Renart."

In this ample comedy everybody has a part to perform; everybody and

everything is in turn laughed at: the king, the nobles, the citizens,

the Pope, the pilgrims, the monks, every belief and every custom,[205]

religion, and justice, the powerful, the rich, the hypocrites, the

simple-minded; and, so that nothing shall be wanting, the author scoffs

at himself and his caste; he knows its failings, points them out and

laughs at them. The tone is heroi-comical: for the jest to take effect,

the contrast must be clearly visible, and we should keep in view the

importance of principles and the majesty of kings:

"Lordings, you have heard many a tale, related by many a tale-teller,

how Paris ravished Helen, the trouble it brought him, and the sorrow!...

also gests and fabliaux; but never did you hear of the war--such a hard

one it was, and of such great import--between Renard and Ysengrin."[206]

The personages are animals; their sentiments are human; king lion swears

like a man[207]; but the way in which they sit, or stand, or move, is

that of their species. Every motion of theirs is observed with that

correctness of eye which is always found in early times among animal

painters, long before painters of the human figure rise to the same

excellence. There are perfect descriptions of Ysengrin, who feels very

foolish after a rebuke of the king's, and "sits with his tail between

his legs"; of the cock, monarch of the barn-yard; of Tybert the cat; of

Tardif the slug; of Espinar the hedgehog; of Bruin the bear; of Roonel

the mastiff; of Couard the hare; of Noble the lion. The arrival of a

procession of hens at Court is an excellent scene of comedy.

"Sir Chanteclair, the cock, and Pinte, who lays the big eggs, and Noire,

and Blanche, and la Roussette, were dragging a cart with drawn curtains.

A hen lay in it prostrate.... Renard had so maltreated her, and so

pulled her about with his teeth, that her thigh was broken, and a wing

torn off her side."[208]

Pinte, moved to tears and ready to faint, like Esther before Ahasuerus,

tells the king her woes. She had five brothers, Renard has devoured

every one; she had five sisters, but "only one has Renard spared; all

the rest have passed through his jaws. And you, who lie there on your

bier, my sweet sister, my dear friend, how plump and tender you were!

What will become of your poor unfortunate sister?"[209] She is very near

adding in Racine's words: "Mes filles, soutenez votre reine eperdue!"

Anyhow, she faints.

"The unfortunate Pinte thereupon fainted and fell on the pavement; and

so did the others, all at once. To assist the four ladies all jumped

from their stools, dog and wolf and other beasts, and threw water on

their brows."[210]

The king is quite upset by so moving a sight: "His head out of anger he

shakes; never was so bold a beast, a bear be it or a boar, who does not

fear when their lord sighs and howls. So much afraid was Couard the hare

that for two days he had the fever; all the Court shakes together, the

boldest for dread tremble. He, in his wrath, raises his tail, and is

moved with such pangs that the roar fills the house; and then this was

his speech: 'Lady Pinte,' the emperor said, 'upon my father's

soul'"[211]....

Hereupon follows a solemn promise, couched in the most impressive words,

that the traitor shall be punished; which will make all the more

noticeable the utter defeat which verbose royalty soon afterward

suffers. Renard worsts the king's messengers; Bruin the bear has his

nose torn off; Tybert the cat loses half his tail; Renard jeers at them,

at the king, and at the Court. And all through the story he triumphs

over Ysengrin, as Panurge over Dindenault, Scapin over Geronte, and

Figaro over Bridoison. Renard is the first of the family; he is such a

natural and spontaneous creation of the French mind that we see him

reappear from century to century, the same character under different

names.

One last point to be noted is the impression of open air given by nearly

all the branches of this romance, in spite of the brevity of the

descriptions. We are in the fields, by the hedges, following the roads

and the footpaths; the moors are covered with heather; the rocks are

crowned by oaken copse, the roads are lined with hawthorn, cabbages

display in the gardens the heavy mass of their clustering leaves. We see

with regret the moment when "the sweet time of summer declines." Winter

draws near, a north wind blows over the paths leading to the sea. Renard

"dedenz sa tour" of Maupertuis lights a great wood fire, and, while his

little ones jump for joy, grills slices of eels on the embers.

Renard was popular throughout Europe. In England parts of the romance

were translated or imitated; superb manuscripts were illustrated for the

libraries of the nobles; the incidents of this epic were represented in

tapestry, sculptured on church stalls, painted on the margins of English

missals. At the Renaissance Caxton, with his Westminster presses,

printed a Renard in prose.[212]

Above, below, around these greater works, swarms the innumerable legion

of satirical fabliaux and laughable tales. They, too, cross the sea,

slight, imperceptible, wandering, thus continuing those migrations so

difficult to trace, the laws of which learned men of all nations have

vainly sought to discover. They follow all roads; nothing stops them.

Pass the mountains and you will find them; cross the sea and they have

preceded you; they spring from the earth; they fall from heaven; the

breeze bears them along like pollen, and they go to bloom on other stems

in unknown lands, producing thorny or poisonous or perfumed flowers, and

flowers of every hue. All those varieties of flowers are sometimes found

clustered in unexpected places, on wild mountain sides, along lonely

paths, on the moors of Brittany or Scotland, in royal parks and in

convent gardens. At the beginning of the seventh century the great Pope

St. Gregory introduces into his works a number of "Exempla," saying:

"Some are more incited to the love of the celestial country by

stories--exempla--than by sermons;"[213] and in the gardens of

monasteries, after his day, more and more miscellaneous grow the

blossoms. They are gathered and preserved as though in herbals,

collections are made of them, from which preachers borrow; tales of

miracles are mixed with others of a less edifying nature.

Stop before the house of this anchoress, secluded from the world, and

absorbed in pious meditations, a holy and quiet place. An old woman sits

under the window; the anchoress appears and a conversation begins. Let

us listen; it is a long time since both women have been listened to.

What is the subject of their talk? The old woman brings news of the

outer world, relates stories, curious incidents of married and unmarried

life, tales of wicked wives and wronged husbands. The recluse laughs:

"os in risus cachinnosque dissolvitur"; in a word, the old woman amuses

the anchoress with fabliaux in an embryonic state. This is a most

remarkable though little known example, for we can here observe fabliaux

in a rudimentary stage, and going about in one more, and that a rather

unexpected way. Is the case of this anchoress a unique one? Not at all;

there was scarcely any recluse at that day, "vix aliquam inclusarum

hujus temporis," without a friendly old woman to sit before her window

and tell her such tales: of which testifies, in the twelfth century,

Aelred, abbot of Rievaulx.[214]

From the thirteenth century, another medium of diffusion, a conspicuous

and well-known one, is added to the others: not only minstrels, but

wandering friars now carry tales to all countries; it is one of the ways

they count on for securing a welcome. Their sermons raise a laugh, the

success of their fables encourages their rivals to imitate them; the

Councils vainly interfere, and reiterate, until after the Renaissance,

the prohibition "to provoke shouts of laughter, after the fashion of

shameless buffoons, by ridiculous stories and old wives' tales."[215]

Dante had also protested, and Wyclif likewise, without more success than

the Councils. "Thus," said Dante, "the ignorant sheep come home from

pasture, wind-fed.... Jests and buffooneries are preached.... St.

Anthony's swine fattens by these means, and others, worse than swine,

fatten too."[216] But collections succeeded to collections, and room was

found in them for many a scandalous tale, for that of the Weeping Bitch,

for example, one of the most travelled of all, as it came from India,

and is found everywhere, in Italy, France, and England, among fabliaux,

in sermons, and even on the stage.[217]

The French who were now living in England in large numbers, introduced

there the taste for merry tales of trickery and funny adventures,

stories of curious mishaps of all kinds; of jealous husbands, duped,

beaten, and withal perfectly content, and of fit wives for such

husbands. It already pleased their teasing, mocking minds, fond of

generalisations, to make themselves out a vicious race, without faith,

truth, or honour: it ever was a _gab_ of theirs. The more one protests,

the more they insist; they adduce proofs and instances; they are

convinced and finally convince others. In our age of systems, this

magnifying of the abject side of things has been termed "realism"; for

so-called "realism" is nothing more. True it is that if the home of

tales is "not where they are born, but where they are comfortable,"[218]

France was a home for them. They reached there the height of their

prosperity; the turn of mind of which they are the outcome has by no

means disappeared; even to-day it is everywhere found, in the public

squares, in the streets, in the newspapers, theatres, and novels. And it

serves, as it did formerly, to make wholesale condemnations easy, very

easy to judges who may be dazzled by this jugglery of the French mind,

who look only at the goods exhibited before their eyes, and who scruple

the less to pass a sentence as they have to deal with a culprit who

confesses. But judge and culprit both forget that, next to the realism

of the fabliaux, there is the realism of the Song of Roland, not less

real, perhaps more so; for France has _lived_ by her Song of Roland much

more than by her merry tales, that song which was sung in many ways and

for many centuries. Du Guesclin and Corneille both sang it, each one

after his fashion.

On the same table may be found "La Terre," and "Grandeur et Servitude."

In the same hall, the same minstrel, representing in his own person the

whole library of the castle, used formerly to relate the shameful tale

of Gombert and the two clerks, juggle with knives, and sing of Roland.

"I know tales," says one, "I know fabliaux, I can tell fine new

_dits_.... I know the fabliau of the 'Denier' ... and that of Gombert

and dame Erme.... I know how to play with knives, and with the cord and

with the sling, and every fine game in the world. I can sing at will of

King Pepin of St. Denis ... of Charlemagne and of Roland, and of Oliver,

who fought so well; I know of Ogier and of Aymon."[219]

All this literature went over the Channel with the conquerors. Roland

came to England, so did Renard, so did Gombert. They contributed to

transform the mind of the vanquished race, and the vanquished race

contributed to transform the descendants of the victors.

FOOTNOTES:

[153]

Thus com lo Engelond | in to Normandies hond;

And the Normans ne couthe speke tho | bot hor owe speche,

And speke French as hii dude atom | and hor children dude also teche,

So that heiemen of this lond | that of hor blod come

Holdeth alle thulke speche | that hii of hom nome;

Vor bote a man conne Frenss | me telth of him lute,

Ac lowe men holdeth to engliss | and to hor owe speche yute.

Ich wene ther ne beth in al the world | contreyes none

That ne holdeth to hor owe speche | bote Engelonde one.

W. A. Wright, "Metrical Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester" (Rolls),

1887, vol. ii. p. 543. Concerning Robert, see below, p. 122.

[154] Letter of the year 1209, by which Gerald sends to King John the

second edition of his "Expugnatio Hiberniae"; in "Giraldi Cambrensis

Opera" (Rolls), vol. v. p. 410. Further on he speaks of French as of

"communi idiomate."

[155] "La parleure est plus delitable et plus commune a toutes gens."

"Li livres dou Tresor," thirteenth century (a sort of philosophical,

historical, scientific, &c., cyclopaedia), ed. Chabaille, Paris,

"Documents inedits," 1863, 4to. Dante cherished "the dear and sweet

fatherly image" of his master, Brunetto, who recommended to the poet his

"Tresor," for, he said, "in this book I still live." "Inferno," canto

xv.

[156] For the laws, see the "Statutes of the Realm," 1819-28, Record

Commission, 11 vols, fol.; for the accounts of the sittings of

Parliament, "Rotuli Parliamentorum," London, 1767-77, 6 vols. fol.; for

the accounts of lawsuits, the "Year Books," ed. Horwood, Rolls, 1863 ff.

[157] Author of a "Chronique de la guerre entre les Anglois et les

Escossois," 1173-74, in French verse, ed. R. Howlett: "Chronicles of the

reigns of Stephen, Henry II., and Richard I." (Rolls), 1884 ff., vol.

iii. p. 203.

[158] See below, pp. 122, 123, 130, 214.

[159] Example: "Romanz de un chivaler e de sa dame e de un clerk,"

written in French by an Englishman in the thirteenth century, ed. Paul

Meyer, "Romania," vol. i. p. 70. It is an adaptation of the well-known

_fabliau_ of the "Bourgeoise d'Orleans" (in Montaiglon and Raynaud,

"Recueil general des Fabliaux," 1872, vol. i. p. 117). See below, p.

225.

[160] "Croniques de London ... jusqu'a l'an 17 Ed. III.," ed. Aungier

Camden Society, 1844, 4to.

[161] "Image du Monde," thirteenth century, a poem, very popular both in

France and in England, of which "about sixty MSS. are known," "Romania,"

vol. xv. p. 314; some of the MSS. were written in England.--"Petite

Philosophie," also in verse, being an "abrege de cosmographie et de

geographie," "Romania," xv. p. 255.--"Lumiere des laiques," a poem,

written in the thirteenth century, by the Anglo-Norman Pierre de Peckham

or d'Abernun, _ibid._ p. 287.--"Secret des Secrets," an adaptation, in

French prose, of the "Secretum Secretorum," wrongly attributed to

Aristotle, this adaptation being the work of an Irishman, Geoffrey de

Waterford, who translated also Dares and Eutrope, thirteenth century

(see "Histoire Litteraire de la France," vol. xxi. p. 216).--To these

may be added translations in French of various Latin works, books on the

properties of things, law books, such as the "Institutes" of Justinian,

turned into French verse by the Norman Richard d'Annebaut, and the

"Coutume de Normandie," turned also into verse, by Guillaume Chapu, also

a Norman, both living in the thirteenth century.

[162] See above, p. 113. The wealth of this historical literature in the

French tongue is greater at first than that of the literature produced

by the subjects of the French kings. Besides the great chronicles, many

other works might be quoted, such as lives of saints, which are

sometimes historical biographies (St. Edward, St. Thomas Becket, &c.);

the "Histoire de la Guerre Sainte," an account of the third crusade, by

Ambrose, a companion of King Richard Coeur-de-Lion (in preparation, by

Gaston Paris, "Documents inedits"); the "Estoire le roi Dermot," on the

troubles in Ireland, written in the thirteenth century ("Song of Dermot

and the Earl," ed. Orpen, Oxford, 1892, 8vo; _cf._ P. Meyer, "Romania,"

vol. xxi. p. 444), &c.

[163] This Life was written in the thirteenth century, by order of Earl

William, son of the hero of the story. Its historical accuracy is

remarkable. The MS. was discovered by M. Paul Meyer, and published by

him: "Histoire de Guillaume le Marechal," Paris, 1892 ff., Societe de

l'histoire de France. On the value of this Life, see an article by the

same, "Romania," vol. xi. The slab in the Temple Church is in an

excellent state of preservation; the image of the earl seems to be a

portrait; the face is that of an old man with many wrinkles; the sword

is out of the scabbard, and held in the right hand; its point is driven

through the head of an animal at the feet of the earl.

[164] Jean de Waurin, who wrote in French prose in the fifteenth century

his "Chroniques et anchiennes istoires de la Grant-Bretaigne" (ed.

Hardy, Rolls, 1864 ff.) was a Frenchman of France, who had fought at

Agincourt on the French side. The chronicle of Peter de Langtoft, canon

of Bridlington, Yorkshire, who lived under Edward I. and Edward II., was

printed by Thomas Wright, 1866 (Rolls), 2 vols. 8vo.

[165]

Engelond his a wel god lond | ich wene ech londe best ...

The see geth him al aboute | he stond as in an yle,

Of fon hii dorre the lasse doute | bote hit be thorgh gyle ...

Plente me may in Engelond | of alle gode ise.

W. A. Wright, "Metrical Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester," 1887

(Rolls), vol. i. pp. 1, 2. Robert's surname, "of Gloucester," is not

certain; see Mr. Wright's preface, and his letter to the _Athenaeum_, May

19, 1888. He is very hard (too hard it seems) on Robert, of whose work

he says: "As literature it is as worthless as twelve thousand lines of

verse without one spark of poetry can be."

[166] Among writings of this sort, written in French either by Frenchmen

or by Englishmen, and popular in England, may be quoted: Penitential

Psalms, a French version very popular in England, in a MS. preserved at

the University Library, Cambridge, thirteenth century ("Romania," vol.

xv. p. 305).--Explanation of the Gospels: the "Miroir," by Robert de

Greteham, in 20,000 French verses (_Ibid._).--Lives of Saints: life of

Becket in "Materials for the history of Thomas Becket," ed. Robertson,

1875 ff., 7 vols., and "Fragments d'une vie de St. Thomas" (with very

curious engravings), edited by Paul Meyer, 1885, 4to, Societe des

Anciens Textes; life of St. Catherine, by Sister Clemence de Barking,

twelfth century (G. Paris, "Romania," xiii. p. 400); life of St.

Josaphaz and life of the Seven Sleepers, by Chardry, thirteenth century

("Chardry's Josaphaz," &c., ed. Koch, Heilbronn, 1879, 8vo); life of St.

Gregory the Great, by Augier, of St. Frideswide's, Oxford, thirteenth

century (text and commentary in "Romania," xii. pp. 145 ff.); lives of

St. Edward (ed. Luard, Rolls, 1858); mention of many other lives in

French (others in English) will be found in Hardy's "Descriptive

Catalogue," Rolls, 1862 ff.--Manuals and treatises: by Robert

Grosseteste, William de Wadington and others (see below, p. 214).--Works

concerning Our Lady: "Adgars Marien Legenden," ed. Carl Neuhaus,

Heilbronn, 1886, 8vo (stories in French verse of miracles of the Virgin,

by Adgar, an Anglo-Norman of the twelfth century; some take place in

England); "Joies de Notre Dame," "Plaintes de Notre Dame," French poems

written in England, thirteenth century (see "Romania," vol. xv. pp. 307

ff.).--Moralised tales and Bestiaries: "Bestiaire" of Philippe de Thaon,

a Norman priest of the twelfth century, in French verse (includes a

"Lapidaire" and a "Volucraire," on the virtues of stones and birds),

text in T. Wright, "Popular Treatises on Science," London 1841,

Historical Society, 8vo; (see also P. Meyer, "Recueil d'anciens textes,"

Paris, 1877, 8vo, p. 286), the same wrote also an ecclesiastical

"Comput" in verse (ed. Mall, Strasbourg, 1873, 8vo); "Bestiaire divin,"

by Guillaume le Clerc, also a Norman, thirteenth century (ed. Hippeau,

Caen, 1852, 8vo), to be compared to the worldly "Bestiaire d'Amour," of

Richard de Fournival, thirteenth century (ed. Hippeau, Paris, 1840,

8vo); translation in French prose, probably by a Norman, of the Latin

fables (thirteenth century) of Odo de Cheriton, "Romania," vol. xiv. p.

388, and Hervieux, "Fabulistes Latins," vol. ii.; "Contes moralises de

Nicole Bozon," ed. P. Meyer and Lucy Toulmin Smith, Paris, 1889, 8vo,

Societe des Anciens Textes, in French prose, fourteenth

century.--Sermons: "Reimpredigt," ed. Suchier, Halle, 1879, 8vo, in

French verse, by an Anglo-Norman; on sermons in French and in Latin, see

Lecoy de la Marche, "La Chaire francaise an moyen age," Paris, 1886,

8vo, 2nd ed.; at p. 282, sermon on the Passion by Geoffrey de Waterford

in French verse, Anglo-Norman dialect.

[167] "Reimpredigt," ed. Suchier, Halle, 1879, p. 64. There were also

sermons in English (see next chapter); Jocelin de Brakelonde says in his

chronicle that sermons were delivered in churches, "gallice vel potius

anglice, ut morum fieret edificatio, non literaturae ostensio," year 1200

(Camden Society, 1840, p. 95).

[168] "La Chanson de Roland, texte critique, traduction et commentaire,"

by Leon Gautier, Tours, 1881, 8vo; "La Chanson de Roland, traduction

archaique et rythmee," by L. Cledat, Paris, 1887, 8vo. On the romances

of the cycle of Charlemagne composed in England, see G. Paris, "Histoire

poetique de Charlemagne," 1865, 8vo, pp. 155 ff. The unique MS. of the

"Chanson," written about 1170, is at Oxford, where it was found in our

century. It was printed for the first time in 1837. Other versions of

the story have come down to us; on which see Gaston Paris's Introduction

to his "Extraits de la Chanson de Roland," 1893, 4th ed.

[169]

Croist li aciers, ne fraint ne s'esgruignet;

Et dist li cuens: "Sainte Marie, aiude!...

E! Durendal, com ies et clere et blanche!

Contre soleil si reluis et reflambes!...

E! Durendal, com ies bele et saintisme!"

[170]

Cil Sarrazins me semblet mult herites.

[171]

Ne a muillier n'a dame qu'as veuet

N'en vanteras el' regne dunt tu fus.

[172] "Car le Royaume de France ne fut oncques si desconfis que on n'y

trouvast bien tousjours a qui combattre." Prologue of the Chronicles,

Luce's edition, vol. i. p. 212.

[173]

Car bien scavons sanz nul espoir

Q'il ne fu pius de c ans nee

Q'il grans ost fu assemblee.

MS. fr. 60 in the National Library, Paris, fol. 42; contains: "Li

Roumans de Tiebes qui fu racine de Troie la grant.--Item toute

l'histoire de Troie la grant."

[174] "Alexandre le Grand, dans la litterature francaise du moyen age,"

by P. Meyer, Paris, 1886, 2 vols. 8vo (vol. i. texts, vol. ii. history

of the legend); vol. ii. p. 182.

[175] MS. fr. 782 at the National Library, Paris, containing poems by

Benoit de Sainte-More, fol. 151, 155, 158.

[176] Benoit de Sainte-More, a poet of the court of Henry II., wrote his

"Roman de Troie" about 1160 (G. Paris); it was edited by Joly, Paris,

1870, 2 vols. 4to.--"Le Roman de Thebes," ed. L. Constans, Paris, 1890,

2 vols. 8vo, wrongly attributed to Benoit de Sainte-More, indirectly

imitated from the "Thebaid" of Statius.--"Eneas," a critical text, ed.

J. Salvedra de Grave, Halle, Bibliotheca Normannica, 1891, 8vo, also

attributed, but wrongly it seems, to Benoit; the work of a Norman,

twelfth century; imitated from the "AEneid."--The immense poem of

Eustache or Thomas de Kent is still unpublished; the author imitates the

romance in "alexandrines" of Lambert le Tort and Alexandre de Paris,

twelfth century, ed. Michelant, Stuttgart, 1846.--The romances of Hue de

Rotelande (Rhuddlan in Flintshire?) are also in French verse, and were

composed between 1176-7 and 1190-1; see Ward, "Catalogue of Romances,"

1883, vol. i. pp. 728 ff.; his "Ipomedon" has been edited by Koelbing and

Koschwitz, Breslau, 1889, 8vo; his "Prothesilaus" is still unpublished.

[177] Lib. IX. cap. ii.

[178] "Hic est Arthur de quo Britonum nugae hodieque delirant, dignus

plane quod non fallaces somniarent fabulae, sed veraces praedicarent

historiae." "De Gestis," ed. Stubbs, Rolls, vol. i. p. 11. Henry of

Huntingdon, on the other hand, unable to identify the places of Arthur's

battles, descants upon the vanity of fame and glory, "popularis aurae,

laudis adulatoriae, famae transitoriae...." "Historia Anglorum," Rolls, p.

49.

[179] Says the Wolf:

Dont estes vos? de quel pais?

Vos n'estes mie nes de France ...

--Nai, mi seignor, mais de Bretaing ...

--Et savez vos neisun mestier?

--Ya, ge fot molt bon jogler ...

Ge fot savoir bon lai Breton.

"Roman de Renart," ed. Martin, vol. i. pp. 66, 67.

[180] Gildas, "De Excidio Britanniae," ed. J. Stevenson, English

Historical Society, 1838, 8vo; Nennius, "Historia Britonum," same

editor, place, and date.

[181] His "Historia" was edited by Giles, London, 1844, 8vo, and by San

Marte, "Gottfried von Monmouth Historia regum Britanniae," Halle, 1854,

8vo. Geoffrey of Monmouth, or rather Geoffrey Arthur, a name which had

been borne by his father before him (Galffrai or Gruffyd in Welsh),

first translated from Welsh into Latin the prophecies of Merlin,

included afterwards in his "Historia"; bishop of St. Asaph, 1152; died

at Llandaff, 1154. See Ward, "Catalogue of Romances," vol. i. pp. 203

ff.

[182] Ward, "Catalogue of Romances," vol. i. p. 210.

[183] "Quidam nostris temporibus, pro expiandis his Britonum maculis,

scriptor emersit, ridicula de eisdem figmenta contexens, ... Gaufridus

hic dictus est.... Profecto minimum digitum sui Arturi grossiorem facit

dorso Alexandri magni." "Guilielmi Neubrigensis Historia," ed. Hearne,

Oxford, 1719, 3 vols. 8vo, "Proemium"; end of the twelfth century.

[184] "Le Roman de Brut," ed. Le Roux de Lincy, Rouen, 1836-38, 2 vols.

8vo. _Cf._ P. Meyer, "De quelques chroniques anglo-normandes qui ont

porte le nom de Brut," Paris, 1878, "Bulletin de la Societe des Anciens

Textes francais."

[185] The oldest poem we have in which the early songs on Tristan were

gathered into one whole was written in French, on English soil, by Berou

about 1150. Another version, also in French verse, was written about

1170 by another Anglo-Norman, called Thomas. A third was the work of the

famous Chrestien de Troyes, same century. We have only fragments of the

two first; the last is entirely lost. It has been, however, possible to

reconstitute the poem of Thomas "by means of three versions: a German

one (by Gotfrid of Strasbourg, unfinished), a Norwegian one (in prose,

ab. 1225, faithful but compressed), and an English one (XIVth century, a

greatly impaired text)." G. Paris, "La Litterature francaise au moyen

age," 2nd ed., 1890, p. 94. See also "Tristan et Iseut," by the same,

_Revue de Paris_, April 15, 1894.

Texts: "The poetical Romances of Tristan in French, in Anglo-Norman, and

in Greek," ed. Francisque Michel, London, 1835-9, 3 vols. 8vo.--"Die

Nordische und die Englische Version der Tristan-Sage," ed. Koelbing,

Heilbronn, 1878-83, 2 vols. 8vo; vol. i., "Tristrams Saga ok Isoudar"

(Norwegian prose); vol. ii., "Sir Tristram" (English verse).--"Gottfried

von Strassburg Tristan," ed. Reinhold Bachstein, Leipzig, 1869, 2 vols.

8vo (German verse).

[186] "Inferno," canto v.

[187] The following analysis is mainly made after "Tristan et Iseult,

poeme de Gotfrit de Strasbourg, compare a d'autres poemes sur le meme

sujet," by A. Bossert, Paris, 1865, 8vo. Gotfrit wrote before 1203 (G.

Paris, "Histoire Litterarie de la France," vol. xxx. p. 21).

[188]

En sa chambre se set un jor,

E fait un lai pitus d'am[o]r:

Coment dan Guirun fu surpris,

Pur l'amur de sa dame ocis....

La reine chante dulcement,

La voiz acorde el estrument;

Les mainz sunt bels, li lais b[o]ns

Dulce la voiz [et] bas li tons.

Francisque Michel, _ut supra_, vol. iii. p. 39.

[189] On this incident, the earliest version of which is as old as the

fourteenth century B.C., having been found in an Egyptian papyrus of

that date, see the article by Gaston Paris's, Part I.

[190] Swinburne, "Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems."

[191] Bosert, pp. 62, 68, 72, 82.

[192] "Et vous deistes, ales a Dieu, beau doulx amis. Ne oncques puis du

cueur ne me pot issir; ce fut li moz qui preudomme me fera si je jamais

le suis; car oncques puis ne fus a si grant meschief qui de ce mot ne me

souvenist; cilz moz me conforte en tous mes anuys; cilz moz m'a

tousjours garanti et garde de tous perilz; cilz moz m'a saoule en toutes

mes faims; cilz moz me fait riche en toutes mes pouretes. Par foi fait

la royne cilz moz fut de bonne heure dit, et benois soit dieux qui dire

le me fist. Mais je ne le pris pas si acertes comme vous feistes. A

maint chevalier l'ay je dit la ou oncques je n'y pensay fors du dire

seulement." MS. fr. 118 in the National Library, Paris, fol. 219;

fourteenth century. The history of Lancelot was told in verse and prose

in almost all the languages of Europe, from the twelfth century. One of

the oldest versions (twelfth century) was the work of an Anglo-Norman.

The most famous of the Lancelot poems is the "Conte de la Charrette," by

Chrestien de Troyes, written between 1164 and 1172 (G. Paris, "Romania,"

vol. xii. p. 463).

[193] "Omnis consuevit amans in coamantis aspectu pallescere," &c. Rules

supposed to have been discovered by a knight at the court of Arthur, and

transcribed in the "Flos Amoris," or "De Arte honeste amandi," of Andre

le Chapelain, thirteenth century; "Romania," vol. xii. p. 532.

[194] On these romances, see, in "Histoire Litteraire de la France,"

vol. xxx., a notice by Gaston Paris. On the MSS. of them preserved in

the British Museum, see Ward, "Catalogue of MS. Romances," 1883 (on

Merlin, pp. 278 ff.; on other prophecies, and especially those by Thomas

of Erceldoune, p. 328; these last have been edited by Alois Brandl,

"Thomas of Erceldoune," Berlin, 1880, 8vo, "Sammlung Englischer

Denkmaeler," and by the Early English Text Society, 1875).

[195] On legends of Hindu origin and for a long time wrongly attributed

to the Arabs, see Gaston Paris, "le Lai de l'Oiselet," Paris, 1884, 8vo.

See also the important work of M. Bedier, "les Fabliaux," Paris, 1893,

8vo, in which the evidence concerning the Eastern origin of tales is

carefully sifted and restricted within the narrowest limits: very few

come from the East, not the bulk of them, as was generally admitted.

[196] For Amis, very popular in England, see Koelbing, "Amis and

Amiloun," Heilbronn, 1884 (_cf._ below, p. 229), and "Nouvelles

francoises en prose du treizieme siecle," edited by Moland and

d'Hericault, Paris, 1856, 16mo; these "Nouvelles" include: "l'Empereur

Constant," "les Amities de Ami et Amile," "le roi Flore et la belle

Jehanne," "la Comtesse de Ponthieu," "Aucassin et Nicolette."--The

French text of "Floire et Blanceflor" is to be found in Edelstand du

Meril, "Poemes du treizieme siecle," Paris, 1856, 16mo.--For Marie de

France, see H. Suchier, "Die Lais der Marie de France," Halle,

Bibliotheca, Normannica, 1885, 8vo; her fables are in vol. ii. of

"Poesies de Marie de France," ed. Roquefort, Paris, 1819, 2 vols. 8vo.

See also Bedier's article in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, Oct. 15, 1891,

also the chapter on Marie in Hervieux, "Fabulistes Latins," 1883-4, 2nd

part, chap. i.

[197] On this subject, see Gaston Paris's criticism of the "Origines de

la poesie lyrique en France" of Jeanroy, in the "Journal des Savants,"

1892.

[198] One fact among many shows how constant was the intercourse on the

Continent between Frenchmen of France and Englishmen living or

travelling there, namely, the knowledge of the English language shown in

the twelfth and thirteenth centuries by the authors of several branches

of the "Roman de Renart," and the caricatures they drew of English

people, which would have amused nobody if the originals of the pictures

had not been familiar to all. (See Branches Ib and XIV. in Martin's

edition.)

[199] Jeanroy, "Origines de la poesie lyrique en France, au moyen age,"

Paris, 1889, 8vo, p. 68. An allusion in a crusade song of the twelfth

century shows that this _motif_ was already popular then. It is found

also in much older poetry and more remote countries, for Jeanroy quotes

a Chinese poem, written before the seventh century of our era, where, it

is true, a mere cock and mere flies play the part of the Verona lark and

nightingale: "It was not the cock, it was the hum of flies," or in the

Latin translation of Father Lacharme: "Fallor, non cantavit gallus, sed

muscarum fuit strepitus," _ibid._, p. 70.

On _chansons_ written in French by Anglo-Normans, see "Melanges de

poesie anglo-normande," by P. Meyer, in "Romania," vol. iv. p. 370, and

"Les Manuscrits Francais de Cambridge," by the same, _ibid._, vol. xv.

[200] Anglo-Norman song, written in England, in the thirteenth century,

"Romania," vol. xv. p. 254.

[201] "La Plainte d'amour," from a MS. in the University Library,

Cambridge, GG I. 1, "Romania," _ibid._

[202]

Bele Aliz matin leva,

Sun cors vesti e para,

Enz un verger s'entra,

Cink flurettes y truva,

Un chapelet fet en a

De rose flurie;

Pur Deu, trahez vus en la

Vus ki ne amez mie.

The text of the sermon, as we have it is in Latin; it has long but

wrongly been attributed to Stephen Langton; printed by T. Wright in his

"Biographia Britannica, Anglo-Norman period," 1846, p. 446.

[203] "Le Pelerinage de Charlemagne," eleventh century. Only one MS. has

been preserved, written in England, in the thirteenth century; it has

been edited by Koschwitz, "Karls des Grossen Reise nach Jerusalem und

Konstantinopel," Heilbronn, 1880, 8vo. _Cf._ G. Paris, "La poesie

francaise au moyen age," 1885, p. 119, and "Romania," vol. ix.

[204] "Le Roman de Renart," ed. E. Martin, Strasbourg, 1882-7, 4 vols.

8vo; contains: vol. i., the old series of branches; vol. ii., the

additional branches; vol. iii., variants; vol. iv., notes and tables.

Most of the branches were composed in Normandy, Ile-de-France, Picardy;

the twelfth is the work of Richard de Lison, a Norman, end of the

twelfth century; several, for example the fourteenth, evince on the part

of their author a knowledge of the English tongue and manners.

Concerning the sources of the "Roman," see Sudre, "Les Sources du Roman

de Renart," Paris, 1892, 8vo.

[205] Caricature of a funeral ceremony:--

Brun li ors, prenez vostre estole ...

Sire Tardis li limacons

Lut par lui sol les trois lecons

Et Roenel chanta les vers. (Vol. i. p. 12.)

[206]

Seigneurs, oi avez maint conte

Que maint conterre vous raconte,

Conment Paris ravi Eleine,

Le mal qu'il en ot et la paine ...

Et fabliaus, chansons de geste ...

Mais onques n'oistes la guerre,

Qui tant fu dure et de grant fin

Entre Renart et Ysengrin.

(Prologue of Branch II.)

[207]

"Or dont," dit Nobles, "au deable!

Por le cuer be, sire Ysengrin,

Prendra ja vostre gerre fin?"

(Vol. i. p. 8.)

[208]

... Sire Chanticler li cos,

Et Pinte qui pont les ues gros

Et Noire et Blanche et la Rossete

Amenoient une charete

Qui envouxe ert d'une cortine.

Dedenz gisoit une geline

Que l'en amenoit en litere

Fete autresi con une bere.

Renart l'avoit si maumenee

Et as denz si desordenee

Que la cuisse li avoit frete

Et une ele hors del cors trete.

(Vol. i. p. 9.)

[209]

... Renart ne l'en laissa

De totes cinc que une soule:

Totes passerent par sa goule.

Et vos qui la gisez en bere,

Ma douce suer m'amie chere,

Con vos estieez tendre et crasse!

Que fera vostre suer la lasse?

(Vol. i. p. 10.)

[210]

Pinte la lasse a ces paroles

Chai, pamee el pavement

Et les autres tot ensement.

Por relever les quatre dames,

Se leverent de leurs escames

Et chen et lou et autres bestes,

Eve lor getent sor les testes.

[211]

Par mautalant drece la teste.

Onc n'i ot si hardie beste,

Or ne sangler, que poor n'et

Quant lor sire sospire et bret.

Tel poor ot Coars li levres

Que il en ot deus jors les fevres.

Tote la cort fremist ensemble,

Li plus hardis de peor tremble.

Par mautalent sa coue drece,

Si se debat par tel destrece

Que tot en sone la meson,

Et puis fu tele sa reson.

Dame Pinte, fet l'emperere,

Foi que doi a l'ame mon pere....

[212] Examples of sculptures in the stalls of the cathedrals at

Gloucester, St. David's, &c.; of miniatures, MS. 10 E iv. in the British

Museum (English drawings of the beginning of the fourteenth century, one

of them reproduced in "English Wayfaring Life," p. 309); of manuscripts:

MS. fr. 12,583 in the National Library, Paris, "Cest livre est a Humfrey

duc de Gloucester, liber lupi et vulpis"; of a translation in English of

part of the romance: "Of the Vox and the Wolf" (time of Edward I., in

Wright's "Selection of Latin Stories," Percy Society; see below, pp. 228

ff.). Caxton issued in 1481 "Thystorye of Reynard the Foxe," reprinted

by Thoms, Percy Society, 1844, 8vo. The MS. in the National Library,

mainly followed by Martin in his edition, offers "a sort of mixture of

the Norman and Picard dialects. The vowels generally present Norman if

not Anglo-Norman characteristics." "Roman de Renart," vol. i. p. 2.

[213] In Migne's "Patrologia," vol. lxxvii. col. 153. "Dialogorum Liber

I."; Prologue.

[214] "De vita eremitica," in Migne's "Patrologia," vol. xxxii. col.

1451, text below, p. 213.

[215] Council of Sens, 1528, in "The Exempla, or illustrative Stories

from the Sermones Vulgares of Jacques de Vitry," ed. T. F. Crane,

London, 1890, 8vo, p. lxix. The collection of sermons with _exempla_,

compiled by Jacques de Vitry (born ab. 1180, d. ab. 1239), was one of

the most popular, and is one of the most curious of its kind.

[216]

Si che le pecorelle, che non sanno,

Tornan dal pasco pasciute di vento ...

Ora si va con motti, e con iscede

A predicare....

Di questo ingrassa il porco Sant' Antonio,

Ed altri assai, che son peggio che porci,

Pagando di moneta senza conio.

("Paradiso," canto xxix.)

[217] To be found, _e.g._, in Jacques de Vitry, _ibid._ p. 105: "Audivi

de quadam vetula que non poterat inducere quandam matronam ut juveni

consentiret," &c. See below, pp. 225, and 447.

[218] Bedier, "Les Fabliaux," Paris, 1893, 8vo, p. 241; Bedier's

definition of the same is as follows: "Les fabliaux sont des contes a

rire, en vers," p. 6. The principal French collections are: Barbazan and

Meon, "Fabliaux et contes des poetes francais," Paris, 1808, 4 vols.

8vo; Montaiglon and Raynaud, "Recueil general et complet des Fabliaux,"

Paris, 1872-90, 6 vols. 8vo.

[219]

Ge sai contes, ge sai fableax,

Ge sai conter beax diz noveax, &c.

"Des deux bordeors ribauz," in Montaiglon and Raynaud, "Recueil

general," vol. i. p. 11.

CHAPTER III.

_LATIN._

I.

The ties with France were close ones; those with Rome were no less so.

William had come to England, politically as the heir of the Anglo-Saxon

kings, and with regard to ecclesiastical affairs as the Pope's chosen,

blessed by the head of Christianity. In both respects, notwithstanding

storms and struggles, the tradition thus started was continued under his

successors.

At no period of the history of England was the union with Rome closer,

and at no time, not even in the Augustan Age of English literature was

there a larger infusion of Latin ideas. The final consequence of Henry

II.'s quarrel with Thomas Becket was a still more complete submission of

this prince to the Roman See. John Lackland's fruitless attempts to

reach absolute power resulted in the gift of his domains to St. Peter

and the oath of fealty sworn by him as vassal of the Pope: "We, John, by

the grace of God, king of England, lord of Ireland, duke of Normandy,

earl of Anjou, ... Wishing to humiliate ourselves for Him who humiliated

Himself for us even unto death ... freely offer and concede to God and

to our lord Pope Innocent and his Catholic successors, all the kingdom

of England and all the kingdom of Ireland for the remission of our

sins,"[220] May 15, 1213.

From the day after Hastings the Church is seen establishing herself on

firm basis in the country; she receives as many, and even more domains

than the companions of the Conqueror. In the county of Dorset, for

instance, it appears from Domesday that "the Church with her vassals and

dependents enjoyed more than a third of the whole county, and that her

patrimony was greater than that of all the Barons and greater feudalists

combined."[221]

The religious foundations are innumerable, especially at the beginning;

they decrease as the time of the Renaissance draws nearer. Four hundred

and eighteen are counted from William Rufus to John, a period of one

hundred years; one hundred and thirty-nine during the three following

reigns: a hundred and eight years; twenty-three in the fourteenth

century, and only three in the fifteenth.[222]

This number of monasteries necessitated considerable intercourse with

Rome; many of the monks, often the abbots, were Italian or French; they

had suits in the court of Rome, they laid before the Pope at Rome, and

later at Avignon, their spiritual and temporal difficulties; the most

important abbeys were "exempt," that is to say, under the direct

jurisdiction of the Pope without passing through the local episcopal

authority. This was the case with St. Augustine of Canterbury, St.

Albans, St. Edmund's, Waltham, Evesham, Westminster, &c. The clergy of

England had its eyes constantly turned Romewards.

This clergy was very numerous; in the thirteenth century its ranks were

swelled by the arrival of the mendicant friars: Franciscans and

Dominicans, the latter representing more especially doctrine, and the

former practice. The Dominicans expound dogmas, fight heresy, and

furnish the papacy with its Grand Inquisitors[223]; the Franciscans do

charitable works, nurse lepers and wretches in the suburbs of the towns.

All science that does not tend to the practice of charity is forbidden

them: "Charles the Emperor," said St. Francis, "Roland and Oliver, all

the paladins and men mighty in battle, have pursued the infidels to

death, and won their memorable victories at the cost of much toil and

labour. The holy martyrs died fighting for the faith of Christ. But

there are in our time, people who by the mere telling of their deeds,

seek honour and glory among men. There are also some among you who like

better to preach on the virtues of the saints than to imitate their

labours.... When thou shalt have a psalter so shalt thou wish for a

breviary, and when thou shalt have a breviary, thou shalt sit in a chair

like a great prelate, and say to thy brother: 'Brother, fetch me my

breviary.'"[224]

Thirty-two years after their first coming there were in England twelve

hundred and forty-two Franciscans, with forty-nine convents, divided

into seven custodies: London, York, Cambridge, Bristol, Oxford,

Newcastle, Worcester.[225] "Your Holiness must know," writes Robert

Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln, to Pope Gregory IX., "that the friars

illuminate the whole country by the light of their preaching and

teaching. Intercourse with these holy men propagates scorn of the world

and voluntary poverty.... Oh! could your Holiness see how piously and

humbly the people hasten to hear from them the word of life, to confess

their sins, and learn the rules of good conduct!..."[226] Such was the

beginning; what followed was far from resembling it. The point to be

remembered is another tie with Rome, represented by these new Orders:

even the troubles that their disorders gave rise to later, their

quarrels with the secular clergy, the monks and the University, the

constant appeals to the Pope that were a result of these disputes, the

obstinacy with which they endeavoured to form a Church within the

Church, all tended to increase and multiply the relations between Rome

and England.

The English clergy was not only numerous and largely endowed; it was

also very influential, and played a considerable part in the policy of

the State. When the Parliament was constituted the clergy occupied many

seats, the king's ministers were usually churchmen; the high Chancellor

was a prelate.

The action of the Latin Church made itself also felt on the nation by

means of ecclesiastical tribunals, the powers of which were

considerable; all that concerned clerks, or related to faith and

beliefs, to tithes, to deeds and contracts having a moral character,

wills for instance, came within the jurisdiction of the religious

magistrate. This justice interfered in the private life of the citizens;

it had an inquisitorial character; it wanted to know if good order

reigned in households, if the husband was faithful and the wife

virtuous; it cited adulterers to its bar and chastised them. Summoners

(Chaucer's somnours) played the part of spies and public accusers; they

kept themselves well informed on these different matters, were

constantly on the watch, pried into houses, collected and were supposed

to verify evil reports, and summoned before the ecclesiastical court

those whom Jane's or Gilote's beauty had turned from the path of

conjugal fidelity. It may be readily imagined that such an institution

afforded full scope for abuses; it could hardly have been otherwise

unless all the summoners had been saints, which they were not; some

among them were known to compound with the guilty for money, to call the

innocent before the judge in order to gratify personal spite.[227] Their

misdeeds were well known but not easy to prove; so that Chaucer's

satires did more to ruin the institution than all the petitions to

Parliament. These summoners were also in their own way, mean as that

was, representatives of the Latin country, of the spiritual power of

Rome; they knew it, and made the best of the stray Latin words that had

lodged in their memory; they used them as their shibboleth.

Bishops kept seigneurial retinues, built fortresses[228] and lived in

them, had their archers and their dogs, hunted, laid siege to towns,

made war, and only had recourse to excommunication when all other means

of prevailing over their foes had failed. Others among them became

saints: both in heaven and on earth they held the first rank. Like the

sovereign, they knew, even then, the worth of public opinion; they

bought the goodwill of wandering poets, as that of the press was bought

in the day of Defoe. The itinerant minstrels were the newspapers of the

period; they retailed the news and distributed praise or blame; they

acquired over the common people the same influence that "printed matter"

has had in more recent times. Hugh de Nunant, bishop of Coventry,

accuses William de Longchamp, bishop of Ely, and Chancellor of England,

in a letter still extant, of having inspired the verses--one might

almost say the articles--that minstrels come from France, and paid by

him, told in public places, "in plateis," not without effect, "for

already, according to public opinion, no one in the universe was

comparable to him."[229]

Nothing gives so vivid an impression of the time that has elapsed, and

the transformation in manners that has occurred, as the sight of that

religious and warlike tournament of which England was the field under

Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and of which the heroes were all prelates, to

wit: these same William de Longchamp, bishop of Ely, and Hugh de Nunant,

bishop of Coventry; then Hugh de Puiset, bishop of Durham, Geoffrey

Plantagenet, archbishop of York, &c.

Hugh de Puiset, a scion of the de Puisets, viscounts of Chartres,

grandson of the Conqueror, cousin to King Richard, bishop palatine of

Durham, wears the coat of mail, fortifies his castles, storms those of

his enemies, builds ships, adds a beautiful "Lady chapel" to his

cathedral, and spends the rest of his time in hunting.

William de Longchamp, his great rival, grandson of a Norman peasant,

bishop of Ely, Chancellor of England, seizes on Lincoln by force, lives

like a prince, has an escort of a thousand horsemen, adds to the

fortifications of the Tower of London and stands a siege in it. He is

obliged to give himself up to Hugh de Nunant, another bishop; he escapes

disguised as a woman; he is recognised, imprisoned in a cellar, and

exiled; he then excommunicates his enemies. Fortune smiles on him once

more and he is reinstated in his functions.

Geoffrey Plantagenet, a natural son of Henry II., the only child who

remained always faithful to the old king, had once thought he would

reach the crown, but was obliged to content himself with becoming

archbishop of York. As such, he scorned to ally himself either with

Longchamp or with Puiset, and made war on both impartially. Longchamp

forbids him to leave France; nevertheless Geoffrey lands at Dover, the

castle of which was held by Richenda, sister of the Chancellor. He

mounts on horseback and gallops towards the priory of St. Martin;

Richenda sends after him, and one of the lady's men was putting his hand

on the horse's bridle, when our lord the archbishop, shod with iron,

gave a violent kick to the enemy's steed, and tore his belly open; the

beast reared, and the prelate, freeing himself, reached the priory.

There he is under watch for four days, after which he is dragged from

the very altar, and taken to the castle of Dover. At last he is

liberated, and installed in York; he immediately commences to fight with

his own clergy; he enters the cathedral when vespers are half over; he

interrupts the service, and begins it over again; the indignant

treasurer has the tapers put out, and the archbishop continues his

psalm-singing in the dark. He excommunicates his neighbour Hugh de

Puiset, who is little concerned by it; he causes the chalices used by

the bishop of Durham to be destroyed as profaned.

Hugh de Puiset, who was still riding about, though attacked by the

disease that was finally to carry him off, dies full of years in 1195,

after a _reign_ of forty-three years. He had had several children by

different women: one of them, Henri de Puiset, joined the Crusade;

another, Hugh, remained French, and became Chancellor to King Louis

VII.[230]

These warlike habits are only attenuated by degrees. In 1323 Edward II.

writes to Louis de Beaumont, bishop of Durham, reproaching a noble like

him for not defending his bishopric any better against the Scotch than

if he were a mutterer of prayers like his predecessor. Command is laid

upon bishop Louis to take arms and go and camp on the frontier. In the

second half of the same century, Henry le Despencer, bishop of Norwich,

hacks the peasants to pieces, during the great rising, and makes war in

Flanders for the benefit of one of the two popes.

Side by side with these warriors shine administrators, men of learning,

saints, all important and influential personages in their way. Such

are, for example, Lanfranc, of Pavia, late abbot of St. Stephen at Caen,

who, as archbishop of Canterbury, reorganised the Church of England;

Anselm of Aosta, late abbot of Bec, also an archbishop, canonised at the

Renaissance, the discoverer of the famous "ontological" proof of the

existence of God, a paradoxical proof the inanity of which it was

reserved for St. Thomas Aquinas to demonstrate; Gilbert Foliot, a

Frenchman, bishop of London, celebrated for his science, a strong

supporter of Henry II.; Thomas Becket, of Norman descent, archbishop and

saint, whose quarrel with Henry II. divided England, and almost divided

Christendom too; Hugh, bishop of Lincoln under the same king, of French

origin, and who was also canonised; Stephen Langton, archbishop of

Canterbury, who contributed as much as any of the barons to the granting

of the Great Charter, and presided over the Council of London, in 1218,

where it was solemnly confirmed[231]; Robert Grosseteste,[232] famous

for his learning and holiness, his theological treatises, his sermons,

his commentaries on Boethius and Aristotle, his taste for the divine art

of music, which according to him "drives away devils." Warriors or

saints, all these leaders of men keep, in their difficulties, their eyes

turned towards Rome, and towards the head of the Latin Church.

II.

At the same time as the monasteries, and under the shadow of their

walls, schools and libraries multiplied. The Latin education of the

nation is resumed with an energy and perseverance hitherto unknown, and

this time there will be no relapse into ignorance; protected by the

French conquest, the Latin conquest is now definitive.

Not only are religious books in Latin, psalters, missals and decretals

copied and collected in monasteries, but also the ancient classics. They

are liked, they are known by heart, quoted in writings, and even in

conversation. An English chronicler of the twelfth century declares he

would blush to compile annals after the fashion of the Anglo-Saxons;

this barbarous manner is to be avoided; he will use Roman salt as a

condiment: "et exarata barbarice romano sale condire."[233] Another, of

the same period, has the classic ideal so much before his eyes that he

makes William deliver, on the day of Hastings, a speech beginning: "O

mortalium validissimi!"[234]

A prelate who had been the tutor of the heir to the throne, and died

bishop palatine of Durham, Richard de Bury,[235] collects books with a

passion equal to that which will be later displayed at the court of the

Medici. He has emissaries who travel all over England, France, and Italy

to secure manuscripts for him; with a book one can obtain anything from

him; the abbot of St. Albans, as a propitiatory offering sends him a

Terence, a Virgil, and a Quinctilian. His bedchamber is so encumbered

with books that one can hardly move in it.[236] Towards the end of his

life, never having had but one passion, he undertook to describe it,

and, retired into his manor of Auckland, he wrote in Latin prose his

"Philobiblon."[237] In this short treatise he defends books, Greek and

Roman antiquity, poetry, too, with touching emotion; he is seized with

indignation when he thinks of the crimes of high treason against

manuscripts, daily committed by pupils who in spring dry flowers in

their books; and of the ingratitude of wicked clerks, who admit into the

library dogs, or falcons, or worse still, a two-legged animal, "bestia

bipedalis," more dangerous "than the basilisk, or aspic," who,

discovering the volumes "insufficiently concealed by the protecting web

of a dead spider," condemns them to be sold, and converted for her own

use into silken hoods and furred gowns.[238] Eve's descendants continue,

thinks the bishop, to wrongfully meddle with the tree of knowledge.

What painful commiseration did he not experience on penetrating into an

ill-kept convent library! "Then we ordered the book-presses, chests, and

bags of the noble monasteries to be opened; and, astonished at beholding

again the light of day, the volumes came out of their sepulchres and

their prolonged sleep.... Some of them, which had ranked among the

daintiest, lay for ever spoilt, in all the horror of decay, covered by

filth left by the rats; they who had once been robed in purple and fine

linen now lay on ashes, covered with a cilice."[239] The worthy bishop

looks upon letters with a religious veneration, worthy of the ancients

themselves; his enthusiasm recalls that of Cicero; no one at the

Renaissance, not even the illustrious Bessarion, has praised old

manuscripts with a more touching fervour, or more nearly attained to the

eloquence of the great Latin orator when he speaks of books in his "Pro

Archia": "Thanks to books," says the prelate, "the dead appear to me as

though they still lived.... Everything decays and falls into dust, by

the force of Time; Saturn is never weary of devouring his children, and

the glory of the world would be buried in oblivion, had not God as a

remedy conferred on mortal man the benefit of books.... Books are the

masters that instruct us without rods or ferulas, without reprimands or

anger, without the solemnity of the gown or the expense of lessons. Go

to them, you will not find them asleep; question them, they will not

refuse to answer; if you err, no scoldings on their part; if you are

ignorant, no mocking laughter."[240]

These teachings and these examples bore fruit; in renovated England,

Latin-speaking clerks swarmed. It is often difficult while reading their

works to discover whether they are of native or of foreign extraction;

hates with them are less strong than with the rest of their

compatriots; most of them have studied not only in England but in

Paris; science has made of them cosmopolitans; they belong, above all,

to the Latin country, and the Latin country has not suffered.

The Latin country had two capitals, a religious capital which was Rome,

and a literary capital which was Paris. "In the same manner as the city

of Athens shone in former days as the mother of liberal arts and the

nurse of philosophers, ... so in our times Paris has raised the standard

of learning and civilisation, not only in France but in all the rest of

Europe, and, as the mother of wisdom, she welcomes guests from all parts

of the world, supplies all their wants, and submits them all to her

pacific rule."[241] So said Bartholomew the Englishman in the thirteenth

century. "What a flood of joy swept over my heart," wrote in the

following century another Englishman, that same Richard de Bury, "every

time I was able to visit that paradise of the world, Paris! My stay

there always seemed brief to me, so great was my passion. There were

libraries of perfume more delicious than caskets of spices, orchards of

science ever green...."[242] The University of Paris held without

contest the first rank during the Middle Ages; it counted among its

students, kings, saints, popes, statesmen, poets, learned men of all

sorts come from all countries, Italians like Dante, Englishmen like

Stephen Langton.

Its lustre dates from the twelfth century. At that time a fusion

took place between the theological school of Notre-Dame, where shone,

towards the beginning of the century, Guillaume de Champeaux, and the

schools of logic that Abelard's teaching gave birth to on St.

Genevieve's Mount. This state of things was not created, but

consecrated by Pope Innocent III., a former student at Paris, who

by his bulls of 1208 and 1209 formed the masters and students into

one association, _universitas_.[243]

According to a mediaeval custom, which has been perpetuated in the East,

and is still found for instance at the great University of El Azhar at

Cairo, the students were divided into nations: France, Normandy,

Picardy, England. It was a division by races, and not by countries; the

idea of mother countries politically divided being excluded, in theory

at least, from the Latin realm. Thus the Italians were included in the

French nation, and the Germans in the English one. Of all these

foreigners the English were the most numerous; they had in Paris six

colleges for theology alone.

The faculties were four in number: theology, law, medicine, arts. The

latter, though least in rank, was the most important from the number of

its pupils, and was a preparation for the others. The student of arts

was about fifteen years of age; he passed a first degree called

"determinance" or bachelorship; then a second one, the licence, after

which, in a solemn ceremony termed _inceptio_, the corporation of

masters invested him with the cap, the badge of mastership. He had then,

according to his pledge, to dispute for forty successive days with every

comer; then, still very youthful, and frequently beardless, he himself

began to teach. A master who taught was called a Regent, _Magister

regens_.

The principal schools were situated in the "rue du Fouarre" (straw,

litter), "vico degli Strami," says Dante, a street that still exists

under the same name, but the ancient houses of which are gradually

disappearing. In this formerly dark and narrow street, surrounded by

lanes with names carrying us far back into the past ("rue de la

Parcheminerie," &c), the most illustrious masters taught, and the most

singular disorders arose. The students come from the four corners of

Europe without a farthing, having, in consequence, nothing to lose, and

to whom ample privileges had been granted, did not shine by their

discipline. Neither was the population of the quarter an exemplary

one.[244] We gather from the royal ordinances that the rue du Fouarre,

"vicus ultra parvum pontem, vocatus gallice la rue du Feurre," had to be

closed at night by barriers and chains, because of individuals who had

the wicked habit of establishing themselves at night, with their

_ribaudes_, "mulieres immundae!" in the lecture-rooms, and leaving, on

their departure, by way of a joke, the professor's chair covered with

"horrible" filth. Far from feeling any awe, these evil-doers found, on

the contrary, a special amusement in the idea of perpetrating their

jokes in the _sanctum_ of philosophers, who, says the ordinance of the

wise king Charles V., "should be clean and honest, and inhabit clean,

decent, and honest places."[245]

Teaching, the principal object of which was logic, consisted in the

reading and interpreting of such books as were considered authorities.

"The method in expounding is always the same. The commentator discusses

in a prologue some general questions relating to the work he is about

to lecture upon, and he usually treats of its material, formal, final,

and efficient causes. He points out the principal divisions, takes the

first member of the division, subdivides it, divides the first member of

this subdivision, and thus by a series of divisions, each being

successively cleft into two, he reaches a division which only comprises

the first chapter. He applies to each part of the work the same process

as to its whole. He continues these divisions until he comes to having

before him only one phrase including one single complete idea."

Another not less important part of the instruction given consisted in

oratorical jousts; the masters disputed among themselves, and the pupils

did likewise. In a time when paper was scarce and parchment precious,

disputes replaced our written exercises. The weapons employed in these

jousts were blunt ones; but as in real tournaments where "armes

courtoises" were used, disputants were sometimes carried away by

passion, and the result was a true battle: "They scream themselves

hoarse, they lavish unmannerly expressions, abuse, threats, upon each

other. They even take to cuffing, kicking, and biting."[246]

Under this training, rudimentary though it was, superior minds became

sharpened, they got accustomed to think, to weigh the pros and cons, to

investigate freely; a taste for intellectual things was kept up in them.

The greatest geniuses who had come to study Aristotle on St. Genevieve's

Mount were always proud to call themselves pupils of Paris. But narrow

minds grew there more narrow; they remained, as Rabelais will say later,

foolish and silly, dreaming, stultified things, "tout niais, tout reveux

et rassotes." John of Salisbury, a brilliant scholar of Paris in the

twelfth century, had the curiosity to come, after a long absence, and

see his old companions "that dialectics still detained on St.

Genevieve's Mount." "I found them," he tells us, "just as I had left

them, and at the same point; they had not advanced one step in the art

of solving our ancient questions, nor added to their science the

smallest proposition.... I then clearly saw, what it is easy to

discover, that the study of dialectics, fruitful if employed as a means

to reach the sciences, remain inert and barren if taken as being itself

the object of study."[247]

During this time were developing, on the borders of the Isis and the

Cam, the Universities, so famous since, of Oxford and Cambridge; but

their celebrity was chiefly local, and they never reached the

international reputation of the one at Paris. Both towns had flourishing

schools in the twelfth century; in the thirteenth, these schools were

constituted into a University, on the model of Paris; they were granted

privileges, and the Pope, who would not let slip this opportunity of

intervening, confirmed them.[248]

The rules of discipline, the teaching, and the degrees are the same as

at Paris. The turbulence is just as great; there are incessant battles;

battles between the students of the North and those of the South,

"boreales et australes," between the English and Irish, between the

clerks and the laity. In 1214 some clerks are hung by the citizens of

the town; the Pope's legate instantly makes the power of Rome felt, and

avenges the insult sustained by privileged persons belonging to the

Latin country. During ten years the inhabitants of Oxford shall remit

the students half their rent; they shall pay down fifty-two shillings

each year on St. Nicholas' day, in favour of indigent students; and

they shall give a banquet to a hundred poor students. Even the bill of

fare is settled by the Roman authority: bread, ale, soup, a dish of fish

or of meat; and this for ever. The perpetrators of the hanging shall

come barefooted, without girdle, cloak or hat, to remove their victims

from their temporary resting-place, and, followed by all the citizens,

bury them with their own hands in the place assigned to them in

consecrated ground.

In 1252 the Irish and "Northerners" begin to fight in St. Mary's Church.

They are obliged by authority to appoint twelve delegates, who negotiate

a treaty of peace. In 1313 a prohibition is proclaimed against bearing

names of nations, these distinctions being a constant source of

quarrels. In 1334 such numbers of "Surrois" and "Norrois" clerks are

imprisoned in Oxford Castle after a battle, that the sheriff declares

escapes are sure to occur.[249] In 1354 a student, seated in a tavern,

"in taberna vini," pours a jug of wine over the tavern-keeper's head,

and breaks the jug upon it. Unfortunately the head is broken as well;

the "laity" take the part of the victim, pursue the clerks, kill twenty

of them, and fling their bodies "in latrinas"; they even betake

themselves to the books of the students, and "slice them with knives and

hatchets." During that term "oh! woe! no degrees in Logic were taken at

the University of Oxford."[250] In 1364 war breaks out again between the

citizens and students, "commissum fuit bellum," and lasts four days.

Regulations, frequently renewed, show the nature of the principal

abuses. These laws pronounce: excommunication against the belligerents;

exclusion from the University against those students who harboured

"little women" (_mulierculas_) in their lodgings, major excommunication

and imprisonment against those who amuse themselves by celebrating

bacchanals in churches, masked, disguised, and crowned "with leaves or

flowers"; all this about 1250. The statutes of University Hall, 1292,

prohibit the fellows from fighting, from holding immodest conversations

together, from telling each other love tales, "fubulas de amasiis," and

from singing improper songs.[251]

The lectures bore on Aristotle, Boethius, Priscian, and Donatus; Latin

and French were studied; the fellows were bound to converse together in

Latin; a regulation also prescribed that the scholars should be taught

Latin prosody, and accustomed to write epistles "in decent language,

without emphasis or hyperbole, ... and as much as possible full of

sense."[252] Objectionable passages are to be avoided; Ovid's "Art of

Love" and the book of love by Pamphilus are prohibited.

From the thirteenth century foundations increase in number, both at

Oxford and Cambridge. Now "chests" are created, a kind of pawnbroking

institution for the benefit of scholars; now a college is created like

University College, the most ancient of all, founded by William of

Durham, who died in 1249, or New College, established by the illustrious

Chancellor of Edward III. William of Wykeham. Sometimes books are

bequeathed, as by Richard de Bury and Thomas de Cobham in the fourteenth

century, or by Humphrey of Gloucester, in the fifteenth.[253] The

journey to Paris continues a title to respect, but it is no longer

indispensable.

III.

With these resources at hand, and encouraged by the example of rulers

such as Henry "Beauclerc" and Henry II., the subjects of the kings of

England latinised themselves in great numbers, and produced some of the

Latin writings which enjoyed the widest reputation throughout civilised

Europe. They handle the language with such facility in the twelfth

century, one might believe it to be their mother-tongue; the chief

monuments of English thought at this time are Latin writings. Latin

tales, chronicles, satires, sermons, scientific and medical works,

treatises on style, prose romances, and epics in verse, all kinds of

composition are produced by Englishmen in considerable numbers.

One of them writes a poem in hexameters on the Trojan war, which

doubtless bears traces of barbarism, but more resembles antique models

than any other imitation made in Europe at the time. It was attributed

to Cornelius Nepos, so late even as the Renaissance, though the author,

Joseph of Exeter,[254] who composed it between 1178 and 1183, had

dedicated his work to Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, and mentioned

in it Arthur, "flos regum Arthurus," whose return was still expected by

the Britons, "Britonum ridenda fides." Joseph is acquainted with the

classics; he has read Virgil, and follows to the best of his ability the

precepts of Horace.[255] Differing in this from Benoit de Sainte-More

and his contemporaries, he depicts heroes that are not knights, and who

at their death are not buried in Gothic churches by monks chanting

psalms. This may be accounted a small merit; at that time, however, it

was anything but a common one, and, in truth, Joseph of Exeter alone

possessed it.

In Latin poems of a more modern inspiration, much ingenuity,

observation, sometimes wit, but occasionally only commonplace wisdom,

were expended by Godfrey of Winchester, who composed epigrams about the

commencement of the twelfth century; by Henry of Huntingdon, the

historian who wrote some also; by Alexander Neckham, author of a prose

treatise on the "Natures of Things"; Alain de l'Isle and John de

Hauteville, who both, long before Jean de Meun, made Nature discourse,

"de omni re scibili"[256]; Walter the Englishman, and Odo of Cheriton,

authors in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries of Latin fables,[257]

and last, and above all, by Nigel Wireker, who wrote in picturesque

style and flowing verse the story of Burnellus, the ass whose tail was

too short.[258]

Burnellus, type of the ambitious monk, escapes from his stable, and

wishes to rise in the world. He consults Galen, who laughs at him, and

sends him to Salerno.[259] At Salerno he is again made a fool of, and

provided with elixirs, warranted to make his tail grow to a beautiful

length. But in passing through Lyons on his return, he quarrels with the

dogs of a wicked monk called Fromond; while kicking right and left he

kicks off his vials, which break, while Grimbald, the dog, cuts off half

his tail. A sad occurrence! He revenges himself on Fromond, however, by

drowning him in the Rhone, and, lifting up his voice, he makes then the

valley ring with a "canticle" celebrating his triumph.[260]

What can he do next? It is useless for him to think of attaining

perfection of form; he will shine by his science; he will go to the

University of Paris, that centre of all light; he will become

"Magister," and be appointed bishop. The people will bow down to him as

he passes; it is a dream of bliss, La Fontaine's story of the "Pot au

Lait."

He reaches Paris, and naturally matriculates among the English nation.

He falls to studying; at the end of a year he has been taught many

things, but is only able to say "ya" (semper ya repetit). He continues

to work, scourges himself, follows the lectures for many years, but

still knows nothing but "ya," and remains an ass.[261] What then? He

will found an abbey, the rule of which shall combine the delights of all

the others: it will be possible to gossip there as at Grandmont, to

leave fasting alone as at Cluny, to dress warmly as among the

Premonstrant, and to have a female friend like the secular canons; it

will be a Theleme even before Rabelais.

But suddenly an unexpected personage appears on the scene, the donkey's

master, Bernard the peasant, who had long been on the look-out for him,

and by means of a stick the magister, bishop, mitred abbot, is led back

to his stall.

Not satisfied with the writing of Latin poems, the subjects of the

English kings would construct theories and establish the rules of the

art. It was carrying boldness very far; they did not realise that

theories can only be laid down with safety in periods of maturity, and

that in formulating them too early there is risk of propagating nothing

but the rules of bad taste. This was the case with Geoffrey de Vinesauf,

at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Geoffrey is sure of himself;

he learnedly joins example to precept, he juggles with words; he soars

on high, far above men of good sense. It was with great reason his work

was called the New art of poetry, "Nova Poetria,"[262] for it has

nothing in common with the old one, with Horace's. It is dedicated to

the Pope, and begins by puns on the name of Innocent[263]; it closes

with a comparison between the Pope and God: "Thou art neither God nor

man, but an intermediary being whom God has taken into partnership....

Not wishing to keep all for himself, he has taken heaven and given thee

earth; what could he do better?"[264]

Precepts and examples are in the same style. Geoffrey teaches how to

praise, blame, and ridicule; he gives models of good prosopopoeias;

prosopopoeias for times of happiness: an apostrophe to England

governed by Richard Coeur-de-Lion (we know how well he governed);

prosopopoeia for times of sorrow: an apostrophe to England, whose

sovereign (this same Richard) has been killed on a certain Friday:

"England, of his death thou thyself diest!... O lamentable day of Venus!

O cruel planet! this day has been thy night, this Venus thy venom; by

her wert thou vulnerable!... O woe and more than woe! O death! O

truculent death! O death, I wish thou wert dead! It pleased thee to

remove the sun and to obscure the soil with obscurity!"[265]

Then follow counsels as to the manner of treating ridiculous

people[266]: they come in good time, and we breathe again, but we could

have wished them even more stringent and sweeping. Such exaggerations

make us understand the wisdom of the Oxford regulations prescribing

simplicity and prohibiting emphasis; the more so if we consider that

Geoffrey did not innovate, but merely turned into rules the tastes of

many. Before him men of comparatively sound judgment, like Joseph of

Exeter, forgot themselves so far as to apostrophise in these terms the

night in which Troy was taken: "O night, cruel night! night truly

noxious! troublous, sorrowful, traitorous, sanguinary night!"[267] &c.

IV.

The series of Latin prose authors of that epoch, grave or facetious,

philosophers, moralists, satirists, historians, men of science, romance

and tale writers, is still more remarkable in England than that of the

poets. Had they only suspected the importance of the native language

and left Latin, several of them would have held a very high rank in the

national literature.

Romance is represented by Geoffrey of Monmouth, who in the twelfth

century wrote his famous "Historia Regum Britanniae," the influence of

which in England and on the Continent has already been seen. Prose tales

were written in astonishing quantities, in the twelfth and thirteenth

centuries, by those pious authors who, under pretext of edifying and

amusing their readers at the same time, began by amusing, and frequently

forgot to edify. They put into their collections all they knew in the

way of legends, jokes, and facetious stories. England produced several

such collections; their authors usually add a moral to their tales, but

sometimes omit it, or else they simply say: "Moralise as thou wilt!"

In these innumerable well-told tales, full of sprightly dialogue, can be

already detected something of the art of the _conteur_ which will appear

in Chaucer, and something almost of the art of the novelist, destined

five hundred years later to reach such a high development in England.

The curiosity of the Celt, reawakened by the Norman, is perpetuated in

Great Britain; stories are doted on there. "It is the custom," says an

English author of the thirteenth century, "in rich families, to spend

the winter evenings around the fire, telling tales of former

times...."[268]

Subjects for tales were not lacking. The last researches have about made

it certain that the immense "Gesta Romanorum," so popular in the Middle

Ages, were compiled in England about the end of the thirteenth

century.[269] The collection of the English Dominican John of Bromyard,

composed in the following century, is still more voluminous. Some idea

can be formed of it from the fact that the printed copy preserved at the

National Library of Paris weighs fifteen pounds.[270]

Everything is found in these collections, from mere jokes and happy

retorts to real novels. There are coarse fabliaux in their embryonic

stage, objectionable tales where the frail wife derides the injured

husband, graceful stories, miracles of the Virgin. We recognise in

passing some fable that La Fontaine has since made famous, episodes out

of the "Roman de Renart," anecdotes drawn from Roman history, adventures

that, transformed and remodelled, have at length found their definitive

rendering in Shakespeare's plays.

All is grist that comes to the mill of these authors; their stories are

of French, Latin, English, Hindu origin. It is plain, however, that they

write for Englishmen from the fact that many of their stories are

localised in England, and that quotations in English are here and there

inserted into the tale.[271]

In turning the pages of these voluminous works, glimpses will be caught

of the Wolf, the Fox, and Tybert the cat; the Miller, his son and the

Ass; the Women and the Secret (instead of eggs, it is here a question of

"exceedingly black crows"); the Rats who wish to hang a bell about the

Cat's neck. Many tales, fabliaux, and short stories will be recognised

that have become popular under their French, English, or Italian shape,

such as the lay of the "Oiselet,"[272] the "Chienne qui pleure," or the

Weeping Bitch, the lay of Aristotle, the Geese of Friar Philip, the Pear

Tree, the Hermit who got drunk. Some of them are very indecent, but they

were not left out of the collections on that account, any more than

miniaturists were forbidden to paint on the margins of holy, or almost

holy books, scenes that were far from being so. A manuscript of the

decretals, for example, painted in England at the beginning of the

fourteenth century, exhibits a series of drawings illustrating some of

these stories, and meant to fit an obviously unexpurgated text.[273]

The Virgin plays her usual part of an indulgent protectress; the

story-tellers strangely deviate from the sacred type set before them in

the Scriptures. They represent her as the Merciful One whose patience no

crime can exhaust, and whose goodwill is enlisted by the slightest act

of homage. She is transformed and becomes in their hands an

intermediate being between a saint, a goddess, and a fairy. The

sacristan-nun of a convent, beautiful as may be believed, falls in love

with a clerk, doubtless a charming one, and, unable to live without him,

"throws her keys on the altar, and roves with her friend for five years

outside the monastery." Passing by the place at the end of that time,

she is impelled by curiosity to go to the convent and inquire concerning

herself, the sacristan-nun of former years. To her great surprise she

hears that the sister continues there, and edifies the whole community

by her piety. At night, while she sleeps, the Virgin appears to her in a

vision, saying: "Return, unfortunate one, to thy convent! It is I who,

assuming thy shape, have fulfilled thy duties until now."[274] A

conversion of course follows. A professional thief, who robbed and did

nothing besides, "always invoked the Virgin with great devotion, even

when he set out to steal."[275] He is caught and hanged; but the Virgin

herself holds him up, and keeps him alive; he is taken down, and turns

monk.

Another tale, of a romantic turn, is at once charming, absurd, immoral,

edifying, and touching: "Celestinus reigned in the City of Rome. He was

exceedingly prudent, and had a pretty daughter."[276] A knight fell in

love with her, but, being also very prudent after a fashion, he argued

thus: "Never will the emperor consent to give me his daughter to wife, I

am not worthy; but if I could in some manner obtain the love of the

maiden, I should ask for no more." He went often to see the princess,

and tried to find favour in her eyes, but she said to him: "Thy trouble

is thrown away; thinkest thou I know not what all these fine speeches

mean?"

He then offers money: "It will be a hundred marks," says the emperor's

daughter. But when evening comes the knight falls into such a deep sleep

that he only awakes on the following morning. The knight ruins himself

in order to obtain the same favour a second time, and succeeds no better

than at first. He has spent all he had, and, more in love than ever, he

journeys afar to seek a lender. He arrives "in a town where were many

merchants, and a variety of philosophers, among them master Virgil." A

merchant, a man of singular humour, agrees to lend the money; he refuses

to take the lands of the young man as a security; "but thou shalt sign

with thy blood the bond, and if thou dost not return the entire sum on

the appointed day, I shall have the right to remove with a

well-sharpened knife all the flesh off thy body."

The knight signs in haste, for he is possessed by his passion, and he

goes to consult Virgil. "My good master," he says, using the same

expression as Dante, "I need your advice;" and Virgil then reveals to

him the existence of a talisman, sole cause of his irresistible desire

to sleep. The knight returns with speed to the strange palace inhabited

by the still stranger daughter of this so "prudent" emperor; he removes

the talisman, and is no longer overpowered by sleep.

To many tears succeeds a mutual affection, so true, so strong,

accompanied by so much happiness, that both forget the fatal date.

However, start he must. "Go," says the maiden, "and offer him double, or

treble the sum; offer him all the gold he wishes; I will procure it for

thee." He arrives, he offers, but the merchant refuses: "Thou speakest

in vain! Wert thou to offer me all the wealth of the city, nothing would

I accept but what has been signed, sealed, and settled between us."

They go before the judge; the sentence is not a doubtful one.

The maiden, however, kept herself well informed of all that went on,

and, seeing the turn affairs were taking, "she cut her hair, donned a

rich suit of men's clothes, mounted a palfrey, and set out for the

palace where her lover was about to hear his sentence." She asks to be

allowed to defend the knight. "But nothing can be done," says the judge.

She offers money to the merchant, which he refuses; she then exclaims:

"Let it be done as he desires; let him have the flesh, and nothing but

the flesh; the bond says nothing of the blood." Hearing this, the

merchant replies: "Give me my money and I hold you clear of the rest."

"Not so," said the maiden. The merchant is confounded, the knight

released; the maiden returns home hurriedly, puts on her female attire,

and hastens out to meet her lover, eager to hear all that has passed.

"O my dear mistress, that I love above all things, I nearly lost my life

this day; but as I was about to be condemned, suddenly appeared a knight

of an admirable presence, so handsome that I never saw his like." How

could she, at these words, prevent her sparkling eyes from betraying

her? "He saved me by his wisdom, and nought had I even to pay.

"_The Maiden._--Thou might'st have been more generous, and brought home

to supper the knight who had saved thy life.

"_The Knight._--He appeared and disappeared so suddenly I could not.

"_The Maiden._--Would'st thou recognise him again if he returned?

"_The Knight._--I should, assuredly."[277]

She then puts on again her male attire, and it is easy to imagine with

what transports the knight beheld his saviour in his friend. The end of

this first outline of a "Merchant of Venice" is not less naive,

picturesque, and desultory than the rest: "Thereupon he immediately

married the maiden," and they led saintly lives. We are not told what

the prudent emperor Celestinus thought of this "immediately."

Next to these compilers whose works became celebrated, but whose names

for the most part remained concealed, were professional authors, who

were and wanted to be known, and who enjoyed a great personal fame.

Foremost among them were John of Salisbury and Walter Map.

John of Salisbury,[278] a former pupil of Abelard, a friend of St.

Bernard, Thomas Becket, and the English Pope Adrian IV., the envoy of

Henry II. to the court of Rome, which he visited ten times in twelve

years, writes in Latin his "Policratic,"[279] or "De nugis Curialium,"

his "Metalogic," his "Enthetic" (in verse), and his eulogy on

Becket.[280] John is only too well versed in the classics, and he

quotes them to an extent that does more credit to his erudition than to

his taste; but he has the gift of observation, and his remarks on the

follies of his time have a great historical value. In his "Policratic"

is found a satire on a sort of personage who was then beginning to play

his part again, after an interruption of several centuries, namely, the

_curialis_, or courtier; a criticism on histrions who, with their

indecent farces, made a rough prelude to modern dramatic art; a

caricature of those fashionable singers who disgraced the religious

ceremonies in the newly erected cathedrals by their songs resembling

those "of women ... of sirens ... of nightingales and parrots."[281] He

ridicules hunting-monks, and also those chiromancers for whom Becket

himself had a weakness. "Above all," says John, by way of conclusion and

apology, "let not the men of the Court upbraid me with the follies I

trust them with; let them know I did not mean them in the least, I

satirised only myself and those like me, and it would be hard indeed if

I were forbidden to castigate both myself and my peers."[282] In his

"Metalogic," he scoffs at the vain dialectics of silly logicians,

Cornificians, as he calls them, an appellation that stuck to them all

through the Middle Ages, and at their long phrases interlarded with so

many negative particles that, in order to find out whether yes or no was

meant, it became necessary to examine if the number of noes was an odd

or even one.

Bold ideas abound with John of Salisbury; he praises Brutus; he is of

opinion that the murder of tyrants is not only justifiable, but an

honest and commendable deed: "Non modo licitum est, sed aequum et

justum." Whatever may be the apparent prosperity of the great, the State

will go to ruin if the common people suffer: "When the people suffer, it

is as though the sovereign had the gout"[283]; he must not imagine he is

in health; let him try to walk, and down he falls.

Characteristics of the same sort are found, with much more sparkling

wit, in the Latin works of Walter Map.[284] This Welshman has the

vivacity of the Celts his compatriots; he was celebrated at the court of

Henry II., and throughout England for his repartees and witticisms, so

celebrated indeed that he himself came to agree to others' opinion, and

thought them worth collecting. He thus formed a very bizarre book,

without beginning or end, in which he noted, day by day,[285] all the

curious things he had heard--"ego verbum audivi"--and with greater

abundance those he had said, including a great many puns. Thus it

happens that certain chapters of his "De Nugis Curialium," a title that

the work owes to the success of John of Salisbury's, are real novels,

and have the smartness of such; others are real fabliaux, with all their

coarseness; others are scenes of comedy, with dialogues, and indications

of characters as in a play[286]; others again are anecdotes of the East,

"quoddam mirabile," told on their return by pilgrims or crusaders.

Like John of Salisbury, Map had studied in Paris, fulfilled missions to

Rome, and known Becket; but he shared neither his sympathy for France,

nor his affection for St. Bernard. In the quarrel which sprung up

between the saint and Abelard, he took the part of the latter. Though he

belonged to the Church, he is never weary of sneering at the monks, and

especially at the Cistercians; he imputes to St. Bernard abortive

miracles. "Placed," says Map, "in the presence of a corpse, Bernard

exclaimed: 'Walter, come forth!'--But Walter, as he did not hear the

voice of Jesus, so did he not listen with the ears of Lazarus, and came

not."[287] Women also are for Map the subject of constant satires; he

was the author of that famous "Dissuasio Valerii ad Rufinum de ducenda

uxore,"[288] well known to the Wife of Bath and which the Middle Ages

persistently attributed to St. Jerome. Map had asserted his authorship

and stated that he had written the dissertation "changing only our

names," assuming for himself the name of Valerius "me qui Walterus sum,"

and calling his uxorious friend Rufinus because he was red-haired. But

it was of no avail, and St. Jerome continued to be the author, in the

same way as Cornelius Nepos was credited with having written Joseph of

Exeter's "Trojan War," dedicated though it was to the archbishop of

Canterbury. Map is very strong in his advice to his red-haired friend,

who "was bent upon being married, not loved, and aspired to the fate of

Vulcan, not of Mars."

As a compensation many poems in Latin and French were attributed to Map,

of doubtful authenticity. That he wrote verses and was famous as a poet

there is no question, but what poems were his we do not know for

certain. To him was ascribed most of the "Goliardic" poetry current in

the Middle Ages, so called on account of the principal personage who

figures in it, Golias, the type of the gluttonous and debauched prelate.

Some of those poems were merry songs full of humour and _entrain_,

perfectly consistent with what we know of Map's fantasy: "My supreme

wish is to die in the tavern! May my dying lips be wet with wine! So

that on their coming the choirs of angels will exclaim: 'God be merciful

to this drinker!'"[289] Doubts exist also as to what his French poems

were; most of his jokes and repartees were delivered in French, as we

know from the testimony of Gerald de Barry,[290] but what he wrote in

that language is uncertain. The "Lancelot" is assigned to him in many

manuscripts and is perhaps his work.[291]

V.

The subjects of the Angevin kings also took part in the scientific

movement. In the ranks of their literary men using the Latin language

are jurists, physicians, savants, historians, theologians, and, among

the latter, some of the most famous doctors of the Middle Ages:

Alexander of Hales, the "irrefragable doctor"[292]; Duns Scot, the

"subtle doctor"; Adam de Marisco, friend and adviser of Simon de

Montfort, the "illustrious doctor"; Ockham, the "invincible doctor";

Roger Bacon, the "admirable doctor"; Bradwardine, the "profound doctor,"

and yet others.

Scot discusses the greatest problems of soul and matter, and amid many

contradictions, and much obscurity, arrives at this conclusion, that

matter is one: "Socrates and the brazen sphere are identical in nature."

He almost reaches this further conclusion, that "being is one."[293] His

reputation is immense during the Middle Ages; it diminishes at the

Renaissance, and Rabelais, drawing up a list of some remarkable books in

St. Victor's library, inscribes on it, between the "Maschefaim des

Advocats" and the "Ratepenade des Cardinaux," the works of the subtle

doctor under the irreverent title of "Barbouillamenta Scoti."[294]

Ockham, in the pay of Philippe-le-Bel--for England, that formerly had to

send for Lanfranc and Anselm, can now furnish the Continent with

doctors--makes war on Boniface VIII., and, drawing his arguments from

both St. Paul and Aristotle, attacks the temporal power of the

popes.[295] Roger Bacon endeavours to clear up the chaos of the

sciences; he forestalls his illustrious namesake, and classifies the

causes of human errors.[296] Archbishop Bradwardine,[297] who died in

the great plague of 1349, restricts himself to theology, and in a book

famous during the Middle Ages, defends the "Cause of God" against all

sceptics, heretics, infidels, and miscreants, confuting them all, and

even Aristotle himself.[298]

No longer is Salerno alone to produce illustrious physicians, or Bologne

illustrious jurists. A "Rosa Anglica," the work of John of Gaddesden,

court physician under Edward II., has the greatest success in learned

Europe, and teaches how the stone can be cured by rubbing the invalid

with a paste composed of crickets and beetles pounded together, "but

taking care to first remove the heads and wings."[299] A multitude of

prescriptions, of the same stamp most of them, are set down in this

book, which was still printed and considered as an authority at the

Renaissance.

Bartholomew the Englishman,[300] another savant, yet more universal and

more celebrated, writes one of the oldest encyclopedias. His Latin book,

translated into several languages, and of which there are many very

beautiful manuscripts,[301] comprises everything, from God and the

angels down to beasts. Bartholomew teaches theology, philosophy,

geography, and history, the natural sciences, medicine, worldly

civility, and the art of waiting on table. Nothing is too high, or too

low, or too obscure for him; he is acquainted with the nature of angels,

as well as with that of fleas: "Fleas bite more sharply when it is going

to rain." He knows about diamonds, "stones of love and reconciliation";

and about man's dreams "that vary according to the variation of the

fumes that enter into the little chamber of his phantasy"; and about

headaches that arise from "hot choleric vapours, full of ventosity"; and

about the moon, that, "by the force of her dampness, sets her

impression in the air and engenders dew"; and about everything in fact.

The jurists are numerous; through them again the action of Rome upon

England is fortified. Even those among them who are most bent upon

maintaining the local laws and traditions, have constantly to refer to

the ancient law-makers and commentators; Roman law is for them a sort of

primordial and common treasure, open to all, and wherewith to fill the

gaps of the native legislation. The first lessons had been given after

the Conquest by foreigners: the Italian Vacarius, brought by Theobald,

Archbishop of Canterbury, had professed law at Oxford in 1149.[302] Then

Anglo-Normans and English begin to codify and interpret their laws; they

write general treatises; they collect precedents; and so well do they

understand the utility of precedents that these continue to have in

legal matters, up to this day, an importance which no other nation has

credited them with. Ralph Glanville, Chief Justice under Henry II.,

writes or inspires a "Treatise of the laws and customs of England"[303];

Richard, bishop of London, compiles a "Dialogue of the Exchequer,"[304]

full of wisdom, life, and even a sort of humour; Henry of Bracton,[305]

the most renowned of all, logician, observer, and thinker, composes in

the thirteenth century an ample treatise, of which several

abridgments[306] were afterwards made for the convenience of the judges,

and which is still consulted.

In the monasteries, the great literary occupation consists in the

compiling of chronicles. Historians of Latin tongue abounded in mediaeval

England, nearly every abbey had its own. A register was prepared, with a

loose leaf at the end, "scedula," on which the daily events were

inscribed in pencil, "cum plumbo." At the end of the year the appointed

chronicler, "non quicumque voluerit, sed cui injunctum fuerit," shaped

these notes into a continued narrative, adding his remarks and comments,

and inserting the entire text of the official documents sent by

authority for the monastery to keep, according to the custom of the

time.[307] In other cases, of rarer occurrence, a chronicle was compiled

by some monk who, finding the life in cloister very dull, the offices

very long, and the prayers somewhat monotonous, used writing as a means

of resisting temptations and ridding himself of vain thoughts and the

remembrance of a former worldly life.[308] Thus there exists an almost

uninterrupted series of English chronicles, written in Latin, from the

Conquest to the Renaissance. The most remarkable of these series is that

of the great abbey of St. Albans, founded by Offa, a contemporary of

Charlemagne, and rebuilt by Paul, a monk of Caen, who was abbot in 1077.

Most of these chronicles are singularly impartial; the authors freely

judge the English and the French, the king and the people, the Pope,

Harold and William. They belong to that Latin country and that religious

world which had no frontiers. The cleverest among them are remarkable

for their knowledge of the ancients, for the high idea they conceive,

from the twelfth century on, of the historical art, and for the pains

they take to describe manners and customs, to draw portraits and to

preserve the memory of curious incidents. Thus shone, in the twelfth

century, Orderic Vital, author of an "Ecclesiastical History" of

England[309]; Eadmer, St. Anselm's biographer[310]; Gerald de Barry,

otherwise Geraldus Cambrensis; a fiery, bragging Welshman, who exhibited

both in his life and works the temperament of a Gascon[311]; William of

Malmesbury,[312] Henry of Huntingdon,[313] &c.

These two last have a sort of passion for their art, and a deep

veneration for the antique models. William of Malmesbury is especially

worthy of remembrance and respect. Before beginning to write, he had

collected a multitude of books and testimonies; after writing he looks

over and revises his text; he never considers, with famous Abbe Vertot,

that "son siege est fait," that it is too late to mend. He is alive to

the interest offered for the historian by the customs of the people, and

by these characteristic traits, scarcely perceptible sometimes, which

are nevertheless landmarks in the journey of mankind towards

civilisation. His judgments are appreciative and thoughtful; he does

something to keep awake the reader's attention, and notes down, with

this view, many anecdotes, some of which are excellent prose tales.

Seven hundred years before Merimee, he tells in his own way the story of

the "Venus d'Ille."[314] He does not reach the supreme heights of art,

but he walks in the right way; he does not know how to blend his hues,

as others have done since, so as to delight the eye with many-coloured

sights; but he already paints in colours. To please his reader, he

suddenly and naively says: "Now, I will tell you a story. Once upon a

time...." But if he has not been able to skilfully practice latter-day

methods, it is something to have tried, and so soon recognised the

excellence of them.

In the thirteenth century rose above all others Matthew Paris,[315] an

English monk of the Abbey of St. Albans, who in his sincerity and

conscientiousness, and in his love for the historical art, resembles

William of Malmesbury. He, too, wants to interest; a skilful

draughtsman, "pictor peroptimus,"[316] he illustrates his own

manuscripts; he depicts scenes of religious life, a Gothic shrine

carried by monks, which paralytics endeavour to touch, an architect

receiving the king's orders, an antique gem of the treasury of St.

Albans which, curiously enough, the convent lent pregnant women in order

to assist them in child-birth; a strange animal, little known in

England: "a certain elephant,"[317] drawn from nature, with a replica of

his trunk in another position, "the first, he says, that had been seen

in the country."[318] The animal came from Egypt, and was a gift from

Louis IX. of France to Henry III. Matthew notes characteristic details

showing what manners were; he gives great attention to foreign affairs,

and also collects anecdotes, for instance, of the wandering Jew, who

still lived in his time, a fact attested in his presence by an

Archbishop of Armenia, who came to St. Albans in 1228. The porter of the

praetorium struck Jesus saying: "Go on faster, go on; why tarriest thou?"

Jesus, turning, looked at him with a stern countenance and replied: "I

go on, but thou shalt tarry till I come." Since then Cartaphilus

tarries, and his life begins again with each successive century. Matthew

profits by the same occasion to find out about Noah's ark, and informs

us that it was still to be seen, according to the testimony of this

prelate, in Armenia.[319]

In the fourteenth century the most illustrious chroniclers were Ralph

Higden, whose Universal History became a sort of standard work, was

translated into English, printed at the Renaissance, and constantly

copied and quoted[320]; Walter of Hemingburgh, Robert of Avesbury,

Thomas Walsingham,[321] not to mention many anonymous authors. Several

among the historians of that date, and Walsingham in particular, would,

on account of the dramatic vigour of their pictures, have held a

conspicuous place in the literature of mediaeval England had they not

written in Latin, like their predecessors.[322]

From these facts, and from this ample, many-coloured literary growth,

may be gathered how complete the transformation was, and how strong the

intellectual ties with Rome and Paris had become; also how greatly the

inhabitants of England now differed from those Anglo-Saxons, that the

victors of Hastings had found "agrestes et pene illiteratos," according

to the testimony of Orderic Vital. Times are changed: "The admirable

Minerva visits human nations in turn ... she has abandoned Athens, she

has quitted Rome, she withdraws from Paris; she has now come to this

island of Britain, the most remarkable in the world; nay more, itself an

epitome of the world."[323] Thus could speak concerning his country,

about the middle of the fourteenth century, when the results of the

attempted experiment were certain and manifest, that great lover of

books, a late student at Paris, who had been a fervent admirer of the

French capital, Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham.

FOOTNOTES:

[220] "Volentes nos ipsos humiliare pro Illo Qui Se pro nobis humiliavit

usque ad mortem ... offerimus et libere concedimus Deo et ... domino

nostro papae Innocentio ejusque catholicis successoribus, totum regnum

Angliae et totum regnum Hiberniae, cum omni jure et pertinentiis suis, pro

remissione peccatorum nostrorum." Hereupon follows the pledge to pay for

ever to the Holy See "mille marcas sterlingorum," and then the oath of

fealty to the Pope as suzerain of England. Stubbs, "Select Charters,"

Oxford, 1876, 3rd ed., pp. 284 ff.

[221] R. W. Eyton, "A key to Domesday, showing the Method and Exactitude

of its Mensuration ... exemplified by ... the Dorset Survey," London,

1878, 4to, p. 156.

[222] "Historical maps of England during the first thirteen centuries,"

by C. H. Pearson, London, 1870, fol. p. 61.

[223] Concerning their power and the part they played, see for example

the confirmation by Philip VI. of France, in November, 1329, of the

regulations submitted to him by that "religious and honest person, friar

Henri de Charnay, of the order of Preachers, inquisitor on the crime of

heresy, sent in that capacity to our kingdom and residing in

Carcassonne." Sentences attain not only men, but even houses; the king

orders: "_Premierement_, quod domus, plateae et loca in quibus haereses

fautae fuerunt, diruantur et nunquam postea reedificentur, sed perpetuo

subjaceant in sterquilineae vilitati," &c. Isambert's "Recueil des

anciennes Lois," vol. iv. p. 364.

[224] "Speculum vitae B. Francisci et sociorum ejus," opera Fratris G.

Spoelberch, Antwerp, 1620, 8vo, part i. chap. iv.

[225] Brewer and Howlett, "Monumenta Franciscana," Rolls, 1858-82, 8vo,

vol. i. p. 10.

[226] Letter of the year 1238 or thereabout; "Roberti Grosseteste

Epistolae," ed. Luard, Rolls, 1861, p. 179.

[227]

A bettre felaw sholde men noght finde,

He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn,

A good felawe to have his concubyn

A twelf-month and excuse him atte fulle.

Prologue of the "Canterbury Tales." The name of summoner was held in

little esteem, and no wonder:

"Artow thanne a bailly?"--"Ye," quod he;

He dorste nat for verray filthe and shame

Seye that he was a somnour for the name."

("Freres Tale," l. 94.)

[228] They built a good many. Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, after having

been a parish priest at Caen, first tried his hand as a builder, in

erecting castles; he built some at Newark, Sleaford, and Banbury. He

then busied himself with holier work and endowed Lincoln Cathedral with

its stone vault. This splendid church had been begun on a spot easy to

defend by another French bishop, Remi, formerly monk at Fecamp:

"Mercatis igitur praediis, in ipso vertice urbis juxta castellum turribus

fortissimis eminens, in loco forti fortem, pulchro pulchrum, virgini

virgineam construxit ecclesiam; quae et grata esset Deo servientibus et,

ut pro tempore oportebat, invincibilis hostibus." Henry of Huntingdon,

"Historia Anglorum," Rolls, p. 212.

[229] "Epistola Hugonis ... de dejectione Willelmi Eliensis episcopi

Regis cancellarii," in Hoveden, "Chronica," ed. Stubbs, Rolls, vol. iii.

p. 141, year 1191: "Hic ad augmentum et famam sui nominis, emendicata

carmina et rhythmos adulatorios comparabat, et de regno Francorum

cantores et joculatores muneribus allexerat, ut de illo canerent in

plateis: et jam dicebatur ubique, quod non erat talis in orbe." See

below, pp. 222, 345.

[230] See Stubbs, Introductions to the "Chronica Magistri Rogeri de

Hovedene." Rolls, 1868, 4 vols. 8vo, especially vols. iii. and iv.

[231] Lanfranc, 1005?-1089, archbishop in 1070; "Opera quae supersunt,"

ed. Giles, Oxford, 1843, 2 vols. 8vo.--St. Anselm, 1033-1109, archbishop

of Canterbury in 1093; works ("Monologion," "Proslogion," "Cur Deus

homo," &c.) in Migne's "Patrologia," vol. clviii. and clix.--Stephen

Langton, born ab. 1150, of a Yorkshire family, archbishop in 1208, d.

1228.

[232] A declared supporter of the Franciscans, and an energetic censor

of the papal court, bishop of Lincoln 1235-53, has left a vast number of

writings, and enjoyed considerable reputation for his learning and

sanctity. His letters have been edited by Luard, "Roberti Grosseteste

... Epistolae," London, 1861, Rolls. See below, p. 213. Roger Bacon

praised highly his learned works, adding, however: "quia Graecum et

Hebraeum non scivit sufficienter ut per se transferret, sed habuit multos

adjutores." "Rogeri Bacon Opera ... inedita," ed. Brewer, 1859, Rolls,

p. 472.

[233] "Gesta Regum Anglorum," by William of Malmesbury, ed. Hardy, 1840,

"Prologus." He knew well the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" and used it: "Sunt

sane quaedam vetustatis indicia chronico more et patrio sermone, per

annos Domini ordinata," p. 2.

[234] "Henrici archidiaconi Huntendunensis Historia Anglorum," Rolls,

1879, p. 201.

[235] He derived his name from Bury St. Edmund's, near which he was born

on January 24, 1287. He was the son of Sir Richard Aungerville, Knight,

whose ancestors had come to England with the Conqueror. He became the

king's receiver in Gascony, fulfilled missions at Avignon in 1330 when

he met Petrarca ("vir adentis ingenii," says Petrarca of him), and in

1333. He became in this year bishop of Durham, against the will of the

chapter, who had elected Robert de Graystanes, the historian. He was

lord Treasurer, then high Chancellor in 1334-5, discharged new missions

on the Continent, followed Edward III. on his expedition of 1338, and

died in 1345.

[236] See "Registrum Palatinum Dunelmense," ed. Hardy, Rolls, vol. iii.

Introduction, p. cxlvi.

[237] The best edition is that given by E. C. Thomas, "The Philobiblon

of Richard de Bury," London, 1888, 8vo, Latin text with an English

translation. The Introduction contains a biography in which some current

errors have been corrected, and notes on the various MSS. According to

seven MSS. the "Philobiblon" would be the work of Robert Holkot, and not

of Richard de Bury, but this appears to be a mistaken attribution.

[238] "Occupant etenim," the books are represented to say, "loca nostra,

nunc canes, nunc aves, nunc bestia bipedalis, cujus cohabitatio cum

clericis vetabatur antiquitus, a qua semper, super aspidem et basilicum

alumnos nostros docuimus esse fugiendum.... Ista nos conspectos in

angulo, jam defunctae araneae de sola tela protectos ... mox in capitogia

pretiosa ... vestes et varias furraturas ... nos consulit commutandos"

(chap. iv. p. 32).

[239] Chap. viii. p. 66.

[240] Chap. i. pp. 11, 13.

[241] "Sicut quondam Athenarum civitas mater liberalium artium et

literarum, philosophorum nutrix et fons omnium scientiarum Graeciam

decoravit, sic Parisiae nostris temporibus, non solum Franciam imo totius

Europae partem residuam in scientia et in moribus sublimarunt. Nam velut

sapientiae mater, de omnibus mundi partibus advenientes recolligunt,

omnibus in necessariis subveniunt, pacifice omnes regunt...."

"Bartholomaei Anglici De ... Rerum ... Proprietatibus Libri xviii.," ed.

Pontanus, Francfort, 1609, 8vo. Book xv. chap. 57, "De Francia," p. 653.

[242] "Philobiblon," ed. Thomas, chap. viii. p. 69. _Cf._ Neckham, "De

Naturis Rerum," chap. clxxiv. (Rolls, 1863, p. 311).

[243] On the old University of Paris, see Ch. Thurot's excellent essay:

"De l'organisation de l'enseignement dans l'Universite de Paris au moyen

age," Paris, 1850, 8vo. The four nations, p. 16; the English nation, p.

32; its colleges, p. 28; the degrees in the faculty of arts, pp. 43 ff.

[244] Their servants were of course much worse in every way; they lived

upon thefts, and had even formed on this account an association with a

captain at their head: "Cum essem Parisius audivi quod garciones

servientes scholarium, qui omnes fere latrunculi solent esse, habebant

quendam magistrum qui pinceps erat hujus modi latrocinii." Th. Wright,

"Latin stories from MSS. of the XIIIth and XIVth Centuries," London,

1842, tale No. cxxv.

[245] May, 1358, in Isambert's "Recueil des anciennes Lois," vol. v. p.

26.

[246] Thurot, _ut supra_, pp. 73, 89.

[247] In his "Metalogicus," "Opera Omnia," ed. Giles, Oxford, 1848, 5

vols. 8vo, vol. v. p. 81.

[248] Innocent IV. confirms (ab. 1254) all the "immunitates et

laudabiles, antiquas, rationabiles consuetudines" of Oxford: "Nulli ergo

hominum liceat hanc paginam nostrae protectionis infringere vel ausu

temerario contraire." "Munimenta Academica, or documents illustrative of

academical life and studies at Oxford," ed. Anstey, 1868, Rolls, 2 vols.

8vo, vol. i. p. 26. _Cf._ W. E. Gladstone, "An Academic Sketch," Oxford,

1892.

[249] "Rolls of Parliament," 8 Ed. III. vol. ii. p. 76.

[250] Robert of Avesbury (a contemporary, he died ab. 1357), "Historia

Edvardi tertii," ed. Hearne, Oxford, 1720, 8vo, p. 197.

[251] "Vivant omnes honeste, ut clerici, prout decet sanctos, non

pugnantes, non scurrilia vel turpia loquentes, non cantilenas sive

falulas de amasiis vel luxuriosis, aut ad libidinem sonantibus

narrantes, cantantes aut libenter audientes." "Munimenta Academica," i.

p. 60.

[252] Regulation of uncertain date belonging to the thirteenth (or more

probably to the fourteenth) century, concerning pupils in grammar

schools; they will be taught prosody, and will write verses and

epistles: "Literas compositas verbis decentibus, non ampullosis aut

sesquipedalibus et quantum possint sententia refertis." They will learn

Latin, English, and French "in gallico ne lingua illa penitus sit

omissa." "Munimenta Academica," i. p. 437.

[253] Another sign of the times consists in the number of episcopal

letters authorizing ecclesiastics to leave their diocese and go to the

University. Thus, for example, Richard de Kellawe, bishop of Durham,

1310-16, writes to Robert de Eyrum: "Quum per viros literatos Dei

consuevit Ecclesia venustari, cupientibus in agro studii laborare et

acquirere scientiae margaritam ... favorem libenter et gratiam impertimus

... ut in loco ubi generale viget studium, a data praesentium usque in

biennium revolutum morari valeas." "Registrum Palatinum Dunelmense," ed.

Hardy, Rolls, 1873, 4 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 288 (many other similar

letters).

[254] Josephus Exoniensis, or Iscanus, followed Archbishop Baldwin to

the crusade in favour of which this prelate had delivered the sermons,

and undertaken the journey in Wales described by Gerald de Barry. Joseph

sang the expedition in a Latin poem, "Antiocheis," of which a few lines

only have been preserved. In his Trojan poem he follows, as a matter of

course, Dares; the work was several times printed in the Renaissance and

since: "Josephi Iscani ... De Bello Trojano libri ... auctori restituti

... a Samuele Dresemio," Francfort, 1620, 8vo. The MS. lat. 15015 in the

National Library, Paris, contains a considerable series of explanatory

notes written in the thirteenth century, concerning this poem (I printed

the first book of them).

[255] For example, in his opening lines, where he adheres to the

simplicity recommended in "Ars Poetica":

Iliadum lacrymas concessaque Pergama fatis,

Praelia bina ducum, bis adactam cladibus urbem,

In cineres quaerimus.

[256] "Anglo-Latin satirical poets and epigrammatists of the XIIth

Century," ed. Th. Wright, London, 1872, Rolls, 2 vols. 8vo; contains,

among other works: "Godfredi prioris Epigrammata" (one in praise of the

Conqueror, vol. ii. p. 149); "Henrici archidiaconi Historiae liber

undecimus" (that is, Henry of Huntingdon, fine epigram "in seipsum,"

vol. ii. p. 163); "Alexandri Neckham De Vita Monachorum" (the same wrote

a number of treatises on theological, scientific, and grammatical

subjects; see especially his "De Naturis Rerum," ed. Wright, Rolls,

1863); "Alani Liber de Planctu Naturae" (_cf._ "Opera," Antwerp, 1654,

fol., the nationality of Alain de l'Isle is doubtful); "Joannis de

Altavilla Architrenius" (that is the arch-weeper; lamentations of a

young man on his past, his faults, the faults of others; Nature comforts

him and he marries Moderation; the author was a Norman, and wrote ab.

1184).

[257] For the Latin fables of Walter the Englishman, Odo de Cheriton,

Neckham, &c., see Hervieux, "les Fabulistes latins," Paris, 1883-4, 2

vols. (text, commentary, &c.).

[258] "Speculum Stultorum," in Wright, "Anglo-Latin satirical poets";

_ut supra_. Nigel (twelfth century) had for his patron William de

Longchamp, bishop of Ely (see above, p. 163), and fulfilled

ecclesiastical functions in Canterbury.

[259]

In titulo caudae Francorum rex Ludovicus

Non tibi praecellit pontificesve sui.

(Vol. i. p. 17.)

[260]

Cantemus, socii! festum celebremus aselli!

Vocibus et votis organa nostra sonent.

Exultent asini, laeti modulentur aselli,

Laude sonent celebri tympana, sistra, chori!

(p. 48.)

[261]

Jam pertransierat Burnellus tempora multa

Et prope completus septimus annus erat,

Cum nihil ex toto quodcunque docente magistro

Aut socio potuit discere praeter ya.

Quod natura dedit, quod secum detulit illuc,

Hoc habet, hoc illo nemo tulisse potest ...

Semper ya repetit.

(p. 64)

[262] "Galfridi de Vinosalvo Ars Poetica," ed. Leyser, Helmstadt, 1724,

8vo. He wrote other works; an "Itinerarium regis Anglorum Richardi I."

(text in the "Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores" of Gale, 1684 ff., fol., vol.

ii.) has been attributed to him, but there are grave doubts; see

Haureau, "Notices et Extraits des Manuscrits," vol. xxix. pp. 321 ff.

According to Stubbs ("Itinerarium peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi,"

1864, Rolls), the real author is Richard, canon of the Holy Trinity,

London.

[263]

Papa stupor mundi, si dixero Papa _Nocenti_:

Acephalum nomen tribuam tibi; si caput addam,

Hostis erit metri, &c.

[264]

Nec Deus es nec homo, quasi neuter es inter utrumque,

Quem Deus elegit socium. Socialiter egit

Tecum, partibus mundum. Sed noluit unus

Omnia. Sed voluit tibi terras et sibi coelum.

Quid potuit melius? quid majus? cui meliori?

(p. 95.)

[265]

Tota peris ex morte sua. Mors non fuit ejus,

Sed tua. Non una, sed publica, mortis origo.

O Veneris lacrimosa dies! o sydus amarum!

Illa dies tua nox fuit et Venus illa venenum;

Illa dedit vulnus ...

O dolor! o plus quam dolor! o mors! o truculenta

Mors! Esses utinam mors mortua! quid meministi

Ausa nefas tantum? Placuit tibi tollere solem

Et tenebris tenebrare solum.

(p. 18.)

[266]

Contra ridiculos si vis insurgere plene

Surge sub hac forma. Lauda, sed ridiculose.

Argue, sed lepide, &c.

(p. 21.)

[267]

Nox, fera nox, vere nox noxia, turbida, tristis,

Insidiosa, ferox, &c.

("De Bello Trojano," book vi. l. 760.)

[268] "Cum in hyemis intemperie post cenam noctu familia divitis ad

focum, ut potentibus moris est, recensendis antiquis gestis operam

daret...." "Gesta Romanorum," version compiled in England, ed. Hermann

Oesterley, Berlin, 1872, 8vo, chap. clv.

[269] Such is the conclusion come to by Oesterley. The original version,

according to him, was written in England; on the Continent, where it was

received with great favour, it underwent considerable alterations, and

many stories were added. The "Gesta" have been wrongly attributed to

Pierre Bercheur. Translations into English prose were made in the

fifteenth century: "The early English version of the Gesta Romanorum,"

ed. S. J. H. Herrtage, Early English Text Society, 1879, 8vo.

[270] Seven kilos, 200 gr. "Doctissimi viri fratris Johannis de Bromyard

... Summ[a] praedicantium," Nurenberg, 1485, fol. The subjects are

arranged in alphabetical order: Ebrietas, Luxuria, Maria, &c.

[271] Such is the case in several of the stories collected by Th.

Wright: "A Selection of Latin Stories from MSS, of the XIIIth and XIVth

Centuries, a contribution to the History of Fiction," London, Percy

Society, 1842, 8vo. In No. XXII., "De Muliere et Sortilega," the

incantations are in English verse; in No. XXXIV. occurs a praise of

England, "terra pacis et justitiae"; in No. XCVII. the hermit who got

drunk repents and says "anglice":

Whil that I was sobre sinne ne dede I nowht,

But in drunkeschipe I dede ye werste that mihten be thowte.

[272] That one in verse, with a mixture of English words. Ha! says the

peasant:

Ha thu mi swete bird, ego te comedam.

"Early Mysteries and other Latin poems of the XIIth and XIIIth

Centuries," ed. Th. Wright, London, 1838, 8vo, p. 97. _Cf._ G. Paris,

"Lai de l'Oiselet," Paris, 1884.

[273] These series of drawings in the margins are like tales without

words; several among the most celebrated of the fabliaux are thus

represented; among others: the Sacristan and the wife of the Knight; the

Hermit who got drunk; a story recalling the adventures of Lazarillo de

Tormes (unnoticed by the historians of Spanish fiction), &c. Some

drawings of this sort from MS. 10 E iv. in the British Museum are

reproduced in "English Wayfaring Life," pp. 21, 28, 405, &c.

[274] "Redi, misera, ad monasterium, quia ego, sub tua specie usque modo

officium tuum adimplevi." Wright's "Latin Stories," p. 95. Same story in

Barbazan and Meon, "Nouveau Recueil," vol. ii. p. 154: "De la Segretaine

qui devint fole au monde."

[275] "Latin Stories," p. 97; French text in Barbazan and Meon, vol. ii.

p. 443: "Du larron qui se commandoit a Nostre Dame toutes les fois qu'il

aloit embler."

[276] "Latin Stories," p. 114, from the version of the "Gesta

Romanorum," compiled in England: "De milite conventionem faciente cum

mercatore."

[277] "Ait miles, 'o carissima domina, mihi prae omnibus praedilecta hodie

fere vitam amsi; sed cum ad mortem judicari debuissem, intravit subito

quidam miles formosus valde, bene militem tam formosum nunquam antea

vidi, et me per prudentiam suam non tantum a morte salvavit, sed etiam

me ab omni solutione pecuniae liberavit.' Ait puella: 'Ergo ingratus

fuisti quod militem ad prandium, quia vitam tuam taliter salvavit, non

invitasti.' Ait miles: 'Subito intravit et subito exivit.' Ait puella:

'Si cum jam videres, haberes notitiam ejus?' At ille 'Etiam optime.'"

_Ibid._

[278] Born ab. 1120. To him it was that Pope Adrian IV. (Nicholas

Breakspeare) delivered the famous bull "Laudabiliter," which gave

Ireland to Henry II. Adrian had great friendship for John: "Fatebatur

etiam," John wrote somewhat conceitedly, "publice et secreto quod me prae

omnibus mortalibus diligebat.... Et quum Romanus pontifex esset, me in

propria mensa gaudebat habere convivum, et eundem scyphum et discum sibi

et mihi volebat, et faciebat, me renitente, esse communem"

("Metalogicus," in the "Opera Omnia," ed. Giles, vol. v. p. 205). John

of Salisbury died in 1180, being then bishop of Chartres, a dignity to

which he had been raised, he said, "divina dignatione et meritis Sancti

Thomae" (Demimuid, "Jean de Salisbury," 1873, p. 275). The very fine copy

of John's "Policraticus," which belonged to Richard de Bury, is now in

the British Museum: MS. 13 D iv.

[279] From [Greek: polis] and [Greek: chratein].

[280] "Joannis Saresberiensis ... Opera omnia," ed. Giles, Oxford, 1848,

5 vols. 8vo, "Patres Ecclesiae Anglicanae."

[281] "Ipsum quoque cultum religionis incestat, quod ante conspectum

Domini, in ipsis penetralibus sanctuarii, lascivientis vocis luxu,

quadam ostentatione sui, muliebribus modis notularum articulorumque

caesuris stupentes animulas emollire nituntur. Quum praecinentium et

succinentium, canentium et decinentium, praemolles modulationes audieris,

Sirenarum concentus credas esse, non hominum, et de vocum facilitate

miraberis quibus philomena vel psitaccus, aut si quid sonorius est,

modos suos nequeunt coaequare." "Opera," vol. iii. p. 38 (see on this

same subject, below, p. 446).

[282] "Quae autem de curialibus nugis dicta sunt, in nullo eorum, sed

forte in me aut mei similibus deprehendi; et plane nimis arcta lege

constringor, si meipsum et amicos castigare et emendare non licet."

"Opera," vol. iv. p. 379 (Maupassant used to put forth in conversation

exactly the same plea as an apology for "Bel-Ami.")

[283] "Afflictus namque populus, quasi principis podagram arguit et

convicit. Tunc autem totius reipublicae salus incolumis praeclaraque erit,

si superiora membra si impendant inferioribus et inferiora superioribus

pari jure respondeant." "Policraticus"; "Opera," vol. iv. p. 52.

[284] Born probably in Herefordshire, studied at Paris, fulfilled

various diplomatic missions, was justice in eyre 1173, canon of St.

Paul's 1176, archdeacon of Oxford, 1197. He spent his last years in his

living of Westbury on the Severn, and died about 1210.

[285] "Hunc in curia regis Henrici libellum raptim annotavi schedulis."

"Gualteri Mapes de Nugis Curialium Distinctiones quinque," ed. Th.

Wright, London, Camden Society, 1850, 4to, Dist. iv., Epilogus, p. 140.

[286] For example, _ibid._ iii. 2, "De Societate Sadii et Galonis,"

Dialogue between three women, Regina, Lais, Ero, pp. 111 ff.

[287] "Galtere, veni foras!--Galterus autem, quia non audivit vocem

Jhesus, non habuit aures Lazari et non venit." "De Nugis," p. 42.

[288] "De Nugis," Dist. iv.

[289] Th. Wright, "The Latin poems commonly attributed to Walter Mapes,"

London, Camden Society, 1841, 4to (_cf._ "Romania," vol. vii. p. 94):

Meum est propositum in taberna mori;

Vinum sit appositum morientis ori,

Ut dicant cum venerint angelorum chori:

Deus sit propitius huic potatori.

("Confessio Goliae.")

On "Goliardois" clerks, see Bedier, "les Fabliaux," Paris, 1893, 8vo,

pp. 348 ff.

[290] In his prefatory letter to king John, Gerald says that "vir ille

eloquio clarus, W. Mapus, Oxoniensis archidiaconus," used to tell him

that he had derived some fame and benefits from his witticisms and

sayings, "dicta," which were in the common idiom, that is in French,

"communi quippe idiomate prolata." "Opera," Rolls, vol. v. p. 410.

[291] Map, however, never claimed the authorship of this work. The

probability of his being the author rests mainly on the allusion

discovered by Ward in the works of Hue de Rotelande, a compatriot and

contemporary of Map, who seems to point him out as having written the

"Lancelot." "Catalogue of Romances," 1883, vol. i. pp. 734 ff.

[292] Alexander, of Hales, Gloucestershire, lectured at Paris, d. 1245;

wrote a "Summa" at the request of Innocent II.: "Alexandri Alensis

Angli, Doctoris irrefragabilis ... universae theologiae Summa," Cologne,

1622, 4 vols. fol. He deals in many of his "Quaestiones" with subjects,

usual then in theological books, but which seem to the modern reader

very strange indeed. A large number of sermons and pious treatises were

also written in Latin during this period, by Aelred of Rievaulx for

example, and by others: "Beati Ailredi Rievallis abbatis Sermones" (and

other works) in Migne's "Patrologia," vols. xxxii. and cxcv.

[293] Studied at Oxford, then at Paris, where he taught with great

success, d. at Cologne in 1308. "Opera Omnia," ed. Luc Wadding, 1639, 12

vols. fol. See, on him, "Histoire Litteraire de la France," vol. xxiv.

p. 404.

[294] "Pantagruel," II., chap. 7.

[295] The works of Ockham (fourteenth century) have not been collected.

See his "Summa totius logicae," ed. Walker, 1675, 8vo, his "Compendium

errorum Johannis papae," Lyons, 1495, fol., &c.

[296] Born in Somersetshire, studied at Oxford and Paris, d. about 1294;

wrote "Opus majus," "Opus minus," "Opus tertium." See "Opus majus ad

Clementem papam," ed. Jebb, London, 1733, fol.; "Opera inedita," ed.

Brewer, Rolls, 1859. Many curious inventions are alluded to in this last

volume: diving bells, p. 533; gunpowder, p. 536; oarless and very swift

boats; carriages without horses running at an extraordinary speed: "Item

currus possunt fieri ut sine animali moveantur impetu inaestimabili," p.

533. On the causes of errors, that is authority, habit, &c., see "Opus

majus," I.

[297] Born at Chichester ab. 1290, taught at Oxford, became chaplain to

Edward III. and Archbishop of Canterbury. "De Causa Dei contra Pelagium

et de virtute causarum ad suos Mertonenses, Libri III.," London, 1618,

fol.

[298] Conclusion of chap. i. Book I.: "Contra Aristotelem, astruentem

mundum non habuisse principium temporale et non fuisse creatum, nec

praesentem generationem hominum terminandam, neque mundum nec statum

mundi ullo tempore finiendum."

[299] "Joannis Anglici praxis medica Rosa Anglica dicta," Augsbourg,

1595, 2 vols. 4to. Vol. i. p. 496.

[300] Concerning Bartholomaeus Anglicus, sometimes but wrongly called de

Glanville, see the notice by M. Delisle ("Histoire Litteraire de la

France," vol. xxx. pp. 334 ff.), who has demonstrated that he lived in

the thirteenth and not in the fourteenth century. It is difficult to

admit with M. Delisle that Bartholomew was not English. As we know that

he studied and lived on the Continent the most probable explanation of

his surname is that he was born in England. See also his praise of

England, xv-14. His "De Proprietatibus" (Francfort, 1609, 8vo, many

other editions) was translated into English by Trevisa, in 1398, in

French by Jean Corbichon, at the request of the wise king Charles V., in

Spanish and in Dutch. To the same category of writers belongs Gervase of

Tilbury in Essex, who wrote, also on the Continent, between 1208 and

1214, his "Otia imperialia," where he gives an account of chaos, the

creation, the wonders of the world, &c.; unpublished but for a few

extracts given by Stevenson in his "Radulphi de Coggeshall Chronicon,"

1875, 8vo, Rolls, pp. 419 ff.

[301] There are eighteen in the National Library, Paris. One of the

finest is the MS. 15 E ii. and iii. in the British Museum (French

translation) with beautiful miniatures in the richest style; _in fine_:

"Escript par moy Jo Duries et finy a Bruges le XXVe jour de May, anno

1482."

[302] On Vacarius, see "Magister Vacarius primus juris Romani in Anglia

professor ex annalium monumentis et opere accurate descripto

illustratus," by C. F. C. Wenck, Leipzig, 1820, 8vo.

[303] "Tractatus de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae," finished about

1187 (ed. Wilmot and Rayner, London, 1780, 8vo); was perhaps the work of

his nephew, Hubert Walter, but written under his inspiraton.

[304] "Dialogus de Scaccario," written 23 Henry II., text in Stubbs,

"Select Charters," Oxford, 1876, p. 168.

[305] "Henrici de Bracton de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae, Libri

V.," ed. Travers Twiss, Rolls, 1878 ff., 6 vols. 8vo. Bracton adopts

some of the best known among the definitions and maxims of Roman law:

"Filius haeres legittimus est quando nuptiae demonstrant," vol. ii. p. 18;

a treasure is "quaedam vetus depositio pecuniae vel alterius metalli cujus

non extat modo memoria," vol. ii. p. 230. On "Bracton and his relation

to Roman law," see C. Gueterbock, translated with notes by Brinton Coxe,

Philadelphia, 1866, 8vo.

[306] By Gilbert de Thornton, ab. 1292; by the author of "Fleta," ab.

the same date.

[307] The loose leaf was then removed, and a new one placed instead, in

view of the year to come: "In fine vero anni non quicumque voluerit sed

cui injunctum fuerit, quod verius et melius censuerit ad posteritatis

notitiam transmittendum, in corpore libri succincta brevitate describat;

et tunc veter scedula subtracta nova imponatur." "Annales Monastici",

ed. Luard, Rolls, 1864-9, 5 vols. 8vo, vol. iv. p. 355. Annals of the

priory of Worcester; preface. Concerning the "Scriptoria" in monasteries

and in particular the "Scriptorium" of St. Albans, see Hardy,

"Descriptive Catalogue," 1871, Rolls, vol. iii. pp. xi. ff.

[308] "Sedens igitur in claustro pluries fatigatus, sensu habetato,

virtutibus frustratus, pessimis cogitationibus saepe sauciatus, tum

propter lectionum longitudinem ac orationum lassitudinem, propter vanas

jactantias et opera pessima in saeculo praehabita...." He has recourse, as

a cure, to historical studies "ad rogationem superiorum meorum."

"Eulogium historiarum ab orbe condito usque ad A.D. 1366," by a monk of

Malmesbury, ed. Haydon, Rolls, 1858, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 2.

[309] "Orderici Vitalis Angligenae Historiae ecclesiasticae, Libri XIII.,"

ed. Le Prevost, Paris, 1838-55, 5 vols. 8vo. Vital was born in England,

but lived and wrote in the monastery of St. Evroult in Normandy, where

he had been sent "as in exile," and where, "as did St. Joseph in Egypt,

he heard spoken a language to him unknown."

[310] "Eadmeri Historia novorum in Anglia," ed. Martin Rule, Rolls,

1884, 8vo; in the same volume: "De vita and conversatione Anselmi."

Eadmer died ab. 1144.

[311] "Giraldi Cambrensis Opera," ed. Brewer (and others), 1861-91, 8

vols. 8vo, Rolls. Gerald was born in the castle of Manorbeer, near

Pembroke, of which ruins subsist. He was the son of William de Barry, of

the great and warlike family that was to play an important part in

Ireland. His mother was Angareth, grand-daughter of Rhys ap Theodor, a

Welsh prince. He studied at Paris, became chaplain to Henry II.,

sojourned in Ireland, helped Archbishop Baldwin to preach the crusade in

Wales, and made considerable but fruitless efforts to be appointed

bishop of St. Davids. At length he settled in peace and died there, ab.

1216; his tomb, greatly injured, is still to be seen in the church.

Principal works, all in Latin (see above, p. 117); "De Rebus a se

gestis;" "Gemma Ecclesiastica;" "De Invectionibus, Libri IV.;" "Speculum

Ecclesiae;" "Topographia Hibernica;" "Expugnatio Hibernica;" "Itinerarium

Kambriae;" "Descriptio Kambriae;" "De Principis Instructione."

[312] "Willelmi Malmesbiriensis Monachi, Gesta Regum Anglorum atque

Historia Novella," ed. T. D. Hardy, London, English Historical Society,

1840, 2 vols. 8vo; or the edition of Stubbs, Rolls, 1887 ff.; "De Gestis

Pontificum Anglorum," ed. Hamilton, Rolls, 1870. William seems to have

written between 1114 and 1123 and to have died ab. 1142, or shortly

after.

[313] "Henrici Archidiaconi Huntendunensis Historia Anglorum ... from

A.C. 55 to A.D. 1154," ed. T. Arnold, Rolls, 1879, 8vo. Henry writes

much more as a dilettante than William of Malmesbury; he seems to do it

mainly to please himself; clever at verse writing (see above, p. 177),

he introduces in his Chronicle Latin poems of his own composition. His

chronology is vague and faulty.

[314] "De Annulo statuae commendato," "Gesta," vol. i. p. 354.

[315] "Matthaei Parisiensis ... Chronica Majora," ed. H. R. Luard, Rolls,

1872 ff., 7 vols.; "Historia Anglorum, sive ut vulgo dicitur Historia

Minor," ed. Madden, Rolls, 1866 ff., 3 vols. Matthew was English; his

surname of "Paris" or "the Parisian" meant, perhaps, that he had studied

at Paris, or perhaps that he belonged to one of the families of Paris

which existed then in England (Jessopp, "Studies by a Recluse," London,

1893, p. 46). He was received into St. Albans monastery on 1217, and was

sent on a mission to King Hacon in Norway in 1248-9. Henry III., a weak

king but an artist born, valued him greatly. He died in 1259. The oldest

part of Matthew's chronicle is founded upon the work of Roger de

Wendover, another monk of St. Albans, who died in 1236.

[316] So says Walsingham; see Madden's preface to the "Historia

Anglorum," vol. iii. p. xlviii.

[317] MS. Nero D i. in the British Museum, fol. 22, 23, 146, 169. The

attribution of these drawings to Matthew has been contested: their

authenticity seems, however, probable. See, _contra_, Hardy, vol. iii.

of his "Descriptive Catalogue." See also the MS. Royal 14 C vii., with

maps and itineraries; a great Virgin on a throne, with a monk at her

feet: "Fret' Mathias Parisiensis," fol. 6; fine draperies with many

folds, recalling those in the album of Villard de Honecourt.

[318] Year 1255: "Missus est in Angliam quidam elephas quem rex

Francorum pro magno munere dedit regi Angliae.... Nec credimus alium

unquam visum fuisse in Anglia." "Abbreviatio Chronicorum," following the

"Historia Anglorum" in Madden's edition, vol. iii. p. 344.

[319] "Chronica Majora," vol. iii. pp. 162 ff. The story of Cartaphilus

was already in Roger de Wendover, who was also present in the monastery

when the Armenian bishop came. The details on the ark are added by

Matthew.

[320] "Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden, monachi Cestrensis ... with the

English translation of John Trevisa," ed. Babington and Lumby, Rolls,

1865 ff., 8 vols. Higden died about 1363. See below, p. 406.

[321] See below, p. 405.

[322] A great many other English chroniclers wrote in Latin, and among

their number: Florence of Worcester, Simeon of Durham, Fitzstephen, the

pseudo Benedict of Peterborough, William of Newburgh, Roger de Hoveden

(d. ab. 1201) in the twelfth century; Gervase of Canterbury, Radulph de

Diceto, Roger de Wendover, Radulph de Coggeshall, John of Oxenede,

Bartholomew de Cotton, in the thirteenth; William Rishanger, John de

Trokelowe, Nicolas Trivet, Richard of Cirencester, in the fourteenth. A

large number of chronicles are anonymous. Most of those works have been

published by the English Historical Society, the Society of Antiquaries,

and especially by the Master of the Rolls in the great collection: "The

Chronicles and Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland ... published

under the direction of the Master of the Rolls," London, 1857 ff., in

progress. See also the "Descriptive Catalogue of materials relating to

the History of Great Britain and Ireland, to the end of the reign of

Henry VII." by Sir T. D. Hardy, Rolls, 1862-6, 3 vols. 8vo.

[323] The contrast between the time when Richard writes and the days of

his youth, when he studied at Paris, is easy to explain. The Hundred

Years' War had begun, and well could the bishop speak of the decay of

studies in the capital, "ubi tepuit, immo fere friguit zelus scholae tam

nobilis, cujus olim radii lucem dabant universis angulis orbis terrae....

Minerva mirabilis nationes hominum circuire videtur.... Jam Athenas

deseruit, jam a Roma recessit, jam Parisius praeterivit, jam ad

Britanniam, insularum insignissimam, quin potius microcosmum accessit

feliciter." "Philobiblon," chap. ix. p. 89. In the same words nearly,

but with a contrary intent, Count Cominges, ambassador to England,

assured King Louis XIV. that "the arts and sciences sometimes leave a

country to go and honour another with their presence. Now they have gone

to France, and scarcely any vestiges of them have been left here," April

2, 1663. "A French Ambassador at the Court of Charles II.," 1892, p.

205.

CHAPTER IV.

_LITERATURE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE._

I.

English in the meanwhile had survived, but it had been also transformed,

owing to the Conquest. To the disaster of Hastings succeeded, for the

native race, a period of stupor and silence, and this was not without

some happy results. The first duty of a master is to impose silence on

his pupils; and this the conquerors did not fail to do. There was

silence for a hundred years.

The clerks were the only exception; men of English speech remained mute.

They barely recopied the manuscripts of their ancient authors, the list

of whose names was left closed; they listened without comprehending to

the songs the foreigner had acclimatised in their island. The manner of

speech and the subjects of the discourses were equally unfamiliar; and

they stood silent amidst the merriment that burst out like a note of

defiance in the literature of the victors.

Necessity caused them to take up the pen once more. After as before the

Conquest the rational object of life continued to be the gaining of

heaven, and it would have been a waste of time to use Latin in

demonstrating this truth to the common people of England. French served

for the new masters, and for their group of adherents; Latin for the

clerks; but for the mass of "lowe men," who are always the most

numerous, it was indispensable to talk English. "All people cannot,"

had said Bishop Grosseteste in his French "Chateau d'Amour," "know

Hebrew, Greek, and Latin"--"nor French," adds his English translator

some fifty years later; for which cause:

On Englisch I-chul mi resun schowen

Ffor him that con not i-knowen

Nouther Ffrench ne Latyn.[324]

The first works written in English, after the Conquest, were sermons and

pious treatises, some imitated from Bede, AElfric, and the ancient Saxon

models, others translated from the French. No originality or invention;

the time is one of depression and humiliation; the victor sings, the

vanquished prays.

The twelfth century, so fertile in Latin and French works, only counts,

as far as English works are concerned, devotional books in prose and

verse. The verses are uncouth and ill-shaped; the ancient rules,

half-forgotten, are blended with new ones only half understood. Many

authors employ at the same time alliteration and rhyme, and sin against

both. The sermons are usually familiar in their style and kind in their

tone; they are meant for the poor and miserable to whom tenderness and

sympathy must be shown. The listeners want to be consoled and soothed;

they are also interested, as formerly, by stories of miracles, and

scared into virtue by descriptions of hell; confidence again is given

them by instances of Divine mercy.[325]

Like the ancient churches the collections of sermons bring before the

eye the last judgment and the region of hell, with its monstrous

torments, its wells of flames, its ocean with seven bitter waves: ice,

fire, blood ... a rudimentary rendering of legends interpreted in their

turn by Dante in his poem, and Giotto in his fresco.[326] The thought of

Giotto especially, when reading those sermons, recurs to the memory, of

Giotto with his awkward and audacious attempts, Giotto so remote and yet

so modern, childish and noble at the same time, who represents devils

roasting the damned on spits, and on the same wall tries to paint the

Unseen and disclose to view the Unknown, Giotto with his search after

the impossible, an almost painful search, the opposite of antique

wisdom, and the sublime folly of the then nascent modern age. Not far

from Padua, beside Venice, in the great Byzantine mosaic of Torcello,

can be seen a last reflection of antique equanimity. Here the main

character of the judgment-scene is its grand solemnity; and from this

comes the impression of awe left on the beholder; the idea of rule and

law predominates, a fatal law against which nothing can prevail; fate

seems to preside, as it did in the antique tragedies.

In the English sermons of the period it is not the art of Torcello that

continues, but the art of Giotto that begins. From time to time among

the ungainly phrases of an author whose language is yet unformed, amidst

mild and kind counsels, bursts forth a resounding apostrophe which

causes the whole soul to vibrate, and has something sublime in its force

and brevity: "He who bestows alms with ill-gotten goods shall not obtain

the grace of Christ any more than he who having slain thy child brings

thee its head as a gift!"[327]

The Psalter,[328] portions of the Bible,[329] lives of saints,[330]

were put into verse. Metrical lives of saints fill manuscripts of

prodigious size. A complete cycle of them, the work of several authors,

in which are mixed together old and novel, English and foreign,

materials, was written in English verse in the thirteenth century: "The

collection in its complete state is a 'Liber Festivalis,' containing

sermons or materials for sermons, for the festivals of the year in the

order of the calendar, and comprehends not only saints' lives for

saints' days but also a 'Temporale' for the festivals of Christ,"

&c.[331] The earliest complete manuscript was written about 1300, an

older but incomplete one belongs to the years 1280-90, or

thereabout.[332] In these collections a large place, as might be

expected, is allowed to English saints:

Wolle ye nouthe i-heore this englische tale | that is here i-write?

It is the story of St. Thomas Becket: "Of Londone is fader was." St.

Edward was "in Engeland oure kyng"; St. Kenelm,

Kyng he was in Engelond | of the march of Walis;

St. Edmund the Confessor "that lith at Ponteneye,"

Ibore he was in Engelond | in the toun of Abyndone.

St. Swithin "was her of Engelonde;" St. Wulfstan, bishop of Worcester,

Was here of Engelonde ...

The while he was a yong child | clene lif he ladde i-nough;

Whenne other children ornen to pleye | toward churche he drough.

Seint Edward was kyng tho | that nouthe in heovene is.

St. Cuthbert was born in England; St. Dunstan was an Englishman. Of the

latter a number of humorous legends were current among the people, and

were preserved by religious poets; he and the devil played on each other

numberless tricks in which, as behoves, the devil had the worst; these

adventures made the subject of amusing pictures in many manuscripts. A

woman, of beautiful face and figure, calls upon the saint, who is

clear-sighted enough to recognise under this alluring shape the

arch-foe; he dissembles. Being, like St. Eloi, a blacksmith, as well as

a saint and a State minister, he heats his tongs red-hot, and turning

suddenly round, while the other was watching confidently the effect of

his good looks, catches him by the nose. There was a smell of burnt

flesh, and awful yells were heard many miles round, for the "tonge was

al afure"; it will teach him to stay at home and blow his own nose:

As god the schrewe hadde ibeo | atom ysnyt his nose.[333]

With this we have graceful legends, like that of St. Brandan, adapted

from a French original, being the story of that Irish monk who, in a

leather bark, sailed in search of Paradise,[334] and visited marvellous

islands where ewes govern themselves, and where the birds are angels

transformed. The optimistic ideal of the Celts reappears in this poem,

the subject of which is borrowed from them. "All there is beautiful,

pure, and innocent; never was so kind a glance bestowed on the world,

not a cruel idea, not a trace of weakness or regret."[335]

The mirth of St. Dunstan's story, the serenity of the legend of St.

Brandan, are examples rarely met with in this literature. Under the

light ornamentation copied from the Celts and Normans, is usually seen

at that date the sombre and dreamy background of the Anglo-Saxon mind.

Hell and its torments, remorse for irreparable crimes, dread of the

hereafter, terror of the judgments of God and the brevity of life, are,

as they were before the Conquest, favourite subjects with the national

poets. They recur to them again and again; French poems describing the

same are those they imitate the more willingly; the tollings of the

funeral bell are heard each day in their compositions. Why cling to this

perishable world? it will pass as "the schadewe that glyt away;" man

will fade as a leaf, "so lef on bouh." Where are Paris, and Helen, and

Tristan, and Iseult, and Caesar? They have fled out of this world as the

shaft from the bowstring:

Heo beoth iglyden ut of the reyne,

So the scheft is of the cleo.[336]

Treatises of various kinds, and pious poems, abound from the thirteenth

century; all adapted to English life and taste, but imitated from the

French. The "Ancren Riwle,"[337] or rule for Recluse women, written in

prose in the thirteenth century is perhaps an exception: it would be in

that case the first in date of the original treatises written in English

after the Conquest. This Rule is a manual of piety for the use of women

who wish to dedicate themselves to God, a sort of "Introduction a la Vie

devote," as mild in tone as that of St. Francis de Sales, but far more

vigorous in its precepts. The author addresses himself specially to

three young women of good family, who had resolved to live apart from

the world without taking any vows. He teaches them to deprive themselves

of all that makes life attractive; to take no pleasure either through

the eye, or through the ear, or in any other way. He gives rules for

getting up, for going to bed, for eating and for dressing. His doctrine

may be summed up in a word: he teaches self-renunciation. But he does it

in so kindly and affectionate a tone that the life he wishes his

penitents to submit to does not seem too bitter; his voice is so sweet

that the existence he describes seems almost sweet. Yet all that could

brighten it must be avoided; the least thing may have serious

consequences: "of little waxeth mickle."

Not a glance must be bestowed on the world; the young recluses must even

deny themselves the pleasure of looking out of the parlour windows. They

must bear in mind the example of Eve: "When thou lookest upon a man thou

art in Eve's case; thou lookest upon the apple. If any one had said to

Eve when she cast her eye upon it: 'Ah! Eve, turn thee away; thou

castest thine eyes upon thy death,' what would she have answered?--'My

dear master, thou art in the wrong, why dost thou find fault with me?

The apple which I look upon is forbidden me to eat, not to look

at.'--Thus would Eve quickly enough have answered. O my dear sisters,

truly Eve hath many daughters who imitate their mother, who answer in

this manner. But 'thinkest thou,' saith one, 'that I shall leap upon him

though I look at him?'--God knows, dear sisters, that a greater wonder

has happened. Eve, thy mother leaped after her eyes to the apple; from

the apple in Paradise down to the earth; from the earth to hell, where

she lay in prison four thousand years and more, she and her lord both,

and taught all her offspring to leap after her to death without end. The

beginning and root of this woful calamity was a light look. Thus often,

as is said, 'of little waxeth mickle.'"[338]

The temptation to look and talk out of the window was one of the

greatest with the poor anchoresses; not a few found it impossible to

resist it. Cut off from the changeable world, they could not help

feeling an interest in it, so captivating precisely because, unlike the

cellular life, it was ever changing. The authors of rules for recluses

insisted therefore very much upon this danger, and denounced such abuses

as Aelred, abbot of Rievaulx, reveals, as we have seen, so early as the

twelfth century: old women, talkative ones and newsbringers, sitting

before the window of the recluse, "and telling her tales, and feeding

her with vain news and scandal, and telling her how this monk or that

clerk or any other man looks and behaves."[339]

Most of the religious treatises in English that have come down to us are

of a more recent epoch, and belong to the first half of the fourteenth

century. In the thirteenth, as has been noticed, many Englishmen

considered French to be, together with Latin, the literary language of

the country; they endeavoured to handle it, but not always with great

success. Robert Grosseteste, who, however, recommended his clergy to

preach in English, had composed in French a "Chateau d'Amour," an

allegorical poem, with keeps, castles, and turrets, "les quatre tureles

en haut," which are the four cardinal virtues, a sort of pious Romaunt

of the Rose. William of Wadington had likewise written in French his

"Manuel des Pechiez," not without an inkling that his grammar and

prosody might give cause for laughter. He excused himself in advance:

"For my French and my rhymes no one must blame me, for in England was I

born, and there bred and brought up and educated."[340]

These attempts become rare as we approach the fourteenth century, and

English translations and imitations, on the contrary, multiply. We find,

for example, translations in English verse of the "Chateau"[341] and the

"Manuel"[342]; a prose translation of that famous "Somme des Vices et

des Vertus," composed by Brother Lorens in 1279, for Philip III. of

France, a copy of which, chained to a pillar of the church of the

Innocents, remained open for the convenience of the faithful[343]; (a

bestiary in verse, thirteenth century), devotional writings on the

Virgin, legends of the Cross, visions of heaven and hell[344]; a Courier

of the world, "Cursor Mundi," in verse,[345] containing the history of

the Old and New Testaments. A multitude of legends are found in the

"Cursor," that of the Cross for instance, made out of three trees, a

cypress, a cedar, and a pine, symbols of the Trinity. These trees had

sprung from three pips given to Seth by the guardian angel of Paradise,

and placed under Adam's tongue at his death; their miraculous existence

is continued on the mountains, and they play a part in all the great

epochs of Jewish history, in the time of Moses, Solomon, &c.

Similar legends adorn most of these books: what good could they

accomplish if no one read them? And to be read it was necessary to

please. This is why verse was used to charm the ear, and romantic

stories were inserted to delight the mind, for, says Robert Mannyng in

his translation of the "Manuel des Pechiez," "many people are so made

that it pleases them to hear stories and verses, in their games, in

their feasts, and over their ale."[346]

Somewhat above this group of translators and adaptators rises a more

original writer, Richard Rolle of Hampole, noticeable for his English

and Latin compositions, in prose and verse, and still more so by his

character.[347] He is the first on the list of those lay preachers, of

whom England has produced a number, whom an inward crisis brought back

to God, and who roamed about the country as volunteer apostles,

converting the simple, edifying the wise, and, alas! affording cause for

laughter to the wicked. They are taken by good folks for saints, and for

madmen by sceptics: such was the fate of Richard Rolle, of George Fox,

of Bunyan, and of Wesley; the same man lives on through the ages, and

the same humanity heaps on him at once blessings and ridicule.

Richard was of the world, and never took orders. He had studied at

Oxford. One day he left his father's house, in order to give himself up

to a contemplative life. From that time he mortifies himself, he fasts,

he prays, he is tempted; the devil appears to him under the form of a

beautiful young woman, who he tells us with less humility than we are

accustomed to from him, "loved me not a little with good love."[348] But

though the wicked one shows himself in this case even more wicked than

with St. Dunstan, and Rolle has no red-hot tongs to frighten him away,

still the devil is again worsted, and the adventure ends as it should.

Rolle has ecstasies, he sighs and groans; people come to visit him in

his solitude; he is found writing much, "scribentem multum velociter."

He is requested to stop writing, and speak to his visitors; he talks to

them, but continues writing, "and what he wrote differed entirely from

what he said." This duplication of the personality lasted two hours.

He leaves his retreat and goes all over the country, preaching

abnegation and a return to Christ. He finally settled at Hampole, where

he wrote his principal works, and died in 1349. Having no doubt that he

would one day be canonised, the nuns of a neighbouring convent caused

the office of his feast-day to be written; and this office, which was

never sung as Rolle never received the hoped-for dignity, is the main

source of our information concerning him.[349]

His style and ideas correspond well to such a life. His thoughts are

sombre, Germanic anxieties and doubts reappear in his writings, the idea

of death and the image of the grave cause him anguish that all his piety

cannot allay. His style, like his life, is uneven and full of change; to

calm passages, to beautiful and edifying tales succeed bursts of

passion; his phrases then become short and breathless; interjections and

apostrophes abound. "Ihesu es thy name. A! A! that wondyrfull name! A!

that delittabyll name! This es the name that es abowve all names.... I

yede (went) abowte be Covaytyse of riches and I fande noghte Ihesu. I

rane be Wantonnes of flesche and I fand noghte Ihesu. I satt in

companyes of Worldly myrthe and I fand noghte Ihesu.... Tharefore I

turnede by anothire waye, and I rane a-bowte be Poverte, and I fande

Ihesu pure, borne in the worlde, laid in a crybe and lappid in

clathis."[350] Rolle of Hampole is, if we except the doubtful case of

the "Ancren Riwle, "the first English prose writer after the Conquest

who can pretend to the title of original author. To find him we have had

to come far into the fourteenth century. When he died, in 1349, Chaucer

was about ten years of age and Wyclif thirty.

II.

We are getting further and further away from the Conquest, the wounds

inflicted by it begin to heal, and an audience is slowly forming among

the English race, ready for something else besides sermons.

The greater part of the nobles had early accepted the new order of

things, and had either retained or recovered their estates. Having

rallied to the cause of the conquerors, they now endeavoured to imitate

them, and had also their castles, their minstrels, and their romances.

They had, it is true, learnt French, but English remained their natural

language. A literature was composed that resembled them, English in

language, as French as possible in dress and manners. About the end of

the twelfth century or beginning of the thirteenth, the translation of

the French romances began. First came war stories, then love tales.

Thus was written by Layamon, about 1205, the first metrical romance,

after "Beowulf," that the English literature possesses.[351] The

vocabulary of the "Brut" is Anglo-Saxon; there are not, it seems, above

fifty words of French origin in the whole of this lengthy poem, and yet

on each page it is easy to recognise the ideas and the chivalrous tastes

introduced by the French. The strong will with which they blended the

traditions of the country has borne its fruits. Layamon considers that

the glories of the Britons are English glories, and he celebrates their

triumphs with an exulting heart, as if British victories were not Saxon

defeats. Bede, the Anglo-Saxon, and Wace, the Norman, "a Frenchis clerc"

as he calls him, are, in his eyes, authorities of the same sort and same

value, equally worthy of filial respect and belief. "It came to him in

mind," says Layamon, speaking of himself, "and in his chief thought that

he would of the English tell the noble deeds.... Layamon began to

journey wide over this land and procured the noble books which he took

for pattern. He took the English book that St. Bede made," and a Latin

book by "St. Albin"; a third book he took "and laid in the midst, that a

French clerk made, who was named Wace, who well could write.... These

books he turned over the leaves, lovingly he beheld them ... pen he took

with fingers and wrote on book skin."[352] He follows mainly Wace's

poem, but paraphrases it; he introduces legends that were unknown to

Wace, and adds speeches to the already numerous speeches of his model.

These discourses consist mostly of warlike invectives; before slaying,

the warriors hurl defiance at each other; after killing his foe, the

victor allows himself the pleasure of jeering at the corpse, and his

mirth resembles very much the mirth in Scandinavian sagas. "Then laughed

Arthur, the noble king, and gan to speak with gameful words: 'Lie now

there, Colgrim.... Thou climbed on this hill wondrously high, as if thou

wouldst ascend to heaven, now thou shalt to hell. There thou mayest know

much of your kindred; and greet thou there Hengest ... and Ossa, Octa

and more of thy kin, and bid them there dwell winter and summer, and we

shall in land live in bliss.'"[353] This is an example of a speech

added to Wace, who simply concludes his account of the battle by:

Mors fu Balduf, mors fu Colgrin

Et Cheldric s'en ala fuiant.[354]

In such taunts is recognised the ferocity of the primitive epics, those

of the Greeks as well as those of the northern nations. Thus spoke

Patroclus to Cebrion when he fell headlong from his chariot, "with the

resolute air of a diver who seeks oysters under the sea."

After Layamon, translations and adaptations soon become very plentiful,

metrical chronicles, like the one composed towards the end of the

thirteenth century by Robert of Gloucester,[355] are compiled on the

pattern of the French ones, for the use and delight of the English

people; chivalrous romances are also written in English. The love of

extraordinary adventures, and of the books that tell of them, had crept

little by little into the hearts of these islanders, now reconciled to

their masters, and led by them all over the world. The minstrels or

wandering poets of English tongue are many in number; no feast is

complete without their music and their songs; they are welcomed in the

castle halls, they can now, with as bold a voice as their French

brethren, bespeak a cup of ale, sure not to be refused:

At the beginning of ure tale,

Fil me a cuppe of ful god ale,

And y wile drinken her y spelle

That Crist us shilde all fro helle![356]

They stop also on the public places, where the common people flock to

hear of Charlemagne and Roland[357]; they even get into the cloister. In

the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, nearly all the stories of the

heroes of Troy, Rome, France, and Britain are put into verse:

For hem that knowe no Frensche | ne never underston.[358]

"Men like," writes shortly after 1300, the author of the "Cursor Mundi":

Men lykyn jestis for to here

And romans rede in divers manere

Of Alexandre the conqueroure,

Of Julius Cesar the emperoure,

Of Grece and Troy the strong stryf

There many a man lost his lyf,

Of Brute that baron bold of hond,

The first conqueroure of Englond,

Of Kyng Artour....

How Kyng Charlis and Rowlond fawght

With Sarzyns nold they be cawght,

Of Trystrem and Isoude the swete,

How they with love first gan mete ...

Stories of diverce thynggis,

Of pryncis, prelatis and of kynggis,

Many songgis of divers ryme,

As English Frensh and Latyne.[359]

Some very few Germanic or Saxon traditions, such as the story of

Havelok, a Dane who ended by reigning in England, or that of Horn and

Rymenhild,[360] his betrothed, had been adopted by the French poets.

They were taken from them again by the English minstrels, who, however,

left these old heroes their French dress: had they not followed the

fashion, no one would have cared for their work. Goldborough or

Argentille, the heroine of the romance of Havelok, was originally a

Valkyria; now, under her French disguise, she is scarcely recognisable,

but she is liked as she is.[361]

Some English heroes of a more recent period find also a place in this

poetic pantheon, thanks again to French minstrels, who make them

fashionable by versifying about them. In this manner were written, in

French, then in English, the adventures of Waltheof, of Sir Guy of

Warwick, who marries the beautiful Felice, goes to Palestine, kills the

giant Colbrant on his return, and dies piously in a hermitage.[362] Thus

are likewise told the deeds of famous outlaws, as Fulke Fitz-Warin, a

prototype of Robin Hood, who lived in the woods with the fair

Mahaud,[363] as Robin Hood will do later with Maid Marian.[364] Several

of these heroes, Guy of Warwick in particular, enjoyed such lasting

popularity that it has scarcely died out to this day. Their histories

were reprinted at the Renaissance; they were read under Elizabeth, and

plays were taken from them; and when, with Defoe, Richardson, and

Fielding, novels of another kind took their place in the drawing-room,

their life continued still in the lower sphere to which they had been

consigned. They supplied the matter for those popular _chap books_[365]

that have been reprinted even in our time, the authors of which wrote,

as did the rhymers of the Middle Ages "for the love of the English

people, of the people of merry England." _Englis lede of meri

Ingeland._[366]

"Merry England" became acquainted with every form of French mirth; she

imitated French chansons, and gave a place in her literature to French

fabliaux. Nothing could be less congenial to the Anglo-Saxon race than

the spirit of the fabliaux. This spirit, however, was acclimatised in

England; and, like several other products of the French mind, was

grafted on the original stock. The tree thus bore fruit which would

never have ripened as it did, without the Conquest. Such are the works

of Chaucer, of Swift perhaps, and of Sterne. The most comic and _risque_

stories, those same stories meant to raise a laugh which we have seen

old women tell at parlour windows, in order to cheer recluse

anchoresses, were put into English verse, from the thirteenth to the

fifteenth century. Thus we find under an English form such stories as

the tale of "La Chienne qui pleure,"[367] "Le lai du Cor,"[368] "La

Bourse pleine de sens,"[369] the praise of the land of "Coquaigne,"[370]

&c.:

Thogh paradis be miri and bright

Cokaygn is of fairir sight.

What is ther in paradis

Bot grasse and flure and grene ris (branches)?

Thogh ther be joi and grete dute (pleasure)

Ther nis mete bote frute....

Bot watir manis thurste to quenche;

Beth ther no man but two,

Hely and Enok also

And it cannot be very pleasant to live without more company; one must

feel "elinglich." But in "Cokaygne" there is no cause to be "elinglich";

all is meat and drink there; all is day, there is no night:

Al is dai, nis ther no nighte,

Ther nis baret (quarrel) nother strif....

Ther nis man no womman wroth,

Ther nis serpent, wolf no fox;

no storm, no rain, no wind, no flea, no fly; there is no Enoch nor any

Elias to be sure; but there are women with nothing pedantic about them,

who are as loving as they are lovable.

Nothing less Saxon than such poems, with their semi-impiety, which would

be absolute impiety if the author seriously meant what he said. It is

the impiety of Aucassin, who refuses (before it is offered him) to enter

Paradise: "In Paradise what have I to win? Therein I seek not to enter,

but only to have Nicolete, my sweet lady that I love so well.... But

into Hell would I fain go; for into Hell fare the goodly clerks, and

goodly knights that fall in harness and great wars, and stout

men-at-arms, and all men noble.... With those would I gladly go, let me

but have with me Nicolete, my sweetest lady."[371] We must not take

Aucassin at his word; there was ever froth on French wine.

Other English poems scoff at chivalrous manners, which are ridiculed in

verse, in paintings, and sculptures[372]; or at the elegancies of the

bad parson who puts in his bag a comb and "a shewer" (mirror).[373]

Other poems are adaptations of the "Roman de Renart."[374] The new

spirit has penetrated so well into English minds that the adaptation is

sometimes worthy of the original.

A vox gon out of the wode go,

Afingret (hungered) so that him wes wo;

He nes (ne was) nevere in none wise

Afingret erour (before) half so swithe.

He ne hoeld nouther wey ne strete,

For him wes loth men to mete;

Him were levere meten one hen,

Than half an oundred wimmen.

But not a hen does he come across; they are suspicious, and roost out of

reach. At last, half dead, he desires to drink, and sees a well with two

pails on the chain; he descends in one of the pails, and finds it

impossible to scramble out: he weeps for rage. The wolf, as a matter of

course, comes that way, and they begin to talk. Though wanting very much

to go, hungrier than ever, and determined to make the wolf take his

place, Renard would not have been Renard had he played off this trick on

his gossip plainly and without a word. He adds many words, all sparkling

with the wit of France, the wit that is to be inherited by Scapin and

by Figaro. The wolf, for his part, replies word for word by a verse of

Orgon's. Renard will only allow him to descend into the Paradise whither

he pretends to have retired, after he has confessed, forgiven all his

enemies--Renard being one--and is ready to lead a holy life. Ysengrin

agrees, confesses, and forgives; he feels his mind quite at rest, and

exclaims in his own way:

Et je verrais mourir frere, enfants, mere et femme,

Que je m'en soucierais autant que de cela.[375]

Nou ich am in clene live,

Ne recche ich of childe ne of wive.

The wolf goes down, Renard goes up; as the pails meet, the rogue

wickedly observes:

Ac ich am therof glad and blithe

That thou art nomen in clene live,

Thi soul-cnul (knell) ich wile do ringe,

And masse for thine soule singe.

But he considers it enough for his purpose to warn the monks that the

devil is at the bottom of their well. With great difficulty the monks

draw up the devil, which done they beat him, and set the dogs on him.

Some graceful love tales, popular in France, were translated and enjoyed

no less popularity in England, where there was now a public for

literature of this sort. Such was the case for Amis and Amile, Floire

and Blanchefleur, and many others.[376] As for _chansons_, there were

imitations of May songs, "disputoisons,"[377] and carols; love, roses,

and birds were sung in sweet words to soft music[378]; so was spring,

the season of lilies, when the flowers give more perfume, and the moon

more light, and women are more beautiful:

Wymmen waxeth wonder proude.[379]

Their beauties and merits are celebrated one by one, as in a litany;

for, said one of those poets, an Englishman who wrote in French:

Beaute de femme passe rose.[380]

In honour of them were composed stanzas spangled with admiring

epithets, glittering like a golden shower; innumerable songs were

dedicated to their ideal model, the Queen of Angels; others to each one

of their physical charms, their "vair eyes"[381] and their eyes "gray

y-noh": those being the colours preferred; their skin white as milk,

"soft ase sylk"; those scarlet lips that served them to read romances,

for romances were read aloud, and not only with the eyes[382]; their

voice more melodious than a bird's song. In short, from the time of

Edward II. that mixture of mysticism and sensuality appears which was to

become one of the characteristics of the fourteenth century.

The poets who made these songs, charming as they were, rarely succeeded

however in perfectly imitating the light pace of the careless French

muse. In reading a great number of the songs of both countries, one is

struck by the difference. The English spring is mixed with winter, and

the French with summer; England sings the verses of May, remembering

April, France sings them looking forward to June.

Blow northerne wynd,

Sent thou me my suetyng,

Blow, northerne wynd, blou, blou, blou![383]

says the English poet. Contact with the new-comers had modified the

gravity of the Anglo-Saxons, but without sweeping it away wholly and for

ever: the possibility of recurring sadness is felt even in the midst of

the joy of "Merry England."

But the hour draws near when for the first time, and in spite of all

doleful notes, the joy of "Merry England" will bloom forth freely.

Edward III. is on the throne, Chaucer is just born, and soon the future

Black Prince will win his spurs at Crecy.

FOOTNOTES:

[324] "Castel of Love," "made in the latter half of the XIIIth century,"

in Horstmann and Furnivall, "Minor Poems of the Vernon MS.," E.E.T.S.,

1892, Part I. p. 356, see below, p. 213. Grosseteste had said:

... Trestuz ne poent mie

Saver le langage en fin

D'Ebreu de griu ne de latin.

(_Ibid._ p. 355.)

[325] Among the collections of English sermons from the twelfth to the

fourteenth century, see "An Old English Miscellany," ed. Morris, Early

English Text Society, 1872, 8vo; pp. 26 ff., a translation in English

prose of the thirteenth century of some of the sermons of Maurice de

Sully; p. 187, "a lutel soth sermon" in verse, with good advice to

lovers overfond of "Malekyn" or "Janekyn."--"Old English homilies and

homiletic treatises ... of the XIIth and XIIIth centuries," ed. Morris,

E.E.T.S., 1867-73, 2 vols. 8vo; prose and verse (specimens of music in

the second series); several of those pieces are mere transcripts of

Anglo Saxon works anterior to the Conquest; p. 159, the famous "Moral

Ode," twelfth century, on the transitoriness of this life: "Ich em nu

alder thene ich wes," &c., in rhymed verse (_cf._ "Old English

Miscellany," p. 58, and "Anglia," i. p. 6).--"The Ormulum, with the

notes and glossary of Dr. R. M. White," ed. R. Holt, Oxford, 1878, 2

vols. 8vo, an immense compilation in verse, of which a part only has

been preserved, the work of Ormin, an Augustinian canon, thirteenth

century; contains a paraphrase of the gospel of the day followed by an

explanatory sermon; _cf._ Napier, "Notes on Ormulum" in "History of the

Holy Rood Tree," E.E.T.S., 1894--"Hali Meidenhad ... an alliterative

Homily of the XIIIth century," ed. Cockayne, E.E.T.S., 1866, in

prose.--"English metrical Homilies," ed. J. Small, Edinburgh, 1862, 8vo,

homilies interspersed with _exempla_, compiled ab. 1330.--"Religious

pieces in prose and verse," ed. G. G. Perry, E.E.T.S., 1867; statement

in a sermon by John Gaytrige, fourteenth century, that "oure ffadire the

byschope" has prescribed to each member of his clergy "opynly, one

ynglysche apone sonnondayes, preche and teche thaym that thay hase cure

off" (p. 2).

[326] Sermon IV. on Sunday (imitated from the French) in Morris's "Old

English Homilies," 1867. St. Paul, led by St. Michael, at the sight of

so many sufferings, weeps, and God consents that on Sundays the

condemned souls shall cease to suffer. This legend was one of the most

popular in the Middle Ages; it was told in verse or prose in Greek,

Latin, French, English, &c. See Ward, "Catalogue of MS. Romances," vol.

ii. 1893, pp. 397 ff.: "Two versions of this vision existed in Greek in

the fourth century." An English metrical version has been ed. by

Horstmann and Furnivall, "Minor Poems of the Vernon MS.," E.E.T.S.,

1892, p. 251.

[327] "Old English homilies and homiletic treatises ... of the XIIth and

XIIIth Centuries," ed. with translation, by R. Morris, London, E.E.T.S.,

1867, 8vo, vol. i. p. 39.

[328] The Psalter was translated into English, in verse, in the second

half of the thirteenth century: "Anglo-Saxon and Early English Psalter,"

Surtees Society, 1843-7, 8vo; then in prose with a full commentary by

Richard Rolle, of Hampole (on whom see below, p. 216): "The Psalter or

the Psalms of David," ed. Bramley, Oxford, 1884, 8vo; again in prose,

towards 1327, by an anonym, who has been wrongly believed to be William

de Shoreham, a monk of Leeds priory: "The earliest English prose

Psalter, together with eleven Canticles," ed. Buelbring, E.E.T.S., 1891.

The seven penitential psalms were translated in verse in the second half

of the fourteenth century by Richard of Maidstone; one is in Horstmann

and Furnivall: "Minor Poems of the Vernon MS.," p. 12.

[329] "The Story of Genesis and Exodus, an early English Song," ab.

1250, ed. R. Morris, E.E.T.S., 1865; shortly before that date a

translation in French prose of the whole of the Bible had been

completed.

[330] See, _e.g._, "The early South-English Legendary or lives of

Saints; I., MS. Laud, 108, in the Bodleian Library," ed. C. Horstmann,

Early English Text Society, 1887, 8vo.--Furnivall, "Early English Poems

and Lives of Saints," Berlin, Philological Society, 1862,

8vo.--"Materials for the history of Thomas Becket," ed. Robertson,

Rolls, 1875 ff., 7 vols. 8vo.--Several separate Lives of Saints have

been published by the E.E.T.S.

[331] Horstmann, "The early South-English Legendary," p. vii. The same

intends to publish other texts, and to clear the main problems connected

with them; "but it will," he says, "require more brains, the brains of

several generations to come, before every question relative to this

collection can be cleared." _Ibid._

[332] The latter is the MS. Laud 108 in the Bodleian, edited by

Horstmann; the other is the Harleian MS. 2277 in the British Museum;

specimens of its contents have been given by Furnivall in his "Early

English poems" (_ut supra_).

[333] From MS. Harl. 2277, in Furnivall's "Early English poems," 1862,

p. 34.

[334]

In the faireste lond huy weren | that evere mighte beo.

So cler and so light it was | that joye thare was i-nogh;

Treon thare weren fulle of fruyt | wel thicke ever-ech bough ...

Hit was evere-more day: heom thoughte, and never-more nyght.

Life of St. Brendan who "was here of oure londe," in Horstmann's

"South-English Legendary," p. 220. See also "St. Brandan, a mediaeval

Legend of the Sea," ed. T. Wright, Percy Society, 1844; Francisque

Michel, "Les Voyages Merveilleux de St. Brandan a la recherche du

Paradis terrestre, legende en vers du XIIe. Siecle," Paris, 1878; _cf._

"Navigation de la barque de Mael Duin," in d'Arbois de Jubainville's

"L'Epopee Celtique en Irlande," 1892, pp. 449 ff. (above p. 12).

[335] Renan, "Essais de morale et de critique," Paris, 1867, 3rd

edition, p. 446.

[336] By Thomas de Hales, "Incipit quidam cantus quem composuit frater

Thomas de Hales." Thomas was a friend of Adam de Marisco and lived in

the thirteenth century. "Old English Miscellany," ed. Morris, E.E.T.S.,

1872, p. 94.

[337] The "Ancren Riwle," edited and translated by J. Morton, London,

Camden Society, 1853, 4to, thirteenth century. Five MSS. have been

preserved, four in English and one in Latin, abbreviated from the

English (_cf._ Bramlette's article in "Anglia," vol. xv. p. 478). A MS.

in French: "La Reule des femmes religieuses et recluses," disappeared in

the fire of the Cottonian Library. The ladies for whom this book was

written lived at Tarrant Kaines, in Dorset, where a convent for monks

had been founded by Ralph de Kaines, son of one of the companions of the

Conqueror. It is not impossible that the original text was the French

one; French fragments subsist in the English version. The anonymous

author had taken much trouble about this work. "God knows," he says, "it

would be more agreeable to me to start on a journey to Rome than begin

to do it again." A journey to Rome was not then a pleasure trip.

[338] P. 53, Morton's translation. The beginning of the quotation runs

thus in the original: "Hwoso hevede iseid to Eve theo heo werp hire eien

therone, A! wend te awei! thu worpest eien o thi death! Hwat heved heo

ionswered? Me leove sire, ther havest wouh. Hwarof kalenges tu me? The

eppel that ich loke on is forbode me to etene, and nout forto biholden."

[339] "Vix aliquam inclusarum hujus temporis solam invenies, ante cujus

fenestram non anus garrula vel nugigerula mulier sedeat quae eam fabulis

occupet, rumoribus aut detractionibus pascat, illius vel illius monachi

vel clerici, vel alterius cujuslibet ordinis viri formam, vultum,

moresque describat. Illecebrosa quoque interserat, puellarum lasciviam,

viduarum, quibus libet quidquid libet, libertatem, conjugum in viris

fallendis explendisque voluptatibus astutiam depingat. Os interea in

risus cachinnosque dissolvitur, et venenum cum suavitate bibitum per

viscera membraque diffunditur." "De vita eremetica Liber," cap. iii.,

Reclusarun cum externis mulieribus confabulationes; in Migne's

"Patrologia," vol. xxxii. col. 1451. See above, p. 153. Aelred wrote

this treatise at the request of a sister of his, a sister "carne et

spiritu."

[340]

De le franceis, ne del rimer

Ne me dait nuls hom blamer,

Kar en Engleterre fu ne

E norri ordine et aleve.

Furnivall, "Roberd of Brunne's Handlyng Synne," &c., Roxburghe Club,

1862, 4to, p. 413.

[341] French text of the "Chateau" in Cooke, "Carmina Anglo-Normannica,"

1852, Caxton Society; English versions in Horstmann and Furnivall, "The

minor Poems of the Vernon MS.," Early English Text Society, 1892, pp.

355, 407; Weymouth: "Castell off Love ... an early English translation

of an old French poem by Robert Grosseteste," Philological Society,

1864, 4to; Halliwell, "Castle of Love," Brixton Hill, 1849, 4to. See

above, p. 205.

[342] The "Manuel des Pechiez," by William de Wadington, as well as the

English metrical translation (a very free one) written in 1303 by Robert

Mannyng, of Brunne, Lincolnshire (1260?-1340?), have been edited by

Furnivall: "Handlyng Synne," London, Roxburghe Club, 1862, 4to, contains

a number of _exempla_ and curious stories. The same Mannyng wrote, after

Peter de Langtoft, an Englishman who had written in French (see above,

p. 122), and after Wace, a metrical chronicle, from the time of Noah

down to Edward I.: "The Story of England ... A.D. 1338," ed. Furnivall,

Rolls, 1887, 2 vols. 8vo. He is possibly the author of a metrical

meditation on the Last Supper imitated from his contemporary St.

Bonaventure: "Meditacyuns on the Soper of our Lorde," ed. Cowper,

E.E.T.S., 1875, 8vo.

[343] "The Ayenbite of Inwyt or Remorse of Conscience, in the Kentish

Dialect, 1340 A.D., edited from the autograph MS.," by R. Morris,

E.E.T.S. The "Ayenbite" is the work of Dan Michel, of Northgate, Kent,

who belonged to "the bochouse of Saynt Austines of Canterberi." The work

deals with the Ten Commandments, the seven deadly sins, informs us that

"the sothe noblesse comth of the gentyl herte ... ase to the bodye: alle

we byeth children of one moder, thet is of erthe" (p. 87). Some of the

chapters of Lorens's "Somme" were adapted by Chaucer in his Parson's

tale.

[344] See in particular: "Legends of the Holy Rood, symbols of the

Passion and Cross Poems, in old English of the XIth, XIVth, and XVth

centuries," ed. Morris, E.E.T.S., 1871.--"An Old English Miscellany

containing a Bestiary, Kentish sermons, Proverbs of Alfred and religious

poems of the XIIIth century," ed. Morris, E.E.T.S., 1872.--"The

religious poems of William de Shoreham," ed. T. Wright, Percy Society,

1849, on sacraments, commandments, deadly sins, &c., first half of the

fourteenth century.--"The Minor Poems of the Vernon MS.," ed. Horstmann

and Furnivall, E.E.T.S., 1892; contains a variety of poems in the honour

of the Virgin, pious tales, "a dispitison bitweene a good man and the

devel," p. 329, meditations, laments, vision of St. Paul, &c., of

various authors and dates, mostly of the thirteenth and fourteenth

centuries.--On visions of heaven and hell (vision of St. Paul of Tundal,

of St. Patrick, of Thurkill), and on the Latin, French, and English

texts of several of them, see Ward, "Catalogue of Romances," 1893, vol.

ii. pp. 397 ff.

[345] "Cursor Mundi, the cursur of the world," ed. R. Morris, E.E.T.S.,

1874-93, 7 parts, compiled ab. 1300 from the "Historia Ecclesiastica" of

Peter Comestor, the "Fete de la Conception" of Wace, the "Chateau

d'Amour" of Grosseteste, &c. (Haenisch "Inquiry into the sources of the

Cursor Mundi," _ibid._ part vii.). The work has been wrongly attributed

to John of Lindbergh. See Morris's preface, p. xviii. _Cf._ Napier,

"History of the Holy Rood Tree," E.E.T.S., 1894 (English, Latin, and

French prose texts of the Cross legend).

[346]

For lewde men y undyrtoke,

On Englyssh tunge to make thys boke:

For many ben of swyche manere

That talys and rymys wyl blethly here

Yn gamys and festys and at the ale.

"Roberd of Brunne's Handlyng Synne, written A.D. 1303 with ... Le Manuel

des Pechiez by William of Wadington," ed. Furnivall, London, Roxburghe

Club, 1862, 4to, Prologue, p. 2.

[347] There exist Latin and English texts of his works, the latter being

generally considered as translations made by himself. His principal

composition is his poem: "The Pricke of Conscience," ed. Morris,

Philological Society, 1863, 8vo. He wrote also a prose translation of

"The Psalter," with a commentary, ed. Bramley, Oxford, 1884, 8vo, and

also "English Prose Treatises," ed. G. S., 1866, 8vo. Most of his works

in Latin have been collected under the title: "D. Richardi Pampolitani

Anglo-Saxonis eremitae ... Psalterium Davidicum atque alia ...

Monumenta," Cologne, 1536, fol.

[348] "When I had takene my syngulere purpos and lefte the seculere

habyte, and I be-ganne mare to serve God than mane, it fell one a nyghte

als I lay in my reste, in the begynnynge of my conversyone, thare

appered to me a full faire yonge womane, the whilke I had sene be-fore,

and the whilke luffed me noght lyttil in gude lufe." "English Prose

Treatises," p. 5.

[349] "Officium de Sancto Ricardo eremita." The office contains hymns in

the honour of the saint: "Rejoice, mother country of the English!..."

Letetur felix Anglorum patria ...

Pange lingua graciosi Ricardi preconium,

Pii, puri, preciosi, fugientis vicium.

"English Prose Treatises," pp. xv and xvi.

[350] "English Prose Treatises," pp. 1, 4, 5. _Cf._ Rolle's Latin text,

"Nominis Iesu encomion": "O bonum nomen, o dulce nomen," &c., in

"Richardi Pampolitani, ... Monumenta," Cologne, 1536, fol. cxliii. At

the same page, the story of the young woman.

[351] "Layamon's Brut or Chronicle of Britain, a poetical Semi-Saxon

paraphrase of the Brut of Wace," ed. by Sir Fred. Madden, London,

Society of Antiquaries, 1847, 3 vols. 8vo.--_Cf._ Ward, "Catalogue of

Romances," vol. i. 1883: "Many important additions are made to Wace, but

they seem to be mostly derived from Welsh traditions," p. 269, Wace's

"Geste des Bretons," or "Roman de Brut," written in 1155, was ed. by

Leroux de Lincy, Rouen, 1836, 2 vols. 8vo. _Cf._ P. Meyer, "De quelques

Chroniques Anglo-Normandes qui ont porte le nom de Brut," Bulletin de la

Societe des Anciens Textes francais, 1878. Layamon, son of Leovenath,

lived at Ernley, now Lower Arley, on the Severn; he uses sometimes

alliteration and sometimes rhyme in his verse. The MS. Cott. Otho C.

xiii contains a "somewhat modernised" version of Layamon's "Brut," late

thirteenth or early fourteenth century (Ward, _ibid._). On Layamon and

his work, see "Anglia," i. p. 197, and ii. p. 153.

[352] Madden, _ut supra_, vol. i. p. 1.

[353] Madden, _ut supra_, vol. ii. p. 476. The original text (printed in

short lines by Madden and here in long ones) runs thus:

Tha loh Arthur | the althele king,

And thus yeddien agon | mid gommenfulle worden:

Lien nu there Colgrim | thu were iclumben haghe

Thu clumbe a thissen hulle | wunder ane haeghe,

Swulc thu woldest to haevene | nu thu scalt to haelle;

Ther thu miht kenne | muche of thine cunne,

And gret thu ther Hengest | the cnihten wes fayerest,

Ebissa and Ossa | Octa and of thine cunne ma,

And bide heom ther wunie | wintres and sumeres,

And we scullen on londe | libben in blisse.

[354] "Roman de Brut," vol. ii. p. 57.

[355] On Robert, see above, pp. 117, 122. On the sources of his

chronicle, see Ellmer, "Anglia," vol. x. pp. 1 ff and 291 ff.

[356] "Lay of Havelok," ed. Skeat, E.E.T.S., 1868, end of thirteenth

century, p. 1.

[357] On wandering minstrels and jongleurs, see "English Wayfaring

Life," ii., chap. i., and below, p. 345, above, p. 162.

[358] "Romance of William of Palerne, translated from the French at the

command of Sir Humphrey de Bohun, ab. 1350," ed. Skeat, E.E.T.S., 1867,

8vo. l. 5533.

[359] "Cursor Mundi," ed. Morris, part v. p. 1651. A large number of

English mediaeval romances will be found among the publications of the

Early English Text Society (including among others: Ferumbras, Otuel,

Huon of Burdeux, Charles the Grete, Four Sons of Aymon, Sir Bevis of

Hamton, King Horn, Havelok the Dane, Guy of Warwick, William of Palerne,

Generides, Morte Arthure, Lonelich's History of the Holy Grail, Joseph

of Arimathie, Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight, &c.), the Camden and the

Percy Societies, the Roxburghe and the Bannatyne Clubs. Some also have

been published by Koelbing in his "Altenglische Bibliothek," Heilbronn;

by H. W. Weber: "Metrical Romances of the XIIIth, XIVth and XVth

centuries," Edinburgh, 1810, 3 vols. 8vo. &c. See also H. L. D. Ward,

"Catalogue of MS. Romances in the British Museum," 1883 ff.

[360] "King Horn, with Fragments of Floriz and Blauncheflur, and of the

Assumption of Our Lady," ed. Rawson Lumby, E.E.T.S., 1886, 8vo. "Horn"

is printed from a Cambridge MS. of the thirteenth century. A French

metrical version of this story, written by "Thomas" about 1170, was

edited by R. Brede and E. Stengel: "Das Anglonormannische Lied vom

wackern Ritter Horn," Marbourg, 1883, 8vo: "Hic est de Horn bono

milite." Concerning "Horn," see Ward, "Catalogue of Romances," i. p.

447; "Anglia," iv. p. 342; "Romania," xv. p. 575 (an article by W.

Soderhjelm, showing that the Thomas of "Tristan" and the Thomas of

"Horn" are not the same man).

[361] Another sign of a Scandinavian origin consists in the flame that

comes out of the mouth of Havelok at night, and betrays his royal

origin. The events take place at Lincoln, Grimsby, and in Denmark; the

seal of Grimsby engraved in the thirteenth century represents, besides

"Habloc" and "Goldeburgh," "Gryem," the founder of the town, and

supposed father of the hero. Gaimar, the chronicler, wrote in French

verse the story of Havelok, and we have it: "Le Lai d'Haveloc le

Danois," in Hardy and Martin "Lestorie des Engles," Rolls, 1888, vol. i.

p. 290. The English text, "Havelok the Dane," ed. Skeat, E.E.T.S., 1868,

was probably written between 1296 and 1300 (see the letter of J. W.

Hales to the _Athenaeum_, Feb. 23, 1889), _cf._ Ward's "Catalogue," i. p.

423.

[362] "Guy of Warwick," ed. Zupitza, E.E.T.S., 1875-91 (_cf._ Ward's

"Catalogue of Romances," i. p. 471). "All the Middle English versions of

the Romances of Guy of Warwick are translations from the French.... The

French romance was done into English several times. We possess the whole

or considerable fragments of, at least, four different Middle English

versions" (Zupitza's Preface).

[363] Part of the adventures of Fulke belongs to history; his rebellion

actually took place in 1201. His story was told in a French poem,

written before 1314 and turned into prose before 1320 (the text, though

in French, is remarkable for its strong English bias); an English poem

on the same subject is lost. (Ward, "Catalogue of Romances," i. pp. 501

ff.) The version in French prose has been edited by J. Stephenson, with

his Ralph de Coggeshall, Rolls, 1875, p. 277, and by Moland and

d'Hericault in their "Nouvelles en prose du quatorzieme Siecle," Paris,

1858. See also the life of the outlaw Hereward, in Latin, twelfth

century: "De Gestis Herewardi Saxonis," in the "Chroniques

Anglo-Normandes," of F. Michel, Rouen, 1836-40, vol. ii.

[364] It is possible that Robin Hood existed, in which case it seems

probable he lived under Edward II. "The stories that are told about him,

however, had almost all been previously told, connected with the names

of other outlaws such as Hereward and Fulke Fitz-Warin." Ward,

"Catalogue of Romances," i. pp. 517 ff. He was the hero of many songs,

from the fourteenth century; most of those we have belong, however, to

the sixteenth.

[365] On the transformations of Guy of Warwick and representations of

him in chap books, see "English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare," pp

64, 350.

[366] "Cursor Mundi," i. p. 21. _Cf._ Bartholomew the Englishman, in his

"De Proprietatibus Rerum," book xv., chap. xiv., thus translated by

Trevisa: "Englonde is fulle of myrthe and of game and men oft tymes able

to myrth and game, free men of harte and with tongue, but the honde is

more better and more free than the tongue."--"Cest acteur monstre bien

en ce chapitre qu'il fut Anglois," observes with some spite Corbichon,

the French translator of Bartholomew, writing, it is true, during the

Hundred Years' War.

[367] English text: "Dame Siriz" in Th. Wright, "Anecdota Literaria,"

London, 1844, 8vo, p. 1; and in Goldbeck and Matzner, "Altenglische

Sprachproben," Berlin, 1867, p. 103. French text in the "Castoiement

d'un pere a son fils," Barbazan and Meon, "Fabliaux," vol. ii. The

English text belongs to the end of the thirteenth century, and the story

is localised in England; mention is made of "Botolfston," otherwise, St.

Botolph or Boston. See above, p. 154; on a dramatisation of the story,

see below, p. 447.

[368] Story of a drinking horn from which husbands with faithless wives

cannot drink without spilling the contents. Arthur invites his knights

to try the experiment, and is not a little surprised to find that it

turns against himself. French text: "Le lai du Cor, restitution

critique," by F. Wulff, Lund, 1888, 8vo, written by Robert Biquet in the

twelfth century; only one MS. (copied in England) has been preserved.

English text: "The Cokwolds Daunce," from a MS. of the fifteenth

century, in Hazlitt's "Remains of the early popular poetry of England,"

London, 1864, 4 vols, 8vo, vol. i. p. 35. _Cf._ Le "Mantel Mautaille,"

in Montaiglon and Raynaud, "Recueil General," vol. iii. and "La Coupe

Enchantee," by La Fontaine.

[369] French text: "De pleine Bourse de Sens," by Jean le Galois, in

Montaiglon and Raynaud, "Recueil General," vol. iii. p. 88. English

text: "How a Merchande dyd his wyfe betray," in Hazlitt's "Remains" (_ut

supra_), vol. i. p. 196. Of the same sort are "Sir Cleges" (Weber,

"Metrical Romances," 1810, vol. i.), the "Tale of the Basyn" (in

Hartshorne, "Ancient Metrical Tales," London, 1829, p. 202), a fabliau,

probably derived from a French original, etc.

[370] English text: "The Land of Cokaygne" (end of the fourteenth

century, seems to have been originally composed in the thirteenth), in

Goldbeck and Matzner, "Altengische Sprachproben," Berlin, 1867, part i.,

p. 147; also in Furnivall, "Early English Poems," Berlin, 1862, p. 156.

French text in Barbazan and Meon, "Fabliaux," vol. iii. p. 175: "C'est

li Fabliaus de Coquaigne."

[371] "Aucassin and Nicolete," Andrew Lang's translation, London, 1887,

p. 12. The French original in verse and prose, a _cante-fable_, belongs

to the twelfth century. Text in Moland and d'Hericault, "Nouvelles

francoises en prose, du treizieme siecle" (the editors wrongly referred

"Aucassin" to that century), Paris, 1856, 16mo.

[372] Knights are represented in many MSS. of English make, fighting

against butterflies or snails, and undergoing the most ridiculous

experiences; for example, in MS. 10 E iv. and 2 B vii. in the British

Museum, early fourteenth century; the caricaturists derive their ideas

from French tales written in derision of knighthood. Poems with the same

object were composed in English; one of a later date has been preserved:

"The Turnament of Totenham" (Hazlitt's "Remains," iii. p. 82); the

champions of the tourney are English artisans:

Ther hoppyd Hawkyn,

Ther dawnsid Dawkyn,

Ther trumpyd Tymkyn,

And all were true drynkers.

[373]

He putteth in hys pawtener

A kerchyf and a comb,

A shewer and a coyf

To bynd with his loks,

And ratyl on the rowbyble

And in non other boks

Ne mo;

Mawgrey have the bysshop

That lat hyt so goo.

"A Poem on the times of Edward II.," ed. Hardwick, Percy Society, 1849,

p. 8.

[374] "The Vox and Wolf," time of Edward I., in Matzner, "Altenglische

Sprachproben," Berlin, 1867, part i. p. 130; also in Th. Wright, "Latin

Stories," 1842, p. xvi. This story of the adventure in the well forms

Branch IV. of the French text. Martin's "Roman de Renart," Strasbourg,

1882, vol. i. p. 146.

[375] Tartufe, i. 6.

[376] "Amis and Amiloun," ed. Koelbing, Heilbronn, 1884, 8vo, French and

English texts, in verse. French text in prose, in Moland and

d'Hericault, "Nouvelles ... du XIIIe. Siecle," 1856, 16mo.--French text

of "Floire" in Edelstand du Meril, "Poemes du XIIIe. Siecle," Paris,

1856. English text: "Floris and Blauncheflur, mittelenglisches Gedicht

aus dem 13 Jahrhundert," ed. Hausknecht, Berlin, 1885, 8vo; see also

Lumby, "Horn ... with fragments of Floriz," E.E.T.S., 1886. The

popularity of this tale is shown by the fact that four or five different

versions of it in English have come down to us.--Lays by Marie de France

were also translated into English: "Le Lay le Freine," in verse, of the

beginning of the fourteenth century. English text in "Anglia," vol. iii.

p. 415; "Sir Launfal," by Thomas Chestre, fifteenth century, in

"Ritson's Metrical Romances," 1802.

[377] Examples of "estrifs," debates or "disputoisons": "The Thrush and

the Nightingale," on the merits of women, time of Edward I. (with a

title in French: "Si comence le cuntent par entre le mauvis et la

russinole"); "The Debate of the Carpenter's Tools" (both in Hazlitt's

"Remains," vol. i. p. 50, and i. p. 79); "The Debate of the Body and the

Soul" (Matzner's "Altenglische Sprachproben," part i. p. 90), same

subject in French verse, thirteenth century, "Monumenta Franciscana,"

vol. i. p. 587; "The Owl and the Nightingale" (ed. Stevenson, Roxburghe

Club, 1838, 4to). This last, one of the most characteristic of all,

belongs to the thirteenth century, and consists in a debate between the

two birds concerning their respective merits; they are very learned, and

quote Alfred's proverbs, but they are not very well bred, and come

almost to insults and blows.

[378] Litanies of love:

Love is wele, love is wo, love is geddede,

Love is lif, love is deth, &c.

Th. Wright, "Anecdota Literaria," London, 1844, 8vo, p. 96, time of

Edward I., imitated from the "Chastoiement des Dames," in Barbazan and

Meon, vol. ii.

[379] Th. Wright, "Specimens of Lyric Poetry, composed in England in the

reign of Edward I.," Percy Society, 1842, 8vo, p. 43.

[380] They wrote in French, Latin, and English, using sometimes the

three languages in the same song, sometimes only two of them:

Scripsi haec carmina in tabulis!

Mon ostel est en mi la vile de Paris:

May y sugge namore, so wel me is;

Yef hi deye for love of hire, duel hit ys.

Wright, "Specimens of Lyric Poetry," p. 64.

[381]

Femmes portent les oyls veyrs

E regardent come faucoun.

T. Wright, "Specimens," p. 4.

[382]

Heo hath a mury mouth to mele,

With lefly rede lippes lele

Romaunz forte rede.

Ibid., p. 34.

[383] Ibid., p. 51.

BOOK III.

_ENGLAND TO THE ENGLISH._

CHAPTER I.

_THE NEW NATION._

I.

In the course of the fourteenth century, under Edward III. and Richard

II., a double fusion, which had been slowly preparing during the

preceding reigns, is completed and sealed for ever; the races

established on English ground are fused into one, and the languages they

spoke become one also. The French are no longer superposed on the

natives; henceforth there are only English in the English island.

Until the fourteenth year of Edward III.'s reign, whenever a murder was

committed and the authors of it remained unknown, the victim was _prima

facie_ assumed to be French, "Francigena," and the whole county was

fined. But the county was allowed to prove, if it could, that the dead

man was only an Englishman, and in that case there was nothing to pay.

Bracton, in the thirteenth century, is very positive; an inquest was

necessary, "ut sciri possit utrum interfectus _Anglicus_ fuerit, vel

_Francigena_."[384] The _Anglicus_ and the _Francigena_ therefore still

subsisted, and were not equal before the law. The rule had not fallen

into disuse, since a formal statute was needed to repeal it; the statute

of 1340, which abolishes the "presentement d'Englescherie,"[385] thus

sweeping away one of the most conspicuous marks left behind by the

Conquest.

About the same time the fusion of idioms took place, and the English

language was definitively constituted. At the beginning of the

fourteenth century, towards 1311, the text of the king's oath was to be

found in Latin among the State documents, and a note was added declaring

that "if the king was illiterate," he was to swear in French[386]; it

was in the latter tongue that Edward II. took his oath in 1307; the idea

that it could be sworn in English did not occur. But when the century

was closing, in 1399, an exactly opposite phenomenon happened. Henry of

Lancaster usurped the throne and, in the Parliament assembled at

Westminster, pronounced in English the solemn words by which he claimed

the crown: "In the name of Fadir, Son and Holy Gost, I, Henry of

Lancastre, chalenge yis Rewme of Yngland."[387]

During this interval, the union of the two languages had taken place.

The work of aggregation can be followed in its various phases, and

almost from year to year. In the first half of the century, the "lowe

men," the "rustics," _rurales homines_, are still keen to learn French,

_satagunt omni nisu_; they wish to frenchify, _francigenare_,[388]

themselves, in order to imitate the nobles, and be more thought of.

Their efforts had a remarkable result, precisely for the reason that

they never succeeded in speaking pure French, and that in their

ill-cleared brains the two languages were never kept distinctly apart.

The nobles, cleverer men, could speak both idioms without confounding

them, but so could not these _rurales_, who lisped the master's tongue

with difficulty, mixing together the two vocabularies and the two

grammars, mistaking the genders, assigning, for want of better

knowledge, the neuter to all the words that did not designate beings

with a sex, in other words, strange as it may seem, creating the new

language. It was on the lips of "lowe men" that the fusion first began;

they are the real founders of modern English; the "French of

Stratford-at-Bow" had not less to do with it than the "French of Paris."

Even the nobles had not been able to completely escape the consequences

of a perpetual contact with the _rurales_. Had these latter been

utterly ignorant of French, the language of the master would have been

kept purer, but they spoke the French idiom after a fashion, and their

manner of speaking it had a contagious influence on that of the great.

In the best families, the children being in constant communication

with native servants and young peasants, spoke the idiom of France

less and less correctly. From the end of the thirteenth century and

the beginning of the fourteenth, they confuse French words that bear

a resemblance to each other, and then also commences for them that

annoyance to which so many English children have been subjected, from

generation to generation down to our time: the difficulty of knowing

when to say _mon_ and _ma_--"kaunt dewunt dire moun et ma"--that

is how to distinguish the genders. They have to be taught by manuals,

and the popularity of one written by Walter de Biblesworth,[389] in the

fourteenth century, shows how greatly such treatises were needed. "Dear

sister," writes Walter to the Lady Dionyse de Montchensy, "I have

composed this work so that your children can know the properties of

the things they see, and also when to say _mon_ and _ma_, _son_ and

_sa_, _le_ and _la_, _moi_ and _je_." And he goes on showing at the

same time the maze and the way out of it: "You have _la levre_ and

_le lievre_; and _la livre_ and _le livre_. The _levre_ closes the teeth

in; _le lievre_ the woods inhabits; _la livre_ is used in trade; _le

livre_ is used at church."[390]

Inextricable difficulties! And all the harder to unravel that

Anglo-Saxon too had genders, equally arbitrary, which did not agree with

the French ones. It is easy to conceive that among the various

compromises effected between the two idioms, from which English was

finally to emerge, the principal should be the suppression of this

cumbersome distinction of genders.

What happened in the manor happened also in the courts of justice. There

French was likewise spoken, it being the rule, and the trials were

apparently not lacking in liveliness, witness this judge whom we see

paraphrasing the usual formula: "Allez a Dieu," or "Adieu," and wishing

the defendant, none other than the bishop of Chester, to "go to the

great devil"--"Allez au grant deable."[391]--("'What,' said Ponocrates,

'brother John, do you swear?' 'It is only,' said the monk, 'to adorn my

speech. These are colours of Ciceronian rhetoric.'")--But from most of

the speeches registered in French in the "Year-books," it is easily

gathered that advocates, _serjeants_ as they were called, did not

express themselves without difficulty, and that they delivered in French

what they had thought in English.

Their trouble goes on increasing. In 1300 a regulation in force at

Oxford allowed people who had to speak in a suit to express themselves

in "_any_ language generally understood."[392] In the second half of the

century, the difficulties have reached such a pitch that a reform

becomes indispensable; counsel and clients no longer understand each

other. In 1362, a statute ordains that henceforward all pleas shall be

conducted in English, and they shall be enrolled in Latin; and that in

the English law courts "the French language, which is too unknown in the

said realm,"[393] shall be discontinued.

This ignorance is now notorious. Froissart remarks on it; the English,

he says, do not observe treaties faithfully, "and to this they are

inclined by their not understanding very well all the terms of the

language of France; and one does not know how to force a thing into

their head unless it be all to their advantage."[394] Trevisa, about

the same time, translating into English the chronicle of Ralph Higden,

reaches the passage where it is said that all the country people

endeavour to learn French, and inserts a note to rectify the statement.

This manner, he writes, is since the great pestilence (1349) "sumdel

i-chaunged," and to-day, in the year 1385, "in alle the gramere scoles

of Engelond, children leveth Frensche and construeth and lerneth an

Englische." This allows them to make rapid progress; but now they

"conneth na more Frensche than can hir (their) lift heele, and that is

harme for hem, and (if) they schulle passe the see and travaille in

straunge landes and in many other places. Also gentil men haveth now

moche i-left for to teche here children Frensche."[395]

The English themselves laugh at their French; they are conscious of

speaking, like Chaucer's Prioress, the French of Stratford-at-Bow, or,

like Avarice in the "Visions" of Langland, that "of the ferthest end of

Norfolke."[396]

There will shortly be found in the kingdom personages of importance,

exceptions it is true, with whom it will be impossible to negotiate in

French. This is the case with the ambassadors sent by Henry IV., that

same Henry of Lancaster who had claimed the crown by an English speech,

to Flanders and France in 1404. They beseech the "Paternitates ac

Magnificentias" of the Grand Council of France to answer them in Latin,

French being "like Hebrew" to them; but the Magnificents of the Grand

Council, conforming to a tradition which has remained unbroken down to

our day, refuse to employ for the negotiation any language but their

own.[397] Was it not still, as in the time of Brunetto Latini, the

modern tongue most prized in Europe? In England even, men were found who

agreed to this, while rendering to Latin the tribute due to it; and the

author of one of the numerous treatises composed in this country for the

benefit of those who wished to keep up their knowledge of French said:

"Sweet French is the finest and most graceful tongue, the noblest speech

in the world after school Latin, and the one most esteemed and beloved

by all people.... And it can be well compared to the speech of the

angels of heaven for its great sweetness and beauty."[398]

In spite of these praises, the end of French, as the language "most

esteemed and beloved," was near at hand in England. Poets like Gower

still use it in the fourteenth century for their ballads, and prose

writers like the author of the "Croniques de London"[399]; but these are

exceptions. It remains the idiom of the Court and the great; the Black

Prince writes in French the verses that will be graven on his tomb:

these are nothing but curious cases. Better instructed than the lawyers

and suitors in the courts of justice, the members of Parliament continue

to use it; but English makes its appearance even among them, and in 1363

the Chancellor has opened the session by a speech in English, the first

ever heard in Westminster.

The survival of French was at last nothing but an elegance; it was still

learnt, but only as Madame de Sevigne studied Italian, "pour entretenir

noblesse." Among the upper class the knowledge of French was a

traditional accomplishment, and it has continued to be one to our day.

At the beginning of the sixteenth century the laws were still, according

to habit, written in French; but complaints on this score were made to

Henry VIII., and his subjects pointed out to him that this token of the

ancient subjection of England to the Normans of France should be

removed. This mark has disappeared, not however without leaving some

trace behind, as laws continue to be assented to by the sovereign in

French: "La Reine le veut." They are vetoed in the same manner: "La

Reine s'avisera"; though this last manner is less frequently resorted to

than in the time of the Plantagenets.

French disappears. It does not disappear so much because it is forgotten

as because it is gradually absorbed. It disappears, and so does the

Anglo-Saxon; a new language is forming, an offspring of the two others,

but distinct from them, with a new grammar, versification, and

vocabulary. It less resembles the Anglo-Saxon of Alfred's time than the

Italian of Dante resembles Latin.

The vocabulary is deeply modified. It numbered before the Conquest a few

words of Latin origin, but not many; they were words recalling the great

works of the Romans, such as _street_ and _chester_, from _strata_ and

_castrum_, or else words borrowed from the language of the clerks, and

concerning mainly religion, such as _mynster_, _tempel_, _bisceop_,

derived from _monasterium_, _templum_, _episcopus_, &c. The Conquest was

productive of a great change, but not all at once; the languages, as has

been seen, remained at first distinctly separate; then in the

thirteenth, and especially in the fourteenth century, they permeated

each other, and were blended in one. In 1205, only fifty words of Latin

origin were found in the sixteen thousand long lines of Layamon's

"Brut"; a hundred can be counted in the first five hundred lines of

Robert of Gloucester about 1298, and a hundred and seventy in the first

five hundred lines of Robert Mannyng of Brunne, in 1303.[400]

As we advance further into the fourteenth century, the change is still

more rapid. Numerous families of words are naturalised in England, and

little by little is constituted that language the vocabulary of which

contains to-day twice as many words drawn from French or Latin as from

Germanic sources. At the end of Skeat's "Etymological Dictionary,"[401]

there is a table of the words of the language classified according to

their derivation; the words borrowed from Germanic or Scandinavian

idioms fill seven columns and a half; those taken from the French, and

the Romance or classic tongues, sixteen columns.

It is true the proportion of words used in a page of ordinary English

does not correspond to these figures. With some authors in truth it is

simply reversed; with Shakespeare, for instance, or with Tennyson, who

exhibit a marked predilection for Anglo-Saxon words. It is nevertheless

to be observed: first, that the constitution of the vocabulary with its

majority of Franco-Latin words is an actual fact; then that in a page of

ordinary English the proportion of words having a Germanic origin is

increased by the number of Anglo-Saxon articles, conjunctions, and

pronouns, words that are merely the servants of the others, and are, as

they should be, more numerous than their masters. A nearer approach to

the numbers supplied by the lists of Skeat will be made if real words

only are counted, those which are free and independent citizens of the

language, and not the shadow nor the reflection of any other.

The contributive part of French in the new vocabulary corresponds to the

branches of activity reserved to the new-comers. From their maternal

idiom have been borrowed the words that composed the language of war, of

commerce, of jurisprudence, of science, of art, of metaphysics, of pure

thought, and also the language of games, of pastimes, of tourneys, and

of chivalry. In some cases no compromise took place, neither the French

nor the Anglo-Saxon word would give way and die, and they have both come

down to us, alive and irreducible: _act_ and _deed_; _captive_ and

_thrall_; _chief_ and _head_, &c.[402] It is a trace of the Conquest,

like the formula: "La Reine le veut."

Chaucer, in whose time these double survivals were naturally far more

numerous than they are to-day, often uses both words at once, sure of

being thus intelligible to all:

They callen love a woodnes or a folye.[403]

Versification is transformed in the same proportion; here again the two

prosodies arrive at a compromise. Native verse had two ornaments: the

number of accents and alliteration; French verse in the fourteenth

century had also two ornaments, the number of syllables and rhyme. The

French gave up their strict number of syllables, and consented to note

the number of accents; the natives discarded alliteration and accepted

rhyme in its stead. Thus was English verse created, its cadence being

Germanic and its rhyme French, and such was the prosody of Chaucer, who

wrote his "Canterbury Tales" in rhymed English verse, with five accents,

but with syllables varying in number from nine to eleven.

The fusion of the two versifications was as gradual as that of the two

vocabularies had been. Layamon in the thirteenth century mingled both

prosodies in his "Brut," sometimes using alliteration, sometimes rhyme,

and occasionally both at once. The fourteenth century is the last in

which alliterative verse really flourished, though it survived even

beyond the Renaissance. In the sixteenth century a new form was tried;

rhyme was suppressed mainly in imitation of the Italians and the

ancients, and blank verse was created, which Shakespeare and Milton used

in their masterpieces; but alliteration never found place again in the

normal prosody of England.

Grammar was affected in the same way. In the Anglo-Saxon grammar, nouns

and adjectives had declensions as in German; and not very simple ones.

"Not only had our old adjectives a declension in three genders, but more

than this, it had a double set of trigeneric inflexions, Definite and

Indefinite, Strong and Weak, just like that which makes the beginner's

despair in German."[404] Verbs were conjugated without auxiliaries; and

as there was no particular inflection to indicate the future, the

present was used instead, a very indifferent substitute, which did not

contribute much to the clearness of the phrase. Degrees of comparison in

the adjectives were marked, not by adverbs, as in French, but by

differences in the terminations. In short, the relations of words to

each other, as well as the particular part they had to play in the

phrase, were not indicated by other special words, prepositions, adverbs

or auxiliaries, those useful menials, but by variations in the endings

of the terms themselves, that is, by inflections. The necessity for a

compromise with the French, which had lost its primitive declensions and

inflections, hastened an already begun transformation and resulted in

the new language's possessing in the fourteenth century a grammar

remarkably simple, brief and clear. Auxiliaries were introduced, and

they allowed every shade of action, action that has been, or is, or will

be, or would be, to be clearly defined. The gender of nouns used to

present all the singularities which are one of the troubles in German or

French; _mona_, moon, was masculine as in German; _sunne_, sun, was

feminine; _wif_, wife, was not feminine but neuter; as was also _maeden_,

maiden. "A German gentleman," as "Philologus," has so well observed,

"writes a masculine letter of feminine love to a neuter young lady with

a feminine pen and feminine ink on masculine sheets of neuter paper, and

encloses it in a masculine envelope with a feminine address to his

darling, though neuter, Gretchen. He has a masculine head, a feminine

hand, and a neuter heart."[405] Anglo-Saxon gentlemen were in about the

same predicament, before William the Conqueror came in his own way to

their help and rescued them from this maze. In the transaction which

took place, the Anglo-Saxon and the French both gave up the

arbitrariness of their genders; nouns denoting male beings became

masculine, those denoting female beings became feminine; all the others

became neuter; _wife_ and _maiden_ resumed their sex, while _nation_,

_sun_ and _moon_ were neuter. Nouns and adjectives lost their

declensions; adjectives ceased to vary in their endings according to the