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]