LEGAL DOCUMENTS.
From the seventh century down to the end of our period we have a series of legal documents, such as grants of land, purchases, memorials, written wills, memoranda of nuncupatory wills, royal writs, family arrangements, interchanges of land. The first thing to be noticed about this whole body of writings is that they, at the beginning of the series, are entirely in Latin; then a few words of the vulgar tongue creep in, and then this native element goes on increasing until we have entire documents in Saxon. Nevertheless, it remained a prevalent habit in the case of transfer of land to have the grant written in Latin, and the boundaries and other details expressed in Anglo-Saxon. This is a large body of literature, and it fills six octavo volumes in Kemble’s “Codex Diplomaticus.” Being of very various degrees of genuineness—some absolute originals, some faulty copies, some too carefully amended, down to the veriest forgeries—there is here a good field for the exercise of critical discrimination. And there are many curious and interesting details to reward the patient student. The following extract is from a memorial addressed to Edward, the son of Alfred, touching matters that had mostly fallen in his father’s time; and it opens a glimpse of Alfred in his bed-chamber receiving a committee that came to report progress.
| Tha bær mon tha boc forth and rædde hie; tha stod seo hondseten eal thæron. Tha thuhte us eallan the æt thære some wæran thet Helmstan wære athe thæs the near. Tha næs Æthelm na fullice gethafa ær we eodan in to cinge and rædan eall hu we hit reahtan and be hwy we hit reahtan: and Æthelm stod self thær inne mid; and cing stod thwoh his honda æt Weardoran innan thon bure. Tha he thæt gedon hæfde tha ascade he Æthelm hwy hit him ryht ne thuhte thæt we him gereaht hæfdan; cwæth thæt he nan ryhtre gethencan ne meahte thonne he thone ath agifan moste gif he meahte. | Then they brought forward the conveyance and read it; there stood the signatures all thereon. Then seemed it to all of us who were at the arbitration, that Helmstan was all the nearer to the oath. Then was not Æthelm fully convinced before we went in to the king and explained everything—how we reported it, and on what grounds we had so reported it: and Æthelm himself stood there in the room with us; and the king stood and washed his hands at Wardour in the chamber. When he had done that, then he asked Æthelm why it seemed to him not right what we had reported to him; he said that he could think of nothing more just than that he might be allowed to discharge the oath if he were able. |
[91] The Anglo-Saxon laws have been edited by William Lambarde, London, 1568, 4to.; Abraham Whelock, Cambridge, 1644; Wilkins, London, 1721, folio; Dr. Reinhold Schmid, Leipzig, 1832; Thorpe, 1840; Schmid, ed. 2, 1858. It is Schmid’s second edition that is spoken of above.
[92] Ine is to be pronounced as a word of two syllables.
[93] Palgrave, “English Commonwealth,” i., 46.
[94] Grimm, “Legal Antiquities,” § 10, quotes some widely-scattered parallels: from Rügen he produces the proverb, “Mit der exe stelt men nicht” (with the axe men steal not); and from Wetterau, “Wan einer hauet, so ruft er” (when one hews, he shouts). He dubs the Anglo-Saxon formula the more poetical (poetischer).
[95] “These secret compositions are forbidden by nearly every early code of Europe; for by such a proceeding both the judge and the Crown lost their profits. The “Capitulary” of 593 puts the receiver of a secret composition on a level with the thief: ‘Qui furtum vult celare, et occulte sine judice compositionem acceperit, latroni similis est.’ And even now in common law, the rule is to obtain the sanction of the Court for permission ‘to speak with the prosecutor,’ and thus terminate the suit by compounding the affair in private.”—Thorpe. The reason assigned is, however, not the whole reason.
[96] “Saxons in England,” vol. ii., p. 208.
[97] I.e., go to the Danish camp in East Anglia.
[98] Here we have to understand two distinct kings of the name of Guthrum.
[99] Coote, “The Romans of Britain,” p. 397.
[100] “Documents Illustrative of English History,” p. 60.
[101] “Ancient Law,” chap. x. init.
[102] Palgrave, “Anglo-Saxon Commonwealth;” Stubbs, “Constitutional History;” Heinrich Brunner, “Die Entstehung der Schwurgerichte,” Berlin, 1872.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE CHRONICLES.
Of the historical writings that remain from the Anglian period—namely, those of Æddi and Bede, we have already spoken; the subject of the present chapter will be the Saxon Chronicles and the Latin histories which are more or less related to these Chronicles.
The habit of putting together annals began to be formed very early. In our Chronicles there are some entries that may perhaps be older than the conversion of our people. The contributors to Bede’s “History” would appear to have sent in their parts more or less in the annalistic form. That form is even now but slightly veiled in the grouped arrangement into which the venerable historian has, with little reconstruction but considerable skill, cast his materials. Annal-writing, we may venture to say, had by his time become a recognised habit in literature, and there is extant a brief Northumbrian Chronicle which ends soon after Bede’s death.[103] Continuous with this we have a series of annals which were produced in the north, and which are now imbedded in the West Saxon Chronicles; but the traces of their birth are not obliterated. Such vernacular annals were probably at first designed as little more than notes and memoranda to serve for a Latin history to be written another day; but the Danish wars broke the tradition of Latin learning, and made a wide opening which gave opportunity for the elevation of a vernacular literature. There is no part of Anglo-Saxon literature more characterised by spontaneity than are the Saxon Chronicles. Nowhere can we better see how the mother-tongue received the devolution of the literary office in an unexpected way when the learned literature was suddenly and violently displaced.
One of the strong features of these Chronicles is the genealogies of the kings, ascending mostly to Woden as their mythical ancestor. The most complete of these is that of the West Saxon kings, which is prefixed to the Parker manuscript in manner of a preface. This genealogy was originally made for Ecgbryht, who reigned from 800 to 836,—it was made at his death, and it comprised the accession of his son, Æthelwulf. Subsequently an addition was made, which continued the line of kings down to Alfred, and closed with the date of his accession. This, when combined with the fact that the first hand in this book ends with 891, seems to fix the date of the Winchester Chronicle. This interesting appendix is as follows:—
| Ond tha feng Æthelbald his sunu to rice and heold v gear. Tha feng Æthelbryht his brother to and heold v gear. Tha feng Æthered hiera brothur to rice and heold v gear. Tha feng Ælfred hiera brothur to rice and tha wæs agan his ielde xxiii wintra, and ccc and xcvi wintra thæs the his cyn ærest Wessexana lond on Wealum geodon. | And then Æthelbald his son took to the realm and held it 5 years. Then succeeded Æthelbryht his brother, and held 5 years. Then Æthered their brother took to the realm, and held 5 years. Then took Alfred their brother to the realm, and then was agone of his age 23 years; and 396 years from that his race erst took Wessex from the Welsh. |
These Chronicles are remarkable for a certain unconscious ease and homeliness. Even when, in the course of their progress, they grow more copious and mature, they hardly discover any consciousness of literary dignity. Of the Latin writings of the Anglo-Saxon period this could not be said. This naïveté is naturally more observable in the earlier parts, which seem like rescued antiquities, which might have been built into their place when, in the latter end of the eighth or beginning of the ninth century, the importance of the national and vernacular chronicle began to be realised.
Some of the brief entries concerning the various settlements on the coasts and the early contests with the Britons have the appearance of traditional reminiscences that had been preserved in popular songs. Such is that of 473, that the Welsh flew the English like fire; 491, that Ælle and Cissa besieged Andredescester, and slew all those that therein dwelt—there was not so much as one Bret left; 584, how that Ceawlin, in his expedition up the Vale of Severn, where his brother fell, took many towns and untold spoils, and, angry, he turned away to his own.
Mingled with these are entries which, though ingenious, are hardly less spontaneous. Such are those in which there is a manifest rationalising upon the names of historical sites, and a fanciful discovery of their heroes or founders. Thus, in 501, we read that Port landed in Britain at the place called Portsmouth. Now, we know that the first syllable in Portsmouth is the Latin portus, a harbour, and it seems plain that here we have a name made into a personage. In 534 we read how Cynric gave the Isle of Wight to Stuf and Wihtgar, and how Wihtgar died in 544, and was buried at Wihtgaraburg, also called Wihtgaræsburh. Here the person of Wihtgar has been made out of the name of the place, because that name was understood as meaning Castle of Wihtgar. But it meant the Burgh “of” Wihtgar only in the sense of the Burgh which was called Wihtgar. The last syllable, gar, is the British word for burg, fortress, castle, which the Welsh call Caer to this day. And the Saxons, having often to use the word gar in this sense—much as our reporters of New Zealand affairs have to speak of a pa—distinguished the gar that was in Wiht, as Wihtgar, and then they added their own word, burh, as the interpretation of gar, and after a time the historian, finding the name of Wihtgarburh, took Wihtgar for a man, and called it Wihtgar’s Burg, Wihtgaresburh, a genitive form which still lives in “Carisbrooke.”
The originals of the Chronicles are preserved in seven different books. They are known by the signatures A, B, C, D, E, F, G.
A, the famous book in Archbishop Parker’s library, preserved in Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. The structure of this book indicates that it was made in 891, and, indeed, the penmanship of this copy—at least, of the compilation—may possibly be as old as the lifetime of King Alfred. It bears the local impress of Winchester, except in the latest continuation, 1005-1070, which appears to belong to Canterbury. It seems to have passed from Canterbury to the place where it is now deposited; but that it was a Winchester book in its basis seems indicated by the regular notices of the bishops of Wessex from 634 to 754, by the diction of the compilation to 891, and especially by that of the remarkable continuation, 893-897.
B, British Museum, Cotton Library, Tiberius A. vi. Closes with the year 977, and was probably written at St. Augustine’s, Canterbury.
C, British Museum, Cotton Library, Tiberius B. i. The first handwriting stops at 1046, and is probably of that date. Closes with 1066. Apparently a work of the monks of Abingdon.
D, British Museum, Cotton Library, Tiberius B. iv. The first hand, which stops at 1016, may well be of that date. Closes with 1079. This book contains strong internal evidence of being a product of Worcester Abbey.
E, Bodleian Library, Laud, 636. This is the fullest of all extant Chronicles; it embodies most of the contents of the others, and it adds the largest quantity of new and original history. It gives seventy-five years’ history beyond any of the others, and closes with the death of Stephen in 1154. The local relations of this book are unmistakable. The first hand ends with 1121, and all the evidence goes to prove that this book was prepared at that date in the abbey of Peterborough. On Friday, August 3, 1116, a great fire had occurred at Peterborough which had destroyed the town and a large part of the abbey, and this book was apparently undertaken among the acts of restoration. The varying shades of Saxon which this book contains, both in the compilation and in the several continuations, render it of great value for the history of the English language, especially in the obscure period of the twelfth century.
F, British Museum, Cotton Library, Domitian A. viij. A bilingual Chronicle, Latin and Saxon, which, by internal evidence, is assigned to Christ Church, Canterbury. The abrupt ending at 1058 is no indication of the book’s date: it was written late in the twelfth century.
G, British Museum, Cotton Library, Otho B. xi. A late copy of A, made probably in the twelfth century. It nearly perished in the fire of 1731, and only three leaves have been rescued; but happily the book had, before this disaster, been published entire and without intermixture by Wheloc; and, consequently, his edition is now the chief representative of this authority.
Of these books there are three which are distinguished above the rest by individuality of character. These are the Parker book (A); the Worcester book (D); and the Peterborough book (E). A Chronicle may have a marked individuality in two ways—that is to say, either in its compilation or in its continuation. I will give an example of each kind. The first shall be from the Worcester Chronicle, which combines with the former stock of southern history a valuable body of northern history between the years 737 and 806. The following are selected as being annals which, either wholly or in part, are derived from a northern source. The new matter is indicated by inverted commas:—
In these few selections the orthography shows occasional relics of the northern dialect; and an expression here and there, such as “Ceaster” for York, indicates the writer’s locality. Apart, however, from such traces, the contents and the domestic interest would sufficiently declare the home of these annals. They are specimens of the vernacular annals of the north, which are now best seen in bulk in Simeon of Durham’s Latin Chronicle.
Our next example will serve to illustrate the free writing of an original continuation. It is taken from the Winchester Chronicle (A). This Chronicle exhibits, in the annals of 893-897, the first considerable piece of original historical composition that we have in the vernacular. Indeed, we may say that these pages, on the whole, contain the finest effort of early prose writing that we possess. The quotation relates how Alfred set to work to construct a navy:—
| Thy ilcan geare drehton tha hergas on East Englum and on Northhymbrum West Seaxna lond swithe be thæm suth stæthe . mid stæl hergum . ealra swithust mid thæm æscum the hie fela geara ær timbredon. Tha het Alfred cyng timbran lang scipu ongen tha æscas[104] . tha wæron fulneah tu swa lange swa tha othru . sume hæfdon lx ara . sume ma. Tha wæron ægther ge swiftran ge unwealtran . ge eac hieran thonne tha othru. Næron nawther ne on Fresisc gescæpene . ne on Denisc . bute swa him selfum thuhte thæt hie nytwyrthoste beon meahten. | That same year the armies in East Anglia and in Northhymbria distressed the land of the West Saxons very much about the south coast with marauding invasions; most of all with the “æscas” that they had built many years before. Then king Alfred gave orders to build long ships against the “æscas;” those were well-nigh twice as long as the others; some had 60 oars, some more. Those were both swifter and steadier, and also higher than the others. They were not shaped either on the Frisic or on the Danish model, but as he himself considered that they might be most serviceable. |
The most extensive original continuations are in the Peterborough Chronicle (E). From one of these I quote the character of the Conqueror, which accompanies the record of his death in 1086. The passage is remarkable as containing the nearest approach to a discovery of authorship that anywhere occurs in these Chronicles:—
These annals being all anonymous, every indication of the date of writing excites interest. Under 643 the chronicler of B added a single word to what he had before him (as we may presume) in his copy. That copy said that the church at Winchester was built by order of King Cenwalh. The chronicler of B says that the “old” church was built by Cenwalh. This harmonises excellently with other indications of this Chronicle, by which it is made probable that it was compiled in or about 977, when Bishop Æthelwold had built a new church at Winchester.
In the Peterborough Chronicle, under 1041, the accession of Eadward is accompanied by a benediction which indicates that the writer wrote near the time, or at least before 1065. He says:—Healde tha hwile the him God unne = May he continue so long as God may be pleased to grant to him! And the half legible closing sentence of this Chronicle, in 1154, is a prayer of the same kind for a new abbot of Peterborough, of whom it is said that “he hath made a fair beginning.”
The Saxon Chronicles offer one of the best examples of history which has grown proximately near to the events, of history written while the impression made by the events was still fresh. It would be difficult to point to any texts through which the taste for living history—history in immediate contact with the events—can better be cultivated.
The Chronicles stretch over a long period of time. As to their contents, they extend as a body of history from A.D. 449 to 1154—that is, exclusive of the book-made annals that form a long avenue at the beginning, and start from Julius Cæsar. The period covered by the age of the extant manuscripts is hardly less than 300 years, from about A.D. 900 to about A.D. 1200. A large number of hands must have wrought from time to time at their production, and, as the work is wholly anonymous and void of all external marks of authorship, the various and several contributions can only be determined by internal evidence, and this offers a fine arena for the exercise and culture of the critical faculty.
It is no small addition to the charm and value of these Chronicles that they are in the mother tongue at several stages of its growth, and for the most part in the best Anglo-Saxon diction. We have, moreover, the very soil of the history under our feet, and this study would tend to invest our native land with all the charm of classic ground.
The Chronicle form is the foundation of the structure of historical literature. We are no longer content to study history now in one or two admirable specimens of mature perfection, but rather we seek to know history as a subject. All who have this aim must study Chronicles, and nowhere can this kind of documentary record be found in a form preferable to that of the Saxon Chronicles.
The Saxon Chronicles are sometimes said to be meagre; indeed, it has almost become usual to speak of them as meagre. When such a term is used, it makes all the difference whether it is made vaguely and at random, or with meaning and discrimination. The Saxon Chronicles stretch over seven centuries, from the middle of the fifth to the middle of the twelfth; and it would indeed be wonderful if in such a series of annals there were not some arid tracts. Certainly, there are meagre places, and it makes all the difference whether a writer uses this epithet wisely or as a mere echo. In the following quotation it is justly used:—“For the history of England in the latter half of the tenth century we have, except the very meagre notices of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, no contemporary materials, unless we admit the Lives of the Saints of the Benedictine revival.”[105] In the latter half of the tenth century the Chronicles really are meagre, and it is a remarkable fact, seeing that the period was one of revived literary activity.
This account of the Chronicles would be incomplete without the mention of a small number of Latin histories which are naturally linked with them. The Latin book of most mark in this connexion is Asser’s “Life of Alfred”—a book that has long lain under a cloud of doubt, from which, however, it seems to be gradually emerging. (A foolish interpolation about Oxford which marred the second edition—that by Camden—has left a stigma on the name.) It is not easy to answer all the adverse criticism of Mr. T. Wright; but still I venture to think that the internal evidence corresponds to the author’s name, that it was written at the time of, and by such a person as, Alfred’s Welsh bishop. The evident acquaintance with people and with localities, the bits of Welsh, the calling of the English uniformly “Saxons,” all mark the Welshman who was at home in England. In the course of this biography, which seems to have been left in an unfinished state, there is a considerable extract from the Winchester Chronicles translated into Latin.
But the earliest Latin Chronicle which was founded on the Saxon Chronicles is that of Æthelweard. He is apparently the “ealdorman Æthelwerd,” to whom Ælfric addressed certain of his works; and he may be the “Æthelwerd Dux” who signs charters, 976-998. His Chronicle closes with the last year of Eadgar’s reign. He took much of his material from a Saxon Chronicle, like that of Winchester, but he has also matter peculiar to himself; and this raises a question whether he took such matter from a Saxon Chronicle now lost. He is grandiloquent and turgid to an extent which often obscures his meaning. In him we perceive all the word-eloquence of Saxon poetry, striving to utter itself through the medium of a Latinity at once crude and ambitious.[106]
The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester terminates with 1117; but a continuator carried it on to 1141, making use of the Peterborough Chronicle (E). The work of Florence is often identifiable with the Saxon Chronicles, especially with that of Worcester (D). But he has good original insertions of his own, as in his description of the election and coronation of Harold, on which Mr. Freeman has dwelt, as a record intended to correct Norman misrepresentation.
Simeon of Durham made large use of Florence, and he incorporated the Northumbrian eighth-century Chronicle, of which a specimen has been given above.
Henry of Huntingdon closed his annals at the same date as the latest of the Saxon Chronicles, A.D. 1154. He is a historian of secondary rank, with antiquarian tastes, a fondness for the Saxon Chronicles, and a special fancy for the genealogies and the ballads. To him we owe the earliest known mention of Stonehenge.
All these, except Asser and Æthelweard, are, as regards our Chronicles, subsequent and derivative rather than collateral. They used the chronicles as translators and compilers merely. The first who attempted something more was William of Malmesbury. This remarkable writer (who in 1140 came near to being elected Abbot of Malmesbury) was the first after Beda who left the annal form, and aimed at a more comprehensive treatment of the national history. He recognised the value of traditions from the Saxon times, which in his day were still to be gathered, and it is by the incorporation of such elements that his book has in some respects the character of a supplement to the Saxon Chronicles.
We cannot but be struck with the isolation of the Saxon Chronicles. Great literary products do not grow up alone; but they have, doubtless, a tendency to create a solitude around them. Professor Stubbs apprehends such may have been the case with these Chronicles. He has surmised that probably the Chronicles had the same effect upon the previous schemes of history that Higden’s “Polychronicon” had in the fourteenth century, that is to say, it would have prevented the writing of new histories, and caused the neglect or destruction of the old.[107]
[103] Lappenberg, “Geschichte,” Introduction, p. xlviii.; referring to Hickes’ “Thesaurus,” iii., 288; and the preface to Smith’s edition of Bede. That lover of English history, Dr. Reinhold Pauli, in the Göttingen “Gelehrt. Anzeig.” for 1866, p. 1407, suggested that the whole mediæval institution of annal-writing came from Northumbria, and was carried on the mission-path of the Saxons into Frankland and Germany, and there produced the fine Carlovingian series.
[104] The “æscas” were the light and speedy galleys of the Danes.
[105] Professor Stubbs, “Memorials of Saint Dunstan,” Rolls Series, p. ix.
[106] Reinhold Pauli, “Life of Alfred,” anno 877, note.
[107] Preface to “Chronica Rogeri de Hoveden,” Rolls Series, p. xi.
CHAPTER IX.
ALFRED’s TRANSLATIONS.
Around the great name of Alfred many attributes have gathered and clustered, some of which are true, some exaggerated, some impossible. It is quite unhistorical that Alfred divided the country into shires and hundreds, or that he instituted trial by jury, or that he founded the University of Oxford. Under the shadow of great names myths are apt to spring, that is to say, unconscious authorless inventions, growing up of themselves round any person or thing which happens to be the subject of much talk and little knowledge. Had the conditions been favourable in England as they were in France, the myths about Alfred might have grouped into an epic cycle, as those about Charlemagne did; and, had the eleventh century produced a great heroic poem analogous to the “Chanson de Roland,” it would have formed a graceful and much-needed coping to the now too disjointed pile of Anglo-Saxon literature.
But, when we come to Alfred’s literary achievements, we find no tendency to exaggerate or embellish the sober truth. His hand is manifest in the Laws, and strongly surmised in the Chronicles. In both these vernacular products we find a new start, a fresh impulse, under Alfred. But that which stamps a peculiar character on his Translations is that here we discern a new stride in the elevation of the native language to literary rank. Latin was no longer to be the sole medium of learning and education.
The learned language had almost perished out of the island where it had once so eminently flourished. In the north the seats of learning had been demolished; and the monasteries of Wessex, their first use as mission-stations having been discharged, had become secularised in their habits, and had not become seats or seminaries of learning. Alfred found no one in his ancestral kingdom who could aid him in the work of revival. Like Charles the Great, he looked everywhere for scholars, and drew them to his court. In Mercia, the land adjoining scholastic Anglia, he found a few learned men—Werferth, bishop of Worcester; Plegmund, who was elected (A.D. 890) archbishop of Canterbury, and two of obscurer name;[108] he drew Grimbald from Gaul, and John from Old Saxony; Asser, from whose pen we know about these scholars, came to him from South Wales. With the help of such men Alfred gave a new impulse to literature, not as Charles had done, in Latin merely, but as much, or even more, in his own vernacular.
We must not look upon his translations as if they were only makeshifts to convey the matter of famous books to those who could not read the originals. Alfred deplored the low state of Latin,—but then he could substitute his own language for it, and that not merely because he must, but also because the very scarcity of Latin had favoured the culture of English. For it was in no dull or stagnant time that Wessex had let Latin wane; it was in that vigorous stage of youth and growth when Wessex was fitting herself to take an imperial place at home and raise her head among the nations. In almost all the transactions of life, public and private, where Latin was used in other countries, the West Saxons had for a long time used their own tongue, and hence it came to pass that, when Alfred sought to restore education and literature, he found a language nearer to him than the Latin, and one which was fit, if not to supersede the Latin, yet to be coupled along with it in the work of national instruction.
Of all Alfred’s translations, the foremost place is due to that of Gregory’s “Pastoral Care.”[109] Both internally and externally it is honoured with marks of distinction. The translation is executed with a peculiar care, and a copy was to be sent to every See in the kingdom. The very copy that was destined for Worcester is preserved in the Bodleian; and there it may be seen by any passing visitor, lying open (under glass) at the page with the Worcester address, and the bishop’s name (Wærferth) inserted in the salutation. The copy that was addressed to Hehstan, bishop of London, is not extant; but a transcript of it, written (in Wanley’s opinion) before the Conquest, is in the Cotton Library, or so much of it as the fire has left. The Public Library at Cambridge has a representative of the copy which was addressed to Wulfsige, bishop of Sherborne. Another Cotton manuscript, which was almost consumed (Tiberius, B. xi.), had happily been described by Wanley before the fire. In this book the place for the bishop’s name was blank; and there was this marginal note on the first leaf: ✠ Plegmunde arcebisc’. is agifen his boc. and Swiðulfe bisc’. ⁊ Werferðe bisc’., i.e., Plegmund, archbishop, has received his book, and Swithulf, bishop, and Werferth, bishop.[110] This book, therefore, of which only fragments now remain, was like the Hatton manuscript in the Bodleian, one of Alfred’s originals.
Thus the Bodleian book (Hatton 20, formerly 88), for originality and integrity remains unique; and from it we quote the opening part of Alfred’s prefatory epistle:—
The king goes on to say that he remembered how, before the general devastation, the churches were well stocked with books, and how there were plenty, too, of clergy, but they were not able to make much use of the books, because the culture of learning had been neglected. Their predecessors of a former generation had been learned, but now the clergy had fallen into ignorance. Wherefore, it seemed that there was no remedy but to have the books translated into the language they understood. And this (the king reflected) was according to precedent; for the Old Testament was first written in Hebrew, and then the Greeks in their time translated it into their speech, and subsequently the Romans did the like for themselves. And all other Christian nations had translated some Scriptures into their own language.
Here we have a direct statement that the “Pastoral” was translated by King Alfred himself, after a course of study in which he had been assisted by Plegmund, Asser, Grimbald, and John. His interest in this book seems to show that his estimate of it was something like that of Ozanam, who said that Gregory’s “Pastoral Care” determined the character of the Christian hierarchy, and formed the bishops who formed the nations.
Gregory’s “Dialogues,” on the contrary, were translated, not by the king, but by Werferth, bishop of Worcester, as we are informed by Asser.[111] This translation is extant in manuscripts, but it has not yet been edited. It is, perhaps, the most considerable piece of Anglo-Saxon literature that yet remains to be made public. And it is striking, though not unaccountable, that a book which was one of the most popular ever written,[112] which retained its popularity for centuries, and which has left behind it in literature and in popular Christian ethics bold traces of its influence, should, in the modern revival of Anglo-Saxon, have been so long neglected. As this book is practically inaccessible, and as it was moreover a book peculiarly germane and congenial to the average intelligence of these times, it seems to claim a somewhat fuller notice.
Here, as in other translations, the king wrote a few words of preface.
| Ic Ælfred gyfendum Criste mid cynehades mærnesse geweorthad hæbbe cuthlice ongiten, and thurh haligra boca rædunge oft gehyred . thæt us tham God swa micele healicnysse woruld gethingtha forgifen hæfth . is seo mæste thearf thæt we hwilon ure mod gelithian and gebigian to tham godcundum and gastlicum rihte . betweoh thas eorthlican carfulnysse . and ic fortham sohte and wilnode to minum getrywum freondum thæt hy me of Godes bocum be haligra manna theawum and wundrum awriton thas æfterfyligendan lare . thæt ic thurh tha mynegunge and lufe getrymmed on minum mode hwilum gehicge tha heofenlican thing betweoh thas eorthlican gedrefednyssa . Cuthlice we magan nu æt ærestan gehyran hu se eadiga and se apostolica wer Scs Gregorius spræc to his diacone tham wæs nama Petrus . be haligra manna thæawum and life, to lare and to bysne eallum tham the Godes willan wyrceath . and he be him silfum thisum wordum and thus cwæth:— | I, Alfred, by the grace of Christ, dignified with the honour of royalty, have distinctly understood, and through the reading of holy books have often heard, that of us to whom God hath given so much eminence of worldly distinction, it is specially required that we from time to time should subdue and bend our minds to the divine and spiritual law, in the midst of this earthly anxiety; and I accordingly sought and requested of my trusty friends that they for me out of pious books about the conversation and miracles of holy men would transcribe the instruction that hereinafter followeth; that I, through the admonition and love being strengthened in my mind, may now and then contemplate the heavenly things in the midst of these earthly troubles. Plainly we can now at first hear how the blessed and apostolic man St. Gregory spake to his deacon whose name was Peter, about the manners and life of holy men for instruction and for example to all those who are working the will of God; and he spake about himself with these words and in this manner:— |
| Sumon[113] dæge hit gelamp thæt ic wæs swythe geswenced mid tham geruxlum and uneathnessum sumra woruldlicra ymbhegena . for tham underfenge thyses bisceoplican folgothes . On tham woruld scirum we beoth full oft geneadode thæt we doth tha thing the us is genoh cuth thæt we na ne sceoldon . Tha gelyste me thære diglan stowe the ic ær on wæs on mynstre . seo is thære gnornunge freond . fortham man simle mæg his sares and his unrihtes mæst gethencean gif he ana bith on digolnysse . Thær me openlice æt ywde hit sylf eall swa hwæt swa me mislicode be minre agenre wisan . and thær beforan minre heortan eagan swutollice comon ealle tha gedonan unriht the gewunedon thæt hi me sar and sorge ongebrohton. Witodlice tha tha ic thær sæt swithe geswenced and lange sorgende . tha com me to min se leofesta sunu Petrus diacon se fram frymthe his iugothhades mid freondlicre lufe wæs hiwcuthlice to me getheoded and getogen . and he simle wæs min gefera to smeaunge haligre lare . and he tha lociende on me geseah thæt ic wæs geswenced mid hefigum sare minre heortan . and he thus cwæth to me, “La leof gelamp the ænig thing niwes . for hwan hafast thu maran gnornunge thonne hit ær gewunelic wære?” Tha cwæth ic to him, “Eala Petrus seo gnornung the ic dæghwamlice tholie symle heo is me eald for gewunan . and simle heo is me niwe thurh eacan.” | On a certain day it happened that I was very much harassed with the contentions and worries of certain secular cares, in the discharge of this episcopal function. In secular offices we are very often compelled to do the things that we well enough know we ought not to do. Then my desire turned towards that retired place where I formerly was in the monastery. That is the friend of sorrow, because a man can always best think over his grief and his wrong, if he is alone in retirement. There everything plainly showed itself to me, whatever disquieted me about my own occupation; and there, before the eyes of my heart distinctly came all the practical wrongs which were wont to bring upon me grief and sorrow. Accordingly, while I was there sitting in great oppression and long silence, there came to me my beloved son Peter the deacon, who, from his early youth, with friendly love was intimately attached and bound to me; and he was ever my companion in the study of sacred lore. And he then looking on me saw that I was oppressed with the heavy grief of my heart, and he thus said to me, “Ah, sire, hath anything new happened to thee, by reason of which thou hast more grief than was formerly thy wont?” Then said I to him, “Alas, Peter, the grief which I daily endure it is to me always old for use and wont; and it is to me always new through the increase of it.” |
The edifying stories are sometimes as grotesque as the strangest carvings about a mediæval edifice:—
A nun,[114] walking in the convent garden, took a fancy to eat a leaf of lettuce, and she ate, without first making the sign of the cross over it. Presently she was found to be possessed. At the approach of the abbot, the fiend protested it was not his fault; that he had been innocently sitting on a lettuce, and she ate him.[115]
In the Dialogues we recognise that peculiar ideal of sanctity which we identify not so much with Christianity as with mediæval Christianity. The bright samples of Christian virtues are too like those types which have afforded material to caricature. For example, Æquitius, the good abbot, whose virtues adorn a series of narratives, practises in the following manner the virtue of humility:—
| Sothlice he wæs swithe waclic on his gewædum and swa forsewenlic thæt, theah hwilc man him ongean come the hine ne cuthon, and he thone mid wordum gegrette, he wæs forsewen thæt he næs ongean gegreted; and swa oft swa he to othrum stowum faran wolde, thonne wæs his theaw thæt he wolde sittan on tham horse the he on tham mynstre forcuthost findan mihte, on tham eac he breac hælftre for bridele, and wethera fella for sadele. | Moreover, he was very mean in his clothing, and so abject, that though any one met him (of those who knew him not), and he greeted him with words, he was so despised that he was not greeted in return; and as often as he would travel to other places, then was it his custom to sit on the horse that he could find the most despicable in the abbey, on which, moreover, he used a halter for a bridle, and sheepskins for saddle. |
Constantius was the name of a sacristan who completely despised all worldly goods, and his fame was spread abroad. On one occasion, when there was no oil for the lamps, he filled them with water, and they gave light just as if it had been oil. Visitors were attracted by the report of his sanctity. Once a countryman came from a distance (com feorran sum ceorl) to see a man of whom so much was said. When he came into the church, Constantius was on a ladder trimming the lamps. He was an under-grown, slight-built, shabby figure. The countryman inquired which was Constantius; and, being told, was so shocked and disappointed, that he spoke sneeringly, “I expected to see a fine man, and this is not a man at all!”
| Mid tham the se Godes wer Constantius tha this gehyrde, he sona swithe blithe forlet tha leoht fatu the he behwearf, and hrædlice nyther astah and thone ceorl beclypte and mid swithlicre lufe ongann mid his earmum hinc clyppan and cyssan and him swithe thancian, thæt he swa be him gedemde, and thus cwæth: “Thu ana hæfdest ontynde eagan on me and me mid rihte oncneowe.” | When Constantius the man of God heard this, he forthwith in great joy left the lamps he was attending to, and nimbly descended and embraced the countryman, and with exceeding love began to hold him in his arms, and kiss him, and heartily thank him, that he had so judged of him; and thus he quoth:—“Thou alone hadst opened eyes upon me, and thou didst rightly know me.” |
Our next and last example is a story of a well-known type, and perhaps the oldest extant instance of it:—
In the translation of the “Comfort of Philosophy,” the translator makes his greatest effort and exerts the utmost capabilities of his language. He is not bound by any verbal fidelity to his author; he rather adapts the book to his own use and mental exercitation. In the original the author is visited in affliction by Philosophy, and with this heavenly visitant a dialogue ensues, interspersed with choral odes. Alfred sinks the First Person of the author, and makes the dialogue run between Heavenly Wisdom and the Mind (thæt Môd).
The choral odes (generally called the Metres of Boethius) must have been very hard for Alfred to translate, and they are done somewhat vaguely. We have them in two translations, one in prose and the other in verse. There is no doubt that the poetical version was made from the prose version, without any fresh reference to the Latin. The two are often verbally identical, with a little change in the order of words, and some necessary additions to satisfy the alliteration, or fill out the poetic rhythm. It was long ago observed by Hickes that the style of these poems differed little from prose; but it was Mr. Thomas Wright who first noticed that they were, in fact, merely a versified arrangement of the prose translation.
The same critic gave reasons for thinking that the versified metres were by some later hand, and not by King Alfred. This has been recently the subject of a very interesting discussion in the German periodical “Anglia,” it being maintained by Dr. M. Hartmann that they are by Alfred, and the opposite view (that of Mr. T. Wright) being advocated by Dr. A. Leicht.
When the Boethian metres make their appearance in Anglo-Saxon poetic dress, they are considerably expanded. The original prose translation is itself expansive, because the poetry of Boethius is exceedingly terse, and cannot be rendered into readable prose without enlargement. The work of the Saxon versifier is attended with further expansion, because of the mechanical exigencies of the poetic form.
The twentieth metre (iii. 9) offers an extreme case of this kind. Here the original consists of twenty-six hexameters, and the Anglo-Saxon poem has 281 long lines. In this case, however, the poetic expansion is not wholly mechanical; the poet has made some real additions to the thought. The chief of these is a new simile, in which the poising of the Earth in space is illustrated by the yolk of an egg. The prose translation runs thus:—
| Thu gestatholadest eorthan swithe wundorlice and fæstlice thæt he ne helt on nane healfe . ne on nanum eorthlic thinge ne stent ne nanwuht eorthlices hi ne healt . thæt hio ne sige . and nis hire thonne ethre to feallanne of dune thonne up. | Thou hast established the earth very wondrously and firmly that it does not heel[116] over on any side: and yet it stands not on any earthly thing, nor does anything earthly hold it up that it sink not; and yet it is no easier for it to fall down than up. |
The poetic version enlarges as follows:—
The translation of Orosius embodies a considerable piece of original matter. Orosius had given, in the opening of his work, a geographical sketch of Europe and Asia. In the translation a large addition is made to the geography of Europe, and it was an addition not merely to this book, but (so far as appears) to the stock of existing geographical knowledge. This insertion consists of three parts, 1. A map-like description of Central Europe; 2. Narrative of Ohthere, who had voyaged round the North Cape; 3. Voyage of Wulfstan from Denmark along the southern and eastern coasts of the Baltic. Ohthere’s Narrative is connected with King Alfred by name:—“Ohthere sæde his hlaforde Ælfrede kynincge thæt he ealra Northmanna northmest bude,” i.e., Ohthere said to his lord, King Alfred, that he of all Northmen had the most northerly home.
The translation of Beda skips lightly over much of the twenty-two preliminary chapters, giving good measure, however, to the description of Britain and to the martyrdom of St. Alban. All about Gregory and Augustine is full. So also about Eadwine, Oswald, Aidan, Oswy, and St. Chad. (But all that famous section (iii. 25, 26) which describes the crisis between the churches, the synod of Whitby, and the Scotian departure, is omitted altogether). Full measure is given to Theodore, the synod of Hertford, Wilfrid, Queen Ætheldrith, Hilda, and Cædmon. So also Cuthbert and John of Hexham. Fully rendered are the failure of the Irish and the success of the Anglian missions to Germany; also the visions which we may call Dantesque. (The whole section about Adamnan’s influence and writings (v. 15, 16, 17) is omitted.) But about Aldhelm and his writings; also Daniel, bishop of Winchester; the end of Wilfrid; and about Albinus, the successor of Adrian, is fully rendered.
The Anglo-Saxon Gospels must be mentioned here. This is a book about which we have no external information, and the manuscripts are comparatively late. But the diction leads us to place it in or about the times of Alfred.
It is probable that the “Beowulf” is the product of the same reign; while the volume of sacred poetry that is designated by the name of “Cædmon” appears (at least the first part of it) to be either of this time or possibly older.
If with the above we embrace in our view the Laws of this reign and the evidence of contemporary work in the Chronicles, we must be struck with the extent of this great muster of native literature. But we shall hardly do it justice unless we remember that this is the first national display of the kind in the progress of modern Europe. Native poetry had been cultivated in the Anglian period, and there had been a vernacular apparatus to assist the study of Latin, but of a varied and comprehensive literature in English or any other European vernacular, we find no trace until now. We must not look upon Alfred’s translations as mere helps to the Latin. What with the freedom and independence of treatment, and what with the original additions, they have a large claim to the character of domestic products. The very scheme itself, that of using translation as a medium of culture, which is now so familiar to us, was then quite a novel idea. In his preface to the “Pastoral,” the king casts about for precedents, and he finds none but the translations of Scripture into Greek and into Latin, and these do not, in fact, make a true parallel. But he could hardly have used this argument without a conscious pride that he had in his mother tongue an instrument not unpractised, and not altogether unworthy to be the first of barbarian languages to tread in the footsteps of the Greek and Latin.
This, then (I comprise the matter of three previous chapters and of three that are to follow) is the “Anglo-Saxon”[117] literature, properly so called; for that expression, if used with technical exactness, affords a term of distinction for the later literature of the south as against the earlier literature of the north, which has been called the Anglian period.
[108] Asser’s “Life of Alfred,” in “Monumenta Historica Britannica,” 487a.
[109] It was published for the first time in 1871, being edited by Mr. Sweet for the Early English Text Society.
[110] Wanley’s “Catalogue,” p. 217.
[111] “Monumenta Historica Britannica,” 486 E.
[112] “The ‘dialogues’ were printed as early as the year 1458.”—T. D. Hardy in Willelmi Malm. “Gesta Regum,” i., 189.
[113] Here Gregory begins. The translation sometimes deviates from the text:—“Quadam die nimis quorundam sæcularium tumultibus depressus, quibus in suis negotiis plerumque cogimur solvere etiam quod nos certum est non debere, secretum locum petii amicum mæroris, ubi omne quod de mea mihi occupatione displicebat, se patenter ostenderet, et cuncta quæ infligere dolorem consueverant, congesta ante oculos licenter venirent. Ibi itaque cum afflictus valde et diu tacitus sederem, dilectissimus filius meus Petrus diaconus adfuit, mihi a primævo juventutis flore amicitiis familiariter obstrictus, atque ad sacri verbi indagationem socius. Qui gravi excoqui cordis languore me intuens, ait: Num quidnam tibi aliquid accidit, quod plus te solito mæror tenet? Cui inquam: Mæror, Petre, quem quotidie patior, et semper mihi per usum vetus est, et semper per augmentum novus.”
[114] An nunne. This word is of two syllables; there is no silent e final in Anglo-Saxon.
[115] Ic sæt me on anum leahtrice, tha com heo and bát me!
[116] See Skeat, “Etym. Dict.,” v. “heel” (2).
[117] This term appears in charters of the tenth century; also Asser styles the king “Ælfred Angulsaxonum rex,” “Mon. Hist. Brit.,” 483 C. See Freeman, “Norman Conquest,” vol. i., Appendix A.
CHAPTER X.
ÆLFRIC.
Alfred died in 901. From this to the Norman Conquest there are 165 years, and the middle of this period is characterised by the works of the greatest of Anglo-Saxon prose-writers.
The productions of Alfred and the scholars that surrounded him, are to be understood as extraordinary efforts, and as beacons to raise men’s minds rather than as specimens of the state of learning in the country, or even as monuments of attainments that were likely soon to become general. Although the literary movement under Alfred was so far sustained that it did not subsequently die out, yet it would perhaps be too much to say that he achieved a complete revival of learning. In the inert state of the religious houses, the soil was unprepared. Still, a taste was kindled which continued to propagate itself until the time when the religious houses became active seats of education. This did not happen until the second half of the tenth century, when the reform of the monasteries by Æthelwold and Dunstan produced that great educational and literary movement of which the representative name is Ælfric.
The impetus which Alfred had imparted did not cease with his life. If we look into the Chronicles, we see that the Alfredian style of work is continued down to the death of his son Edward, in 924, and that from that point the stream of history dwindles and becomes meagre. This may be typical of what happened over a wider surface. The impulse given to translation may be supposed to have continued, and we may specify two translations likely to have been made at this time. These are the Four Gospels[118] and the poetical Psalter.[119]
A feature of the Gospels is that the name of Jesus is regarded as a descriptive title, and subjected to translation. It never appears in its original form, but always as “Se Hælend”—that is, The Healer, The Saviour.
To this period, the first half of the tenth century, must be assigned some translations of another sort. There are some considerable remains of a translating period that gave to the English reader a mass of apocryphal, romantic, fantastic, and even heretical reading; and that period can hardly be any other than this. I imagine that now as a consequence of the new literary interest awakened by King Alfred, many old book-chests were explored, and things came to light which had been stored in the monasteries of Wessex ever since the seventh and eighth centuries. These writings claim a manifest affinity with the early products of the Gaulish monasteries, and from these they would naturally have been diffused in southern Britain. But, since the religious life of Gaul had been touched and quickened with the reform of the second Benedict in the ninth century, some old things would have been condemned and rejected there, which might still enjoy credit with the old-fashioned clergy of Wessex.
Of apocryphal materials in Anglo-Saxon literature there are several varieties. First, there is the so-called Gospel of Nicodemus. This is from a Latin version of the Greek “Acts of Pilate,” and it is our earliest extant source for that prolific subject, the Harrowing of Hell. The Greek text laid claim to a Hebrew original:—
| —her onginnath tha gedonan thing the be urum Hælende gedone wæron . eall swa Theodosius se mæra casere hyt funde on Hierusalem on thæs Pontiscan Pilates domerne . eall swa hyt Nychodemus awrat . eall mid Ebreiscum stafum on manegum bocum thus awriten: | —here begin the actual things that were done in connexion with our Saviour, just as Theodosius the illustrious emperor found it in Jerusalem in Pontius Pilate’s court-house; according as Nicodemus wrote it down all with Hebrew writing on many leaves as follows. |
The “Dialogues of Solomon and Saturn” belong to a legendary stock that has sent its branches into all the early vernacular literatures of Europe. The germ is found in the Bible and in Josephus. In 1 Kings x. 1, we read that, when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, she came to prove him with hard questions. Josephus, in the “Jewish Antiquities,” vii. 5, tells a curious story about hard questions passing between Solomon and Hiram, king of Tyre. From such a root appear to have grown the multiform legends in various languages which passed under such names as the “Controversy of Solomon,” the “Dialogues of Solomon and Saturn,” or of “Solomon and Marculfus.” This became at length a mocking form of literature; often a burlesque and parody of religion. Mr. Kemble traces these legends to Jewish tradition; but of all the examples preserved he says “the Anglo-Saxon are undoubtedly the oldest.... With the sole exception of one French version, they are the only forms of the story remaining in which the subject is seriously and earnestly treated; and, monstrous as the absurdities found in them are, we may be well assured that the authors were quite unconscious of their existence.”[120] There are, however, some places in which one is moved to doubt whether the extravagance is the product of pure simplicity, and without the least tinge of drollery.
But the reader may judge for himself. The fragments preserved are partly poetical and partly in prose: the poetry is rather insipid; our quotation shall be from the prose. The subject is the praise and eulogy of the Lord’s Prayer, which is personified and anatomised. Saturnus asks, “What manner of head hath the Pater Noster?” And, again, “What manner of heart hath the Pater Noster?” We quote from the answer to the latter question:—
I do not undertake to assert that this piece is as old as the first half of the tenth century; it is placed here only because this seems to be the most natural place for the group of literature to which it belongs. As I said, the reader must judge for himself whether this is perfectly serious. I believe that these “Dialogues” are the only part of Anglo-Saxon literature that can be suspected of mockery. The earliest laughter of English literature is ridicule; and if this ridicule seems to touch things sacred, it will, on the whole, I think, be found that not the sacred things themselves, but some unreal or spurious use of them, is really attacked. So here, if there is any appearance of a sly derision, the thing derided is not the Pater Noster, but the vain and magical uses which were too often ascribed to the repetition of it.
Here we must find a place for the translation of “Apollonius of Tyre.” This has all the features of a Greek romance, but it is only known to exist in a Latin text, so that it has been questioned whether this Latin romance is a translation from a Greek original, or a story originally Latin in imitation of the Greek romancists. With those who have investigated the subject, the hypothesis of translation is most in favour, and for the following reason. The story presents an appearance of double stratification, such as might naturally result if a heathen Greek romance had been translated into Latin by a Christian. Although the phenomenon could be equally explained by supposing a Latin heathen original which had been re-written by a Christian editor, yet the former is the more natural and the more probable hypothesis.[121]
We now come to the Blickling Homilies, a recently-published book of great importance. It is not a homogeneous work, but a motley collection of sermons of various age and quality. Some of the later sermons are not so very different from those of Ælfric; but these are not the ones that give the book its character. The older sort have very distinct characteristics of their own, and they furnish a deep background to the Homilies of Ælfric. They are plainly of the age before the great Church reform of the tenth century, when the line was very dimly drawn between canonical and uncanonical, and when quotations, legends, and arguments were admissible which now surprise us in a sermon. Indeed, one can hardly escape the surmise that the elder discourses may come down from some time, and perhaps rather an early time, in the ninth century. One of the sermons bears the date of 971 imbedded in its context; and this, which is probably the lowest date of the book, is twenty years before the Homilies of Ælfric appeared. Speaking of that frequent topic of the time, the end of the world, which is to take place in the Sixth Age, the preacher says:—
| —and thisse is thonne se mæsta dæl agangen, efne nigon hund wintra and lxxi. on thys geare.—P. 119. | —and of this is verily the most part already gone, even nine hundred years and seventy-one, in this year. |
Perhaps there is no book which has been published in the present generation that has done so much for the historical knowledge of Anglo-Saxon literature. Speaking generally, we may say that it represents the preaching of the times before Ælfric; that it contains the sort of preaching that Ælfric sat under in his youth (when not at Abingdon or Winchester); the sort of preaching, too, that Ælfric set himself to correct and to supersede. It is a book whose value turns not so much upon its own direct communications, as on the light it throws all around it, showing up the popular standards of the time, and enabling us to recognise the true setting of many a waif and stray of the old literature. But it is upon the work of Ælfric that it sheds the most valuable light. There is in Ælfric’s Homilies a certain corrective aim, which was but faintly seen before, and when seen could not be distinctly explained; but now we have both the aim and the occasion of it rendered comparatively clear.
These Homilies supply to those of Ælfric their true historical introduction. They support the reasons which Ælfric assigns for producing homilies. In his preface he speaks of certain English books to which he designs his sermons as an antidote. He had translated his discourses (he says) out of the Latin, not for pride of learning, “but because I had seen much heresy (gedwild) in many English books, which unlearned men in their simplicity thought mighty wise.” Not only do the Blickling Homilies contain enough of unscriptural and apocryphal material to justify the charge of “gedwild” in its vaguer sense of error, but we have also documentary grounds for believing that a careful theologian of that time, such as Ælfric undoubtedly was, would have brought them under the indictment of heresy.
It used to be thought that the oldest extant list of condemned books proceeded from Pope Gelasius, and was of about A.D. 494; but now that list is assigned to the eighth or even ninth century. In this Index we find sources for much of the literature which we have been considering in this chapter; we find the “Acts of Pilate,” “Journeys of the Apostles,” “Acts of Peter,” “Acts of Andrew the Apostle,” “The Contradiction of Solomon,” “The Book Physiologus.”[122] The material which gives the Blickling collection its peculiar character is largely apocryphal, and, in the light of the above list, heretical.
A new vitality is imparted to Ælfric’s sermons by their contrast with these older ones. It is plain that there is a common source behind both sets of sermons; the well-established series of topics for each occasion seems clearly to point to some standard collection of Latin homilies now lost.[123] The evident identity of the lines on which the discourses run makes comparison the easier and the more satisfactory. In the sermon for Ascension Day, Ælfric’s treatment is in pointed contrast with the older book. The Blickling is full of the signs and wonders; some, indeed, Scriptural, but far more apocryphal; and it is effusive over these. Whereas Ælfric teaches that the visible miracles belonged to the infancy of the Church, and were as artificial watering to a newly-planted tree; but, when the heathen believed, then those miracles ceased. Now (he says) we must look rather for spiritual miracles. The Homily on St. John Baptist is a good example. According to the old book, John is called “angelus,” because he lived on earth the angelic life, but Ælfric takes it as messenger, and this may hint the difference of treatment. In the same discourse there is a contrast which touches the chronology. The old Homily says that there are only two Nativities kept sacred by the Church—that of the Lord and that of His forerunner. Ælfric takes up this topic with a difference. He says that there are three Nativities, which are celebrated annually, adding that of the Blessed Virgin to the previous two. Now, it was precisely in the tenth century that this third began to be observed in the churches of the West;[124] and the change took place in the interval that separates these two sets of homilies.
On the Assumptio St. Mariæ, the elder homily is a jumble of apocryphal legend. Here Ælfric presents a contrast, and manifestly an intentional one. In the preamble he recalls certain teaching of Jerome, “through which he quashed the misguided narrative which half-taught men had told about her departure.” Then, after an exposition of the Gospel for the day, he returns to the Assumption in a passage which, when read in the light of the elder Homily, is very pointed:—“What shall we say to you more particularly about this festival, except that Mary was on this day taken up to heaven from this weary world, to dwell with Him, where she rejoices in eternal life for evermore? If we should say more to you about this day’s festival than we read in those holy books which were given by God’s inspiration, we should be like those mountebanks who, from their own imaginations or from dreams, have written many false stories; but the faithful teachers, Augustine, Jerome, Gregory, and other such, have in their wisdom rejected them. But still these absurd books exist, both in Latin and in English, and misguided men read them. It is enough for believers to read and to relate that which is true; and there are very few men who can completely study all the holy books that were indited by God’s Holy Spirit. Let alone those absurd fictions, which lead the unwary to perdition, and read or listen to Holy Scripture, which directs us to heaven.”
The Homilies of Ælfric are in two series, of which the first was published in 990, and addressed to Sigeric, Archbishop of Canterbury; the second in 991, after that Danish invasion in which Byrhtnoth fell. These were long ago published by the Ælfric Society. But there is another set, appropriated to the commemoration of saints, after the manner of the Benedictine hagiographies.[125] These have a Latin preface, pointedly agreeing with the prefaces to the previous series. If their miraculous narratives sometimes contain what we should not have expected from Ælfric, and if this leads us to doubt the authorship, we may reflect that the contrast is not so great as that between the “Cura Pastoralis” and the “Dialogues” of Gregory.
As a slight specimen of the character of these latter discourses, I will give a few lines from that on St. Swithun:—
Ælfric’s place in literature consists in this:—That he is the voice of that great Church reform which is the most signal fact in the history of the latter half of the tenth century. Of this reform, the first step was the restoration of the rule of Benedict in the religious houses. The great movement had begun in Gaul early in the ninth century, and its extension to our island could hardly be delayed when peaceful times left room for attention to learning and religion. Both in Frankland and in England the religious revival followed the literary one; only there it followed quickly, and here after a long interval.[126]
The chief author of this revival was Odo (died 961), and the chief conductors of it were Æthelwold, Dunstan, Oswald. The leaders of this movement were much in communication with the Frankish monasteries, especially with the famous house at Fleury on the Loire. Various kinds of literature were cherished, but that which is most peculiar to this time is the biographies of Saints. Lanferth, a disciple of Æthelwold, wrote Latin hagiographies, and from his Latin was derived the extant homily of the miracles of St. Swithun. Wulstan, a monk of Winchester and a disciple of Æthelwold, was a Latin poet, and wrote hagiography in verse; among the rest, he versified the work of Lanferth on St. Swithun.
Ælfric was an alumnus of Æthelwold at Winchester, and perhaps at Abingdon earlier; from Winchester he was sent to Cernel (Cerne Abbas in Dorsetshire), to be the pastor of Æthelweard’s house and people, and there he wrought at his homilies. The highest title that we find associated with his name is that of abbot; and this probably is in relation to Egonesham (Eynsham, Oxon), where Æthelweard founded a religious house, and Ælfric superintended it. In Æthelweard the ealdorman we have our first example of a great lay patron of literature: much of Ælfric’s work was undertaken at the instance of Æthelweard.
It was at his request that he engaged in the translation of the Old Testament, and when he had done the Pentateuch (with frequent omissions), and some parts of Joshua and Judges,[127] he ceased, and declared he would translate no more, having a misgiving lest the narration of many things unlike Christian morality might confuse the judgment of the simple. This is the earliest recorded instance of a devout Christian withholding Scripture from the people for their good. And, when we take it in conjunction with the authorised diffusion of the Benedictine hagiographies of the time, we see what was approved placed by the side of that which was mistrusted.
The so-called “Canons of Ælfric” are a mixed composition, in which some matters of historical and doctrinal instruction are united with directions and regulations and exhortations for correcting the practices of the ignorant priests. They were compiled by Ælfric, at the request of Wulfsige, Bishop of Sherborne (A.D. 992-1001), for the benefit of his clergy. The reformation of the monasteries had already made considerable progress, and this seems like an extension of the same movement to embrace the secular clergy. Among the divers matters touched in the Articles are these:—The relative authority of the councils; the first four are to be had in reverence like the four gospels (Tha feower sinothas sind to healdenne swa swa tha feower Cristes bec)—the vestments, the books, and the garb of the priest; the seven orders of the Christian ministry; some points of priestly duty as regards marriages and funerals; of Baptism and the Eucharist, with rebuke of superstitious practices; the priest to speak the sense of the Gospel to the people in English on Sundays and high days, as also of the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed; but, withal, the immediate practical aim of the whole seems, above all things, to be the celibacy of the clergy.[128]
Ælfric was the author of the most important educational books of this time that have come down to us—namely, his “Latin Grammar,” in English, formed after Donatus and Priscian; his “Glossary of Latin Words”; and his “Colloquium,” or conversation in Latin, with interlinear Saxon.[129]
But for us, as for the men of the sixteenth century, the most important of Ælfric’s works are his Homilies. The English of these Homilies is splendid; indeed, we may confidently say that here English appears fully qualified to be the medium of the highest learning. And their interest has been greatly enhanced of late years by two important additions to our printed Anglo-Saxon library. The first of these was the “Blickling Homilies,” edited by Dr. Morris, which threw a new light upon Ælfric, and added greatly to the significance of his Homilies.
The circuit of Anglo-Saxon homiletic literature has again been greatly enlarged by a more recent publication, namely, that of the “Homilies of Wulfstan.”[130] These homilies are quite distinct in character from all the preceding. There is nothing of controversy, and little in the shape of argument: simply the assertion of Christian dogma and the enforcement of Christian duty. The one topic that lies beyond these was more practical, in the view of that day, than it is in our view—I mean the repeated introduction of Antichrist and the near approach of the end of the world. In the quotation the þ and ð (for th) are kept, as in Mr. Napier’s text.
Hitherto Wulfstan has been represented in print by one sermon only, the most remarkable, indeed, of all his discourses—being an address to the English when the Danish ravages were at their worst, A.D. 1012, the year in which Ælfheah, Archbishop of Canterbury, was martyred. In this discourse the miseries of the time are ascribed to the vengeance of God for national sins; and the coming of Antichrist is said to be near. Wulfstan was Archbishop of York from 1003 to 1023. Beautiful and valuable as his sermons are in themselves, their value is greatly increased by their connexion with the preceding series, and by the continuity they give to this branch of our old literature. With the “Blickling Homilies,” in all their variety, and those of Ælfric, and those of Wulfstan, in our possession, it is hardly too much to say that we have a vernacular series of sermons that fairly represents the Anglo-Saxon preaching for a period of one hundred and fifty years.
[118] The Anglo-Saxon Version of the Holy Gospels, ed. Thorpe, 1842.
[119] Edited by Thorpe from the eleventh-century manuscript at Paris; Oxford, 1835. This contains Psalms li.-cl. in poetry; the first fifty are in prose. Dietrich (in Haupt’s “Zeitschrift”) pointed out that the prose was eleventh-century work, but the poetical version was much older. He surmised that the prose translation had been made for the purpose of giving completeness to a mutilated book, and that the whole Psalter had once existed in Anglo-Saxon verse. Since then some fragments of the missing psalms have been found. See Grein, “Bibliothek der Angelsächs. Poesie,” vol. ii., p. 412.
[120] “The Dialogue of Solomon and Saturnus, with an Historical Introduction.” By John M. Kemble, M.A. Ælfric Society, 1848, p. 2. See Dean Stanley, “Jewish Church,” ii. 170.
[121] Rohde, “Der Griechische Roman,” p. 408.
[122] The list may be seen in the “Dictionary of Christian Antiquities” v. Prohibited Books.
[123] The series that goes by the name of Eusebius of Emesa has much general similarity to the required collection.
[124] “Dictionary of Christian Antiquities,” vol. ii., p. 1143.
[125] This third set of Homilies is now for the first time in course of publication by the Early English Text Society, under the editorship of Professor Skeat.
[126] In like manner the literary revival of the fifteenth century was followed by the religious revival of the sixteenth.
[127] “Heptateuchus,” ed. Thwaites, 1698: reprinted by Grein.
[128] “A Collection of all the Ecclesiastical Laws, Canons, &c., &c., of the Church of England, from its First Foundation to the Conquest, that have hitherto been published in the Latin and Saxonic Tongues. And of all the Canons and Constitutions Ecclesiastical, made Since the Conquest and Before the Reformation ... now first translated into English ... by John Johnson, M.A., London, 1720.” A New Edition, by John Baron, of Queen’s College (now Dr. Baron, Rector of Upton Scudamore), Oxford, John Henry Parker, 1850. In two volumes, 8vo. Vol. i., p. 388.
[129] See above, p. [40]. The “Colloquium” is printed in Thorpe’s “Analecta.”
[130] Wulfstan, “Sammlung der ihm zugeschriebenen Homilien nebst Untersuchungen über ihre Echtheit: Herausgegeben von Arthur Napier. Erste Abtheilung: Text und Varianten. Berlin 1883.”
CHAPTER XI.
THE SECONDARY POETRY.
How still the legendary lay
O’er poet’s bosom holds its sway.
Marmion.
Between the Primary and the Secondary Poetry we must acknowledge a wide borderland of transition. Some poetical works lying in this interval we have already found occasion to notice, and have given them such space as we could afford. We have spoken of the Cædmon, and of the poetical Psalter; and with these I must group the “Judith,” a noble fragment, which is found in the Cotton Library in the same manuscript volume with the Beowulf. This fragment preserves 350 long lines at the close of a poem which appears—by the numbering of the Cantos—to have been of about four times that length. This remnant contains what would naturally have been the most vigorous and stirring parts of the poem: the riotous drinking of Holofernes, the trenchant act of Judith, her return with her maid to Bethulia, their enthusiastic reception, the muster for battle, the anticipation of carnage by the birds and beasts of prey, the destruction of the invading host.
The poetry which is distinctly Secondary is contained—the best specimens of it—in two famous books, that of Exeter, and that of Vercelli; and in both of these books it is largely connected with the name of a single poet, Cynewulf. Here is at once an indication of the secondary poetry; not merely that we have a poet’s name, for we also entitle poems by Cædmon’s name; but that the poet himself supplies us with his name, and has left it—vailed and enigmatic—for posterity to decipher.
Curiously and fancifully did Cynewulf interweave into the lines of his verse the Runes which spelt his name; and it needed the skill of Kemble to explain it to us. There are three of the extant poems in which he has thus left his mark, namely two in the Exeter book and one in the Vercelli book. In two cases out of the three this ingenious contrivance is at the close of the poem. In the Vercelli book it occurs in the Elene, the last of the poems in the manuscript, and Mr. Kemble remarked that it was “apparently intended as a tail-piece to the whole book.”[131] This naturally suggests the inference, which indeed is generally accepted, that all the poems in the Vercelli book are by Cynewulf.
But when a like inference is drawn for the Exeter book, inasmuch as the same Runic device is there found in two pieces, that therefore the book is simply a volume of Cynewulf’s poems, there seems less reason to acquiesce. That a large part of the book is Cynewulf’s poetry will be generally thought probable. The first thirty-two leaves of the manuscript, which correspond to the first 103 pages in Thorpe’s edition, contain a series of pieces which are really parts of one whole, as was shown by Professor Dietrich, of Marburg;[132] and, as one of these connected pieces has Cynewulf’s Runic mark, it seems to follow that the whole “Christian Epic” is by him. Again in the middle of the volume from the 65th to the 75th leaf there is the poem of St. Juliana with the Runes of Cynewulf’s name at its close, and this is therefore undoubtedly his. This brings us to Mr. Thorpe’s 286th page. The four pieces which lie between the above, more especially two of them, St. Guthlac and the Phœnix, may well be his. But from the close of St. Juliana (Thorpe, p. 286) the pieces become shorter and more miscellaneous, exhibiting greater diversity both of subject and of quality, being altogether such as to suggest that they have been collected from various sources and are of different ages. So that on this view the volume might be interpreted as containing (1) Poems by Cynewulf; and (2) a miscellaneous collection. Thus Cynewulf’s part would close with “St. Juliana,” which ends with the Runic device, like the Elene closing his poems in the Vercelli book.[133] About the person of this poet nothing is known, beyond what the poems themselves may seem to convey. His date has been variously estimated from the 8th to the 11th century. The latter is the more probable. If we look at his matter, we observe its great affinity with the hagiology of the tenth century, the high pitch at which the poetry of the Holy Rood has arrived, and the expansion given to the subject of the Day of Judgment. If we consider his language and manner, we remark the facility and copious flow of his poetic diction, but with a something that suggests the retentive mind of the student; his cumulation of old heroic phraseology not unlike the romantic poetry of Scott, joined occasionally with a departure from old poetic usage which seems like a slip on the part of an accomplished imitator.[134] Occasionally he has a Latin word of novel introduction.
All these signs forbid an early date, but they agree well with Kemble’s view of the time and person of Cynewulf. He proposed to identify our poet with that Kenulphus who in 982 became abbot of Peterborough, and in 1006 became (after Ælfheah) bishop of Winchester. To this prelate Ælfric dedicated his Life of St. Æthelwold, and he is praised by Hugo Candidus as a great emender of books, a famous teacher, to whom (as to another Solomon) men of all ranks and orders flocked for instruction, and whom the abbey regretted to lose when after fourteen years of his presidency he was carried off to the see of Winchester by violence rather than by election.[135]
The Canto in the “Christian Epic” in which the Cynewulf-Runes appear, is on the near approach of Domesday. This piece closes with a prolonged and detailed Simile, such as occurs only in the later poetry. Life is a perilous voyage, but there is a heavenly port and a heavenly pilot:—
The grandest of the allegorical pieces is that on the Phœnix. Of the pedigree of the fable we have already spoken; as also of the Latin poem which the Anglo-Saxon poet followed. It is rather an adaptation than a translation, and it has a second part in which the allegory is explained. At the close there is a playful alternation of Latin and Saxon half-lines, which does not at all lessen the probability that the poet may have been the ingenious Cynewulf.
Of the other allegorical pieces the Whale was derived from the book Physiologus, and probably the Panther also. The whale is used as a similitude of delusive security. The story reappears in the Arabian Nights, where it is the chief incident in the first voyage of Sindbad. The monster lies on the sea like an island, and deludes the unsuspecting mariner.
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Is þæs hiw gelic hreofum stane, swylce worie bi wædes ofre sond beorgum ymbseald sæ ryrica mæst,[136] swa þæt wenaþ wæg liþende, þæt hy on ealond sum eagum wliten; and þonne gehydaþ heah stefn scipu to þam únlonde oncyr rapum; setlað sæ mearas sundes æt ende.[137] |
In look it is like to a stony land, with the eddying whirl of the waves on the bank, with sandheaps surrounded a mighty sea-reef; so they wearily ween who ride on the wave, that some island it is they see with their eyes; and so they do fasten the high figure-heads to a land that no land is with anchor belayed; sea-horses they settle no farther to sail. |
When they have lighted their fires, and are getting comfortable, then all goes down. This is an apologue of misplaced confidence in things earthly.
But the great and absorbing subject of poetry in this age is Hagiography. We still see the old discredited apocryphal literature in occasional use, but it retires before the more approved medium of popular edification, the Lives and Miracles of the Saints. These offer material very apt for poetical treatment. Even the Homilies, when on the lives of Saints, are often clothed in the poetic garb.
In the Exeter book there are two of this class of poems; St. Guthlac and St. Juliana. In St. Juliana, a characteristic passage is that in which the tempter visits her in the guise of an angel of light, advising her to yield and to sacrifice to the gods. At her prayer, the fiend is reduced to his own shape, reminding us of a famous passage in Milton. St. Guthlac is distressed by fiends, and among the trials to which he is exposed, one is this, that he sees in vision the evil life of a disorderly monastery. When he has endured his trials, and he returns to his chosen retreat, the welcome of the birds is very charming.
But the greatest pieces of this sort are the two in the Vercelli book; the Andreas and the Elene.
In the Andreas we have an ancient legend which is now known only in Greek, but which no doubt lay before the Anglo-Saxon poet in a Latin version. In this story Matthew is imprisoned in Mirmedonia, and he is encouraged by the hope that Andrew shall come to his aid. Andrew is wonderfully conveyed to Mirmedonia, where he arrives at a time of famine, and he finds the people casting lots who shall be slain for the others’ food. On the intervention of Andrew the devil comes on the scene and suggests that he is the cause of their troubles. Then follows a long series of tortures to which the saint is subjected. When his endurance has been put to extreme proof, the word of deliverance comes to him and he puts forth miraculous power. He calls for a flood, and it comes and sweeps the cruel persecutors away. But the whole ends in a general conversion, and the drowned are restored to life. He is escorted to his ship and has a happy voyage back to Achaia like the return of any hero crowned with success. Here we are reminded of the return of Beowulf; and widely different as the two poems are, they have not only points of similarity but also a certain likeness of type. There is, however, this great dissimilarity, that in the Andreas the poet stops to speak of himself and of his inadequate performance, but still he will give us a little more. The most novel and extraordinary part is the voyage of Andrew to Mirmedonia. The ship-master is a Divine person, and the instructive conversation which the saint addresses to him, is exceedingly well managed, for while it verges on the humorous, it is perfectly reverent; a strong contrast with the free use of such situations in the later mediæval drama. Another feature which calls for notice is the sarcasm with which the drowning people are told there is plenty of drink for them now.
The “Elene” opens with the outbreak of barbarian war, and Constantine in camp on the Danube, frightened at the multitude of the Huns. In a dream of the night he sees an angel who shows him the Cross, and tells him that with this “beacon” he shall overcome the foe. II. Comforted by his dream, he had a cross made like that of the vision, and under this ensign he was victorious. Then he assembles his wise men to inquire of them who the god was that this sign belonged to? No one knew, until some christened folk, who (according to this poet) were then very few, gave the required information. Constantine is baptised by Silvester. III. Zealous to recover the true Cross, he sends his mother, Elene, with a great equipment to Judea. IV. She proclaims an assembly, and 3,000 come together, and she requires of them to choose those who can answer whatever questions she may ask. V. They select 500 for that purpose. When they are come to the queen, she addresses a chiding speech to them about their blindness in rejecting Him who came according to prophecy; but she does not reveal her aim. Afterwards, the Jews in consternation discuss among themselves what the imperial lady can mean. At length one Judas divines that she wants the Cross which is hidden, and which it is of the greatest consequence to keep from discovery; for his grandfather Zacheus, when a-dying, told his son, the speaker’s father, that whenever that Cross was found the power of the Jews would end. VI. The speaker further said that his father told him the history of the Saviour’s life, and how his son Stephen had believed in him and had been stoned. The speaker was a boy when his father told him this, and seems to have thus learnt about his brother Stephen for the first time.[138] VII. When they are summoned into the imperial presence they all profess to know nothing about the subject of her inquiry, they had never heard of such a thing before! She threatens. Then they select Judas as a wise man who knows more than the rest, and they leave him as a hostage. VIII. The queen will know where the Rood is. Judas pleads that it all happened so long ago that he knows nothing about it. She says it was not so long ago as the Trojan war, and yet people know about that. When he persists, she orders him to be imprisoned and kept without food. He endures for six days, but on the seventh he yields. IX. Released from prison he leads the way to Calvary. He utters a fervent supplication in Hebrew, in which he pleads that He who in the famous times of old revealed to Moses the bones of Joseph would make known by a sign the place of the Rood, vowing to believe in Christ if his prayer is granted. X. A steam rises from the ground. There they dig, and at a depth of twenty feet three crosses are found. Which is the holy Rood? A dead man is carried by; Judas brings the corpse in contact with the crosses one after another, and the touch of the third restores life. XI. Satan laments that he has suffered a new defeat, which is all the harder as the agent is “Judas,” a name so friendly to him before! He threatens a persecuting king who shall make the newly-converted man renounce his faith. Judas returns a spirited answer, and Helena rejoices to hear the new convert rise superior to the Wicked one. XII. The report spreads, to the joy of Christians and the confusion of the Jews. The queen sends an embassy to the emperor at Rome with the happy tidings. The greatest curiosity was displayed in the cities on their road. Constantine, in his exaltation, sent them quickly back to Helena with instructions to build a church in their united names on the sacred spot of the discovery. The queen gathered from every side the most highly-skilled builders for the church; and she caused the holy Rood to be studded with gold and jewels, and then firmly secured in a chest of silver:—
XIII. Helena sends for Eusebius, “bishop of Rome,” and he, at her bidding, makes Judas bishop in Jerusalem, and changes his name to Cyriacus. Then she inquires after the nails of the crucifixion, and, at the prayer of Cyriacus, their hiding-place is revealed. When the nails were brought to the queen she wept aloud, and the fountain of her tears flowed over her cheeks and down upon the jewels of her apparel. XIV. She seeks guidance by oracle as to the disposal of the nails. She is directed to make of them rings for the bridle of the chief of earthly kings. He who rides to war with such a bridle should be invincible; and a prophecy to that effect is quoted! Helena obeys, and sends the bridle over sea to Constantine,—“no contemptible gift!” Helena assembles the chief men of the Jews, bids them submit to Cyriacus, and keep up the anniversary of the Finding of the Cross. Finally, for those who keep the day is proclaimed a benediction so unmeasured and profuse as to leave behind it an air in which the solemn evaporates in the histrionic.
Here more than in any other piece of Anglo-Saxon poetry we feel near the mediæval drama. Almost every canto is like a scene; and little adaptation would be required to put it upon the stage. The narrative at the beginning is like a prologue, and then after the close of the piece we have an epilogue, in which the author speaks about himself, and weaves his name with Runes into the verses in the manner already described.
The briefest fragment in the Vercelli book is about False Friendship; and it contains a long-drawn simile in which the bee is rather hardly treated.
The “Runic Poem”[139] is a string of epigrams on the characters of the Runic alphabet, beginning with F, U, Þ, O, R, C, according to that primitive order, whence that alphabet was called the “Futhorc.” Each of these characters has a name with a meaning, mostly of some well-known familiar thing, apt subject for epigram.
When learned men began to look at the Runes with an eye of erudite curiosity, they often ranged them in the A, B, C order of the Roman alphabet; hence it gives the Rune poem some air of antiquity that it runs in the old Futhorc order. And, indeed, some of the versicles may perhaps be ancient; that is, they may possibly date from a time when Runes were still in practical use. But certainly much of this chaplet of versicles must be regarded as late and dilettante work. The Rune names are not all clearly authentic; for example, “Eoh” is rather dubious; but the poet treats the name as meaning Yew, and gives us an interesting little epigram on the Yew-tree:—
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EOH bith utan unsmethe treow heard hrusan fæst hyrde fyres wyrtrumum underwrethed wynan on æthle. |
Yew is outwardly unpolished tree; hard and ground-fast, guardian of fire; with roots underwattled the home of the Want.[140] |
The Riddles are mostly after Simphosius and Aldhelm;[141] but some are aboriginal. The form is mostly that of the epigram, only instead of having the name of the subject at the head of the piece as with epigrams, these little poems end with a question what the subject is. These Riddles are found in the Exeter book in three batches; Grein has drawn them all together, and made eighty-nine of them. That on the Book-Moth, of which the Latin has been given above, p. [88], is unriddled by the translator:—
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Moððe word fiæt; me þæt þuhte wrætlicu wyrd þa ic þæt wundor gefrægn; þæt se wyrm forswealg wera gied sumes þeof in þystro þrymfæstne cwide and þæs strangan staðol. Stælgiest ne wæs wihte þy gleawra þe he þam wordum swealg. |
Moth words devoured; to me it seemed a weird event when I the wonder learnt; that the worm swallowed sentence of man (thief in the dark) document sure, binding and all. The burglar was never a whit the more wise for the words he had gulped. |
Toward the end of the period, the poetic form becomes much diluted. The poetic diction wanes, so does the figured style and the parallel structure; and what remains is an alliterative rhythmical prose, which, from the nature of the subjects treated, appears to have been very taking for the ear of the people. Of this sort is the Lay of King Abgar, which Professor Stephens assigns to the reign of Cnut. The Abgar legend is in Eusebius (died 340) “History,” i. 13. Abgar, king of Edessa, being sick, wrote a letter to the Saviour (it being the time of His earthly ministry) praying him to come and heal him, and adding, that if, as he hears, the Jews seek to persecute Him, his city of Edessa, though a little one, is stately, and sufficient for both.
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... and ic wolde the biddan thæt thu gemedemige the sylfne thæt thu siðige to me and mine untrumnysse gehæle for than the ic eom yfele gahæfd. Me is eac gesæd thæt tha Judeiscan syrwiath and runiath him betwynan hu hi the berædan magon, and ic hæbbe ane burh, the unc bam genihtsumath. |
... and I would thee pray, that thou condescend to come unto me, and my infirmity cure, for I am in evil case. To me is eke said that the Jews are plotting and rowning together how they may destroy thee; and I have a burgh large enough for us both.[142] |
The impression which this secondary poetry leaves is, that the old ancestral form could no longer furnish an adequate poetry for the growing mind of the nation. In contrast with the expanding prose, it seems to shrink and fade before our eyes. Its only means of enlargement seems to be in forgetting its own traditions and assimilating itself to the prose. Moreover, we have traces of various tentative sallies; one poet trying rhymes,[143] another trying hexameters,[144] which reminds us of the efforts and essays of the unsatisfied poetic genius in the middle of the sixteenth century. The Benedictine revival had drawn off the interest from the old native themes of song to subjects less fitted for poetry, or with which the poetry of the time was not yet skilled to deal. The old poetry fitted the old heroic themes with which it had grown up; and now it throve better on apocryphal and legendary fables than on the verities of the faith which were rather beyond its strength. In the new zeal the old vein of poetry was lost or neglected, and its place was not yet appropriately filled.
For this want a provision was already making in the south. A fresh spirit of poetry had risen in the region where Roman and Arabic fancy met, and, after kindling France, was coming to England on the wings of the French language. With the new romances came new models of poetic form. A long struggle ensued between the native garb of English poetry and that of the French. Both lived together until the fourteenth century, when the victory of the French form was finally determined in Chaucer; and France set the fashion in poetry to England, as it did generally to modern Europe.
[131] In Wright’s “Biographia Literaria,” Anglo-Saxon Period, p. 502, seq., these three Runic passages are collected and translated. In Bosworth’s “Anglo-Saxon Dictionary,” ed. Toller, v. Cynewulf; the Runic passage is quoted from the Elene, and translated. This poet’s Runic device affects us somewhat as when, at the end of a volume of Coleridge’s poems, we come upon his epitaph, written by himself:—
“Stop, Christian passer-by!—Stop, child of God!
And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seem’d he—
Oh, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.!”
[132] In Haupt’s “Zeitschrift,” ix.
[133] We have already seen in the chapter on the West Saxon laws, that a bookmaker of the Saxon period appended the laws of Ine to the laws of Alfred, as if he found it natural to treat the old material as an appendix to the new.—But there is also something on the other side. In the after part of the Exeter book there are three batches of riddles, and the first riddle of the first series (Thorpe, p. 380), is a charade upon the name of Cynewulf, as was shown by Heinrich Leo. This has naturally led to the surmise that Cynewulf has had more to do with the riddles than simply to preface them in his own honour.
[134] Thus:—“ofer ealne yrmenne grund.” Juliana init.; and in the same poem we find “bealdor” used of a woman!
[135] All this is marred by William of Malmesbury, who represents him as having trafficked for this promotion, and as having been cut off before he had long enjoyed it. And yet the two pictures are not incompatible. The poetry sets before us a poet of the most splendid gifts, but I know nothing that indicates a superiority of character. Indeed, the comparison with Solomon suggests a moral type to which the known and supposed writings of Cynewulf aptly correspond.
[136] “Dorsum immane mari summo.” Æneid i.
[137] Milton has set this to his own deep music:—
“Him haply slumb’ring on the Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-founder’d skiff
Deeming some island, oft, as seaman tell,
With fixed anchor....”
[138] The reader will not stumble at a few historical inaccuracies in a narrative where a speaker in Helena’s time is a brother of the protomartyr.
[139] Kemble, “Runes of the Anglo-Saxons,” pp. 13-19. Grein, vol. ii., p. 351; and literary notice at p. 413.
[140] It may not be known to all readers, that this is an English word; and historically, perhaps, the best English name, for the mole (talpa). Along the Elbe it appears in a form nearer to that of the text: “Win worp oder Wind-worp, der Maulwurf.” Bremisch-Niedersachsisches Wörterbuch.
[141] See Prof. Dietrich in Haupt’s “Zeitschrift,” xi.
[142] Prof. Stephens, “Tvende Olde-Engelske Digte,” Kiobenhavn, 1853.
[143] “The Riming Poem,” Cod. Exon. ed. Thorpe, p. 352.
[144] Stubbs, “St. Dunstan,” Preface.
CHAPTER XII.
THE NORMAN CONQUEST AND AFTER THAT.
The first of these chapters took a brief survey of the literature that preceded and elevated the Anglo-Saxon literature: this concluding chapter must be still briefer in sketching the manner of its decline. It would be true to say that the Norman Conquest dealt a fatal blow to Anglo-Saxon literature; but it would also be true to say that the cultivation of Anglo-Saxon literature never came to an end at all. I will presently endeavour to reconcile this seeming contradiction; but first I have some little remainder to tell of the main narrative.
There are two small sets of writings which have not yet been described. These are the liturgical and scientific remains. Of liturgical, we have the “Benedictionale of Æðelwold,”[145] and we have the so-called “Ritual of Durham,” with its interlinear Northumbrian gloss. But the most famous book of this kind is that which is called “The Leofric Missal,” because Leofric, the first Bishop of Exeter (of Crediton, 1046-1050; of Exeter, 1050-1072) gave it to his cathedral. It is now in the Bodleian Library. “It is one of the only three surviving Missals known to have been used in the English Church during the Anglo-Saxon period,” the other two being the Missal of Robert of Jumièges, Archbishop of Canterbury, now in Rouen Library, and the “Rede Boke of Darbye,” in the Parker Library at Cambridge.[146]
It may seem almost idle to talk of the “scientific” remains of Anglo-Saxon times. For Science, in its grandest sense,—the recognition of constant order in nature and the reign of law,—had not yet dawned upon the world. Science, in this sense, dates only from the seventeenth century, and its patriarchal names are Copernicus, Galileo, and Kepler. But, nevertheless, the earlier and feebler efforts at the explanation of phenomena have a real and a lasting value for human history, and what they lack in scientific quality has somehow the effect of throwing them all the more into the arms of the literary historian.
There is, however, one small Anglo-Saxon writing which needs not this apology, and which may be considered as a real contribution even to science. I mean the Geography which King Alfred inserted into his translation of Orosius. All our other scientific relics are but compilation and translation in the primitive paths of Medicine, and Botany, and Astronomy.
We have some considerable lists of Anglo-Saxon Botany. The vernacular names of plants, many of them, seem to indicate a Latin tradition dating from Roman times.[147] In the medical treatises we see the practice of medicine greatly mingled with superstition. Witchcraft is reckoned among the causes of disease, and formulæ are provided for breaking the spell. The “Leech Book” contains a series of prescriptions for divers ailments, with directions for preparation and medical treatment. One batch of these prescriptions is said to have been sent to King Alfred by Elias, Patriarch of Jerusalem. A very popular book was the Herbarium of Apuleius. It was translated into Anglo-Saxon, and four manuscripts of this translation are still extant.[148]
On astronomical and cosmical matters there exists a well-written little treatise of unknown authorship. It has been attributed to Ælfric, and it is most likely a work of his time. It seems to have been very popular.[149] It is, as it professes to be in the prologue, a popular abridgment of Beda, “De Natura Rerum.” It begins with a succinct abstract of the creation, the sixth day being thus rendered:—
| On ðam syxtan dæge he gescop eall deor cynn, ⁊ ealle nytena þe on feower fotum gað, ⁊ þa twegen menn Adam ⁊ Efan. | On the sixth day he created all animal-kind, and all the beasts that go on four feet, and the two men Adam and Eve. |
The eclipse of the moon is well explained. After saying that Night is the shade of the earth when the sun goes down under it, before it comes up the other side,—
| Woruldlice uðwitan sædon, {þæt} seo sceadu astihð up oð ðæt heo becymð to þære lyfte ufeweardan, and þonne be yrnð se mona hwiltidum þonne he full byð on ðære sceade ufeweardre, and faggeteð oððe mid ealle asweartað, for þam þe he næfð þære sunnan leoht þa hwile þe he þære sceade ord ofer yrnð oð ðæt þære sunnan leoman hine eft onlihton. | Worldly philosophers said, that the shadow mounts up until it arrives at the top of the atmosphere, and then sometimes the moon when he is full runs into the upper part of the shadow, and is darkened or utterly blackened, forasmuch as he hath not the sun’s light so long as he traverses the shadow’s point until that the sun’s rays again enlighten him. |
The Norman Conquest gave the death-blow to our old native literature, in the sense that the use of the literary Anglo-Saxon in its first integrity, as at once a learned language and a spoken language, did not extend beyond the generation that witnessed that great dynastic change. In this strict sense we might point to the close of the Worcester Chronicle in 1079 as the termination of Anglo-Saxon literature. There is, indeed, a Saxon Chronicle that was even begun after that date, one which comprises the whole Saxon period, and was continued by original writers down to 1154, but it is not written in normal Anglo-Saxon. It represents the flectional decay which the living and popular English was undergoing.
It exhibits, also, something of that new growth which was to compensate for the loss of flection. And it already bears marks of that French influence which was so largely to affect the whole complexion of the language. I quote from the last Annal in the Saxon Chronicle of Peterborough:—
| 1154. On þis gær wærd þe King Stephan ded and bebyried þer his wif and his sune wæron bebyried æt Faures feld, þet minstre hi makeden . Þa þe King was ded, þa was þe eorl beionde sæ . and ne durste nan man don oþer bute god for þe micel eie of him . Þa he to Engle land com . þa was he under fangen mid micel wurtscipe . and to king bletcæd in Lundene on þe Sunnen dæi be foren midwinter dæi . and held þær micel curt. | In this year was King Stephen dead and buried where his wife and his son were buried at Feversham, the minster he made. When the King was dead, then was the earl beyond sea, and no man durst do other than good for the great awe of him. When he came to England, then was he received with great worship, and consecrated king in London on the Sunday before Christmas Day; and he held there a great court. |
Here, then, at the very latest, we must close the canon of Anglo-Saxon literature. And here our subject branches in two; we have to follow with a brief glance what happened in two divergent lines of succession. As when, in the early mountainous course of some growing river, a broken hill has fallen across its bed, the old water-way is choked, and the descending waters make new channels to the right and to the left; so it was with the fortunes of our native language and literature after the Norman Conquest. The stream of largest volume was the spontaneous and popular utterance which amused in hall and taught in church; the lesser stream was the artificial maintenance of Anglo-Saxon literature which went on in the old seats of religion and learning.
The Norman Conquest brought in a vast body of romantic literature. Heroic or entertaining tales in a ballad form were at that time highly popular; and a peculiar talent for this sort of narrative was developed in France and among the Normans. The oldest French romances were those of which the central figure was Charles the Great. It was one of these, the “Song of Roland,” that animated the conquering Normans at Senlac. According to high authorities, it was in the next generation after the Conquest that the “Chanson de Roland” took that final epic form which now it bears, and probably the poet’s home was in England.[150] For a long time the speech of the upper society was wholly French. The two languages quickly met one another in the market, and in all the necessary business of life; but in respect of literature they long stood apart. Such was the state of things in this island during the time in which the Carling cycle prevailed. With that cycle the English language never came into contact at all in its palmy days; and the few Carling poems that exist in English are of later date, and are of a mixed nature. When at length, towards the close of the twelfth century, a literary intercourse had sprung up between the two languages, the hero of popular song was no longer Charles, but Arthur. In the English poetry of Layamon (1205), founded upon the French of Robert Wace, we see the story of Arthur in that early stage where it still purports to be history rather than romance. Layamon represents the first great step from the old literature to the new; and he is the first to give an English home to that ideal king who was to be the chosen theme of Spenser and of Tennyson. We will quote the death of Arthur and his funeral cortège:—
In this poetry there is a new vein of popularity. Since we left the primary poetry we have been on the track of a literature whose spring was in book-learning. A foreign erudition had thrown the lore of the native minstrel into the shade. But some relics of domestic material reappear with the new gush of popular song in the 13th century. Among the mass of stories which fill that time, we find here and there an old English tale, and sometimes it is a translation back from the French. The romance of King Horn is one of these. The names of the personages, and the general course of the plot—the Saracens notwithstanding—are essentially Saxon. There are lines which are almost pure Saxon poetry, and there are incidents that recall the Beowulf.
The story is as follows:—Horn was the son of the King of Suddene; he was of matchless beauty, and he had twelve companions, among whom two were specially dear to him; they were Athulf and Fikenild, the best and the worst. The land was conquered by Saracens, who slew the king, but sent off Horn and his twelve in a ship to perish at sea. They came to a land where the king was Aylmar, who thus addressed them:—
Whannes beo ȝe, faire gumes,
That her to londe beoth icume,
Alle throttene
Of bodie swithe kene.
“Whence be ye, fair gentlemen, that here to land are come? All thirteen of body very keen. By him that made me, so fair a band saw I at no time; say what ye seek?” Horn tells his story, and Aylmar likes him, and bids Athelbrus, his steward, teach him woodcraft, and the harp and song, and also to carve and be cupbearer:—
Bifore me to kerve
And of the cupe serve.
The Princess Rymenhild falls in love with Horn, and this is an occasion to prove the loyalty of Athulf. She orders Athelbrus to send Horn to her; but he, fearing the consequences, and being specially responsible for Horn, sends Athulf instead. Athulf finds that the princess has been deceived, and declares at once that he is not Horn. When at length Horn does meet Rymenhild, he points out to her the inequality of his rank. She gets her father to knight him. She also gives him a ring, in which the stones are of such virtue that if he looks on them and thinks of her he need fear no wounds:—
The stones beoth of suche grace
That thu ne schalt in none place
Of none duntes beon of drad.
He rides forth in search of adventures to prove his knighthood. He falls in with a crew of Saracens, slays 100 of them, and brings the head of the master Saracen on the point of his sword to the king, where he sits in hall among his knights, and presents it in acknowledgment of his dubbing (compare p. [130] above). Fikenild tells Aylmar of Horn’s love for his daughter, and Aylmar banishes Horn. Departing, he promises Rymenhild to return in seven years or she shall be free to marry another. He leaves the faithful Athulf behind to look after Rymenhild.
He arrives at the court of King Thurston, and there he calls himself Cutberd. The land is infested by pagan invaders. Cutberd slays a giant and many of the Saracens who were with him. Thurston offers him his daughter and the kingdom with her. Cutberd tells the king that it must not be so, but that he will claim his reward when he has relieved the king of all his troubles, which will be at seven years’ end (compare p. 131 above).
Meanwhile, Rymenhild is sought in marriage by King Modi, and the day is fixed. In her distress she sends in all directions to seek Horn; her messenger finds Horn and delivers his message, but he never returns to the princess, because he is drowned. Now Horn tells King Thurston his story, and entreats his help. He adds that he will provide a worthy husband for his daughter, namely, Athulf, one of the best and truest of knights. Thurston assembles his men and they go with Horn. Horn leaves them under the wood while he goes towards the palace. He meets a palmer and changes clothes with him. In the palace he takes his place with the beggars, and when Rymenhild rises to offer wine to the guests he gets speech of her and lets her see the ring she had given him. This leads to a full recognition and the betrothal of Horn with Rymenhild. Such is the tale of King Horn.
But, of all the old native stories that crop up in this later time, the most remarkable is the “Lay of Havelok the Dane,” a large subject which we can only just indicate here.[151]
Of the learned branches a good deal continued unbroken by the Conquest. Such was mostly the case with Homilies and Lives of saints, and Poetry of the allegorical and instructive kind.
In the Exeter Song-book we saw pieces that had been taken from the old book “Physiologus.” This allegorical poetry retained its place through all the changes.[152] Here is a passage from the “Whale,” in the language of the thirteenth century:—
Wiles that weder is so ille,
the sipes that arn on se fordriven
(loth hem is deth, and lef to liven)
biloken hem and sen this fis;
an eilond he wenen it is.
Thereof he aren swithe fagen,
and mid here migt tharto he dragen,
sipes onfesten,
and alle up gangen.
Of ston mid stel in the tunder
wel to brennen one this wunder,
warmen hem wel and heten and drinken;
the fir he feleth and doth hem sinken,
for sone he diveth dun to grunde,
he drepeth hem alle withuten wunde.
These examples may suffice to represent that new literature which began to rise after the violent removal of the old. They do not belong to the history of Anglo-Saxon literature except indirectly as a foil and a contrast. They show how ready were new forms to take the place of the old. But while the English language was thus following the natural and spontaneous course of its development, there still survived a powerful interest in the old classical Englisc. The seat of this literature was in the old monasteries, which became strongholds of ancient culture and tradition. The old books were perused and re-copied, and a scholarly knowledge of the old language was made an object of study. This was sustained not only by sentiment, and curiosity, and literary taste, but also by a sense of corporate interest. The titles of the old monasteries to their lands were wholly or very largely contained in Saxon writings, and these grew in importance with the growing habits of documentary legality under Norman rule. A language which was at once native and recondite, far more recondite than the Latin of the ordinary scholar, could not but be impressive as a documentary medium. The number of extant Saxon books and deeds which were either originally composed after the Conquest, or at least re-copied and re-edited, is quite enough to prepare us to receive what Matthew Parker said in the Latin preface to his edition (1574) of “Asser”:—
“Furthermore; inasmuch as the medium of many legal documents and venerable memorials and royal charters preserved in archives, dating, some before, some after, the coming of the Normans into England, is Saxon both in language and in writing, I will advise all who study the institutions of this realm, to undergo the slight and insignificant labour which is necessary to make themselves masters of this language. If they will but do this, they will doubtless make discoveries daily, and will bring to light things which now lie hidden and remote; yea, they will without effort clear up the intricacies and perplexities of a great number of things. And in ages past there were societies of religious persons who were ordered by our forefathers for this work, that some among them might be trained in the knowledge of this tongue, and might transmit the same in succession to those who came after. To wit, in Tavistock Abbey, in the county of Devon, and in many other fraternities (within my memory) this was an established thing; to the end, as I suppose, that acquaintance with a literature whose language is antiquated might not perish for lack of use.”
Thus we see that in the centuries between the Conquest and the Reformation the old Englisc was a recognised subject of study; and that it enjoyed, as the Latin did, the honours of an ancient language which was too much esteemed to be allowed to perish. And, therefore, it was said above that the Anglo-Saxon language and literature never died out; for the knowledge of it was kept up till the time when, through the general Revival of learning, new motives were supplied for its diligent study, and the very man in whom the new movement is impersonated is he who testifies that the study had lasted down to a time within his own memory.
[145] Written and illustrated with miniatures by order of Æðelwold, Bishop of Winchester, A.D. 963-984. Hexameter verses in a superior style of penmanship, namely, the old Latin rustic, record the history of the book, and give the scribe’s name as Godeman, perhaps the Abbot of Thorney, who began A.D. 970. The illuminations are engraved in “Archæologia,” xxiv.
[146] The “Leofric Missal,” edited by F. E. Warren, B.D., Clarendon Press, 1883.
[147] Particulars may be found in my “English Plant Names from the Tenth to the Fifteenth Century,” Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1880.
[148] The medical treatises have been collected in three volumes (Rolls Series) by Mr. Cockayne, under the title of “Saxon Leechdoms.”
[149] There are four copies of it in the Cotton Library, and one in Cambridge University library; some also in other collections. It has been printed from a Cotton manuscript written, the editor says, about A.D. 990. “Popular Treatises on Science,” edited by T. Wright, 1841.
[150] “La Chanson de Roland,” par Léon Gautier, ed. 7 (1880), Introduction.
[151] This poem, of which there are many external traces, had long been given up as lost, was deplored by Tyrwhitt and by Ritson, and was accidentally discovered in a Bodleian manuscript, latent amidst legends of saints. From this unique MS. it was edited by Sir F. Madden; and again (1868) by the Rev. W. W. Skeat, who says in his preface:—“There can be little doubt that the tradition must have existed from Anglo-Saxon times, but the earliest mention of it is presented to us in the French version of the Romance.... The story is in no way connected with France; ... From every point of view, ... the story is wholly English,” p. iv.
[152] An old English Miscellany, containing a “Bestiary,” &c., ed. R. Morris (E.E.T.S.), 1872, p. 17. The “Phisiologus” is quoted in Chaucer, apparently from this very “Bestiary”; and Dr. Morris says that scraps of it are found even in Elizabethan writers. I add a translation of the piece quoted:—“Whilst that weather is so bad, the ships that are driven about on the sea (death is unwelcome, men love to live) look about them and see this fish; they ween it is an island. They are very glad of it, and with all their might they draw towards it, make the ships fast, and all go ashore. With stone and steel and tinder they make a good fire on this monster, and warm themselves well, and eat and drink; the whale feels the fire and makes them sink, for he quickly dives to the bottom, he kills them all without wound.”
INDEX.
- Abgar, Lay of, [241]
- Abingdon Chronicle, [32], [173]
- Ælfric, Abbot, [23], [40], [67], [207], [213], [221], [245]
- Bata, [40]
- Ælfheah, Archbishop, [224]
- Æthelberht, [81]
- Æthelred’s Laws, [164]
- Æthelweard, [183], [220]
- Æthelwold, Bishop, [25], [51], [181], [207], [219], [243]
- Aidan, Bishop, [99]
- Alcuin, [23], [99], [117]
- Aldhelm, [21], [53], [86]
- Alfred, [15], [24], [186] ff., [207], [244]
- Alfred Jewel, [49]
- Alfred’s Laws, [154] ff.
- Andreas, the, [90], [233] f.
- “Anglo-Saxon,” [206]
- Apollonius of Tyre, [18], [212]
- Apuleius, [245]
- Architecture, [52]
- Arnold, Thomas, [121], [136]
- Arthur, [59], [249]
- Arundel Marbles, [48]
- Ashburnham House, [32]
- Ashmolean Museum, [49]
- Asser, [43], [183], [187], [256]
- Athelstan’s Laws, [159]
- Augustine, Archbishop, [52]
- Avitus, Bishop, [14]
- Ballads, the, [145] ff.
- Baron, Dr., [221]
- Beda, [21], [64], [81], [102] ff., [204], [245]
- Benedict of Nursia, [15]
- of Aniane, [209]
- Beowulf, the, [32], [45], [58], [68], [71], [120] ff., [225]
- Biscop, Benedict, [86], [99]
- Blickling Homilies, [47], [139], [213] ff.
- Blume, Dr., [46]
- Bodleian Library, [34]
- Boethian Metres, [71], [202] ff.
- Boethius, [14], [201] ff.
- Boniface (Winfrid), [21]
- Bosworth, Dr., [44], [226]
- Bradford-on-Avon, [53]
- Buckley, Professor, [40]
- Burials, Saxon, [55]
- Byrhtnoth, [217]
- Cædmon, [14], [22], [39], [68], [99], [111]
- Cæsar, [62]
- Camden, William, [43], [183]
- Canons of Ælfric, [67], [220]
- Canterbury, [20], [79], [98]
- Carling Romances, [248]
- Cenwalh, [180]
- Ceolfrid, Abbot, [102]
- Charles the Great, [187], [248]
- Chaucer, [27], [242], [254]
- Chronicles, the, [20], [22], [61], [169] ff.
- Cockayne, Oswald, [245]
- Colman, Bishop, [99]
- Conybeare, [45]
- Cotton Library, [32], [245]
- Cotton, Sir Robert, [31], [35]
- Coxe, Henry Octavius, [39], [40]
- Cuthbert, St., [99], [104]
- Cynewulf, [226] ff.
- Danihel, Bishop, [21]
- Dasent, Sir George, [68]
- Day, John, [35], [42]
- Days of the Week, [73]
- Dialogues, Gregory’s, [16], [36], [193] ff.
- of Solomon, &c., [210] ff.
- Dietrich, Professor, [208], [227], [240]
- Documents, Legal, [167]
- Dunstan, Archbishop, [25], [43], [207], [219]
- Durham Ritual, [111], [243]
- Eadmer, [52]
- Ebert, Adolf, [103], [118]
- Edda, the, [65]
- Eddi, [21], [99]
- Edwin, King, [98]
- Egbert, Archbishop, [21], [99]
- Elene, the, [90], [234] ff.
- Epinal Gloss, [91], [97]
- Ettmüller, Ludwig, [121], [134]
- Eusebius of Cæsarea, [241]
- of Emesa, [216]
- Evesham, [69]
- Exeter Book, [29], [88], [225] ff., [254].
- Eynsham, [220]
- Felix, Bishop, [80]
- Florence, [184]
- Floriacum, [25]
- Frankish Art, [51]
- Graves, [56]
- Freeman, E. A., [54], [141], [184], [206]
- Futhorc, the, [239]
- Gibson, Edmund, [45]
- Gildas, [60]
- Glossaries, [90]
- Godeman, [243]
- Gospels in A.-S., [73], [205], [208]
- Gough, Richard, [39]
- Gregory the Great, [15], [20], [85]
- Grein, Dr., [121], [135], [208], [220], [239].
- Grettir, Saga of, [137]
- Grimbald, [187]
- Grimm, Jacob, [46], [73], [153]
- Grundtvig, Dr., [121]
- Guthlac, St., [227], [232]
- Guthrum, [156], [159]
- Hadrian, Abbot, [21], [85]
- Harley, Robert, [34]
- Hatton, Lord, [36]
- Havelok the Dane, [254]
- Heliand, the, [22], [23], [68], [116]
- Henry of Huntingdon, [184]
- Heyne, Moritz, [121]
- Hickes, George, [44]
- Hickey, E. H., [144]
- Higden, [185]
- Hild, Abbess, [100]
- Homilies of Ælfric, [74], [102], [214] ff.
- of Wulfstan, [222] ff.
- see Blickling.
- Horn, Romance of, [251] ff.
- Hugo Candidus, [229]
- Illuminated Books, [51]
- Ine’s Laws, [151]
- Inscriptions, [47]
- Irish Teachers, [86]
- Isidore of Seville, [85]
- Jarrow, [103]
- Jerome, [217]
- Jewellery, [49]
- John of Saxony, [187]
- Joscelin, [43]
- Judith, the, [225]
- Juliana, St., [227], [232]
- Junius, Franciscus, [37], [44], [112]
- Kemble, J. M., [90], [121], [154], [210], [226], [228], [239]
- Kentish Dialect, [84], [90], [97]
- Laws, [80]
- Lambarde, William, [150] {footnote [91]}
- Lanferth, [219]
- Lappenberg, J. M., [46], [169]
- Laud, Archbishop, [34]
- Laws, the, [66], [150] ff.
- Layamon, [27], [249]
- Leofric, Bishop, [28], [244]
- Lumby, Professor, [103]
- Lindisfarne, [117]
- Macray, W. D., [34]
- Madden, Sir F., [254]
- Maidulf, [86]
- Maine, Sir H., [154], [163]
- Marshall, Dr., [44]
- Matthew Parker, [29], [42], [256]
- Mayor, Professor, [103]
- Metcalfe, F., [44]
- Milton, John, [14], [112], [115], [232]
- More, Bishop, [41], [101]
- Morfil, W. R., [148]
- Morley, Henry, [134]
- Morris, Dr. R., [222], [254]
- Müllenhof, Dr. Karl, [134]
- Napier, Arthur, [222]
- Nicodemus, Gospel of, [209]
- Northumbria, [21]
- Northumbrian Dialect, [111]
- Notker, [15]
- Palgrave, Sir Francis, [152], [164]
- Panther, the, [231]
- Parker, Archbishop, [29], [42], [256]
- Parker, J. H., [54]
- Parker Library, [44], [244]
- Pastoral Care, the, [16], [36], [188] ff.
- Paulinus, Bishop, [98]
- Pauli, Reinhold, [169]
- Paulus Diaconus, [23]
- Pericles (Shakespeare), [18]
- Peterborough Chronicle, [26], [36], [178], [181], [184]
- Phœnix, the, [9], [227], [230]
- Physiologus, the, [215], [231], [254]
- Pilate, Acts of, [209]
- Plegmund, Archbishop, [187]
- Psalter (Kentish), [94]
- Rawlinson, Richard, [38], [45]
- Riddles, [87], [240]
- Robert of Jumièges, [244]
- Rochester Book, [26]
- Ruined City, the, [140]
- Rule of St. Benedict, [40]
- Runes, [78], [111], [226], [238]
- Runic Poem, [239]
- Rushworth, John, [38]
- Ruthwell Cross, [111]
- Sanders, W. Basevi, [41]
- Schaldemose, [121]
- Schmid, Reinhold, [150]
- Scott, Sir Walter, [150], [228]
- Sculpture, [55]
- Sievers, Edouard, [116]
- Sigeric, Archbishop, [217]
- Simeon of Durham, [177], [184]
- Simposius, [10], [240] Transcriber’s note: Symposius and Simphosius in text
- Skeat, Professor, [44], [111], [218], [254]
- Smaragdus, [23]
- Solomon and Saturn, [209] ff.
- Somner, William, [44]
- Spell, [75]
- Spelman, Sir Henry, [43], [44]
- Sir John, [44]
- Spenser, Edmund, [136], [249]
- St. Augustine’s, Canterbury, [20], [35]
- Stallybrass, J. S., [70]
- Stephens, Professor George, [47], [111], [117], [241]
- Stubbs, Professor, [162], [183], [185]
- Sweet, Mr., [33]
- Swithun, St., [69], [218], [219]
- Tacitus, [62]
- Tavistock, [256]
- Tennyson, Alfred, [136], [147], [249]
- Theodore, Archbishop, [21], [85], [100]
- Thorkelin, G. J., [45], [121]
- Thorney, [243]
- Thorpe, Benjamin, [46], [121], [150], [208], [222]
- Thwaites, Edward, [220]
- Trial by Jury, [163] ff.
- Wace, Robert, [27], [249]
- Walahfrid Strabo, [23]
- Waldhere (Fragment), [47]
- Wanley, Humphrey, [45]
- Warren, F. E., [244]
- Watson, R. Spence, [113]
- Wearmouth, [102]
- Weland, [58], [70]
- Werfrith, Bishop, [36], [187], [189], [193]
- Westwood, Professor, [30], [39], [51]
- Whale, the, [231], [255]
- Wheloc, Abraham, [43], [150]
- Whitby, [99]
- Widsith, the, [148]
- Wilfrid, [99], [100]
- Wilkins, Bishop, [150]
- Willebrord, [99]
- William of Malmesbury, [185]
- Winchester Chronicle, [171], [178]
- Winfrid (Boniface), [21], [99]
- Winton Book, [26]
- Woden, [66]
- Worcester Chartulary, [26]
- Wordsworth, Canon, [48]
- Wright, Thomas, [183], [226], [245]
- Wülcker, Professor, [112], [140]
- Wulfstan, Archbishop, [224]
- Wulstan, Latin poet, [219]
- York, [21]
THE END.
WYMAN AND SONS, PRINTERS, GREAT QUEEN STREET, LONDON, W.C.
CORRIGENDA.
Transcriber’s note: These corrections have been made in the transcribed text, except the first, which refers to a page heading.
Page [103], Heading, for “Anglican” read “Anglian.”
” [115], line 22, for “vora” read “[wora].”
” [150], ” 23, for “Lombarde” read “[Lambarde].” {footnote [91]}
” [154], ” 16, for “History” read “[history].”
” [208], ” 12, for “translations” read “[translation].”