Spiegel has ingeniously disentangled something of a biography of an archipoëta who flourished mainly in Burgundy and at Salzburg from 1160 to beyond the middle of the 13th century; but the proof of the reality of this individual is not convincing. It is doubtful, too, if the jocular references to the rules of the “gild” of goliards should be taken too seriously, though their aping of the “orders” of the church, especially their contrasting them with the mendicants, was too bold for church synods. Their satires were almost uniformly directed against the church, attacking even the pope. In 1227 the council of Trèves forbade priests to permit the goliards to take part in chanting the service. In 1229 they played a conspicuous part in the disturbances at the university of Paris, in connexion with the intrigues of the papal legate. During the century which followed they formed a subject for the deliberations of several church councils, notably in 1289 when it was ordered that “no clerks shall be jongleurs, goliards or buffoons,” and in 1300 (at Cologne) when they were forbidden to preach or engage in the indulgence traffic. This legislation was only effective when the “privileges of clergy” were withdrawn from the goliards. Those historians who regard the middle ages as completely dominated by ascetic ideals, regard the goliard movement as a protest against the spirit of the time. But it is rather indicative of the wide diversity in temperament among those who crowded to the universities in the 13th century, and who found in the privileges of the clerk some advantage and attraction in the student life. The goliard poems are as truly “medieval” as the monastic life which they despised; they merely voice another section of humanity. Yet their criticism was most keenly pointed, and marks a distinct step in the criticism of abuses in the church.
Along with these satires went many poems in praise of wine and riotous living. A remarkable collection of them, now at Munich, from the monastery at Benedictbeuren in Bavaria, was published by Schmeller (3rd ed., 1895) under the title Carmina Burana. Many of these, which form the main part of song-books of German students to-day, have been delicately translated by John Addington Symonds in a small volume, Wine, Women and Song (1884). As Symonds has said, they form a prelude to the Renaissance. The poems of “Bishop Golias” were later attributed to Walter Mapes, and have been published by Thomas Wright in The Latin Poems commonly attributed to Walter Mapes (London, 1841).
The word “goliard” itself outlived these turbulent bands which had given it birth, and passed over into French and English literature of the 14th century in the general meaning of jongleur or minstrel, quite apart from any clerical association. It is thus used in Piers Plowman, where, however, the goliard still rhymes in Latin, and in Chaucer.
See, besides the works quoted above, M. Haezner, Goliardendichtung und die Satire im 13ten Jahrhundert in England (Leipzig, 1905); Spiegel, Die Vaganten und ihr “Orden” (Spires, 1892); Hubatsch, Die lateinischen Vagantenlieder des Mittelalters (Görlitz, 1870); and the article in La grande Encyclopédie. All of these have bibliographical apparatus.
(J. T. S.*)
GOLIATH, the name of the giant by slaying whom David achieved renown (1 Sam. xvii.). The Philistines had come up to make war against Saul and, as the rival camps lay opposite each other, this warrior came forth day by day to challenge to single combat. Only David ventured to respond, and armed with a sling and pebbles he overcame Goliath. The Philistines, seeing their champion killed, lost heart and were easily put to flight. The giant’s arms were placed in the sanctuary, and it was his famous sword which David took with him in his flight from Saul (1 Sam. xxi. 1-9). From another passage we learn that Goliath of Gath, “the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam,” was slain by a certain Elhanan of Bethlehem in one of David’s conflicts with the Philistines (2 Sam. xxi. 18-22)—the parallel 1 Chron. xx. 5, avoids the contradiction by reading the “brother of Goliath.” But this old popular story has probably preserved the more original tradition, and if Elhanan is the son of Dodo in the list of David’s mighty men (2 Sam. xxiii. 9, 24), the resemblance between the two names may have led to the transference. The narratives of David’s early life point to some exploit by means of which he gained the favour of Saul, Jonathan and Israel, but the absence of all reference to his achievement in the subsequent chapters (1 Sam. xxi. 11, xxix. 5) is evidence of the relatively late origin of a tradition which in course of time became one of the best-known incidents in David’s life (Ps. cxliv., LXX. title, the apocryphal Ps. cli., Ecclus. xlvii. 4).
See [David]; [Samuel] (Books) and especially Cheyne, Aids and Devout Study of Criticism, pp. 80 sqq., 125 sqq. In the old Egyptian romance of Sinuhit (ascribed to about 2000 B.C.), the story of the slaying of the Bedouin hero has several points of resemblance with that of David and Goliath. See L. B. Paton, Hist. of Syr. and Pal., p. 60; A. Jeremias, Das A. T. im Lichte d. alten Orients, 2nd ed. pp. 299, 491; A. R. S. Kennedy, Century Bible: Samuel, p. 122, argues that David’s Philistine adversary was originally nameless, in 1 Sam. xvii. he is named only in v. 4.