This edition seems to have been repeated at St. Gall in 1693; and these two, which were the last, appear to have been the best. From that time this poem rested undisturbed until our own day, when an edition was published at Hanover, in Germany, by W. Müldener, after the Paris manuscripts, with the following title:—"Die zehn Gedichte des Walther von Lille, genannt von Châtillon. Nach der pariser Handschrift berichtigt, und zum ersten Male vollständig herausgegeben von W. Müldener." Hanover, 1859, 8vo. Such an edition ought to be useful in determining the text, for there must be numerous manuscripts in the Paris libraries. As long ago as 1795 there were no less than nineteen in the National Library, and also a manuscript at Tours, which had drawn forth a curious commentary by M. de Forcemagne.[23]
I ought not to forget here that in 1537 a passage from this poem was rendered into English blank verse, and is an early monument of our language. This was by Grimoald Nicholas, a native of Huntingdonshire, whose translation is entitled "The Death of Zoroas, an Egyptian Astronomer, in the First Fight that Alexander had with Persians."[24] This is not the only token of the attention it had awakened in England. Alexander Ross, the Scotch divine and author, made preparations for an edition. His dedicatory letter was written, bearing date 1644; also two different sets of dedicatory verses, and verses from his friend David Eclin, the scholarly physician to the king,[25] who had given him this "great treasure." But the work failed to appear. The identical copy presented by Eclin, with many marginal notes from Quintus Curtius and others, is mentioned as belonging to the Bishop of Ely at the beginning of the present century.[26] But the homage of the Scotchman still exists in his dedicatory letter:—"Si materiam consideres, elegantissimam utilissimamque historiam gestorum Alexandri magni continet; certe sive stylum, sive subjectum inspicias, dignam invenies quæ omnium teratur manibus, quamque adolescentes nocturna versentque manu, versentque diurna."[27] It will be observed that he does not hesitate to dwell on this poem as "most elegant and most useful," and by its style and subject worthy of the daily and nightly study of youth. In his verses Ross announces that Alexander was not less fortunate in his poet than the Greek chieftain in Homer:—
"Si felix præcone fuit dux Græcus Homero,
Felix nonne tuo est carmine dux Macedo?"
There was also another edition planned in France, during the latter part of the last century, by M. Daire, the librarian of the Celestines in Paris, founded on the Latin text, according to the various manuscripts, with a French translation; but this never appeared.[28]
Until the late appearance of an edition in Germany, it was only in editions shortly after the invention of printing that this poem could be found. Of course these are rare. The British Museum, in its immense treasure-house, has the most important, one of which belonged to the invaluable legacy of the late Mr. Grenville. The copy in the library of Lord Spencer is the Lyons edition of 1558. By a singular fortune, this volume was missing some time ago from its place on the shelves; but it has since been found; and I have now before me a tracing from its title-page. My own copy—and perhaps the only one this side of the Atlantic—is the Ingolstadt edition. It once belonged to John Mitford, and has on the fly-leaves some notes in the autograph of this honored lover of books.
Bibliography dwells with delight upon this poem, although latterly the interest centres in a single line. Brunet does full justice to it. So does his jealous rival, Graesse, except where he blunders. Watt, in his "Bibliotheca Britannica," mentions only the Lyons edition of 1558, on which he remarks, that "the typography is very singular." Clarke, in his "Repertorium Bibliographicum," bearing date 1819, where he gives an account of the most celebrated British libraries, mentions a copy of the first edition in the library of Mr. Steevens, who showed his knowledge of the poem in his notes to Shakspeare;[29] also a copy of the Lyons edition of 1558 in the library of the Marquis of Blandford, afterwards Duke of Marlborough. This learned bibliographer has a note calling attention to the fact that "there are variations in the famous disputed line in different editions of this poem": that in the first edition the line begins Corruis in Scyllam, but in the Lyons edition, Incidis in Scyllam; while, as we have already seen, Pasquier says, Decidis in Scyllam. Bohn, in his "Bibliographer's Manual," after referring in general terms to the editions, says of the poem, "In it will be found that trite verse so often repeated, Incidis, &c.,"—words which he seems to have borrowed from Beloe.[30] "Trite" seems to be hardly respectful.[31]
Very little is known of the author. He is called in Latin Philippus Gualterus or Galterus; in French it is sometimes Gaultier and sometimes Gautier. The French biographical dictionaries, whether of Michaud or of Didot, attest the number of persons who bore this name, of all degrees and professions. There was the Norman knight sans Avoir, who was one of the chiefs of the first Crusade. There also was another Gautier, known as the Sire d'Yvetot, stabbed to death by his sovereign, Clotaire, who afterwards in penitence erected the lordship of Yvetot into that kingdom which Béranger has immortalized. And there have been others of this name in every walk of life. Fabricius, in his "Bibliotheca Latina Mediæ et Infimæ Ætatis,"[32] mentions no less than seventy-six Latin authors of this name. A single verse has saved one of these from the oblivion which has overtaken the multitude.
He was born at Lille, but at what precise date is uncertain. Speaking generally, it may be said that he lived and wrote during the last half of the twelfth century, while Philip Augustus was King of France, and Henry II. and Richard Cœur-de-Lion ruled England, one century after Abélard, and one century before Dante. After studying at Paris, he went to establish himself at Châtillon; but it is not known at which of the three or four towns of this name in France. Here he was charged with the direction of schools, and became known by the name of this town, as appears in the epitaph, somewhat ambitiously Virgilian, which he wrote for himself:—
"Insula me genuit, rapuit Castellio nomen;
Perstrepuit modulis Gallia tota meis."
But he is known sometimes by his birthplace, and sometimes by his early residence. The highest French authority calls him Gaultier of Lille or of Châtillon.[33] He has been sometimes confounded with Gaultier of Coutances, Archbishop of Rouen, who was born in the island of Jersey;[34] and sometimes with the Bishop of Maguelonne of the same name, who was the author of an Exposition of the Psalter, and whose see was on an island in the Mediterranean, opposite the coast of France.[35]