THE USE AND ABUSE OF IN MEDIEVAL EPIC

A lecture to the Virgil Society, November 1976

by

A.K. Bate

“ The Middle Ages have left us absolutely nothing (o f Virgil) we can recognise; only the name remains. So complete a metamorphosis. . . half excuses the neglect which so long attached to medieval society.” 1 Thus wrote a Professor o f Latin at the University o f Oxford, one Robinson Ellis. My paper this afternoon will suggest that the learned professor was not really looking in the right way. He wanted a carbon copy o f the Roman Virgil. What he ought to have done was to listen to a ninth-century humanist, Lupus Servatus, who spent his time working on Cicero, not so that he could write like Cicero, but so that he could adapt Cicero’s style and improve his own. If Ellis had done that he would have seen the positive use to which Virgil was put by medieval writers.

The whole o f medieval Latin epic is too big a subject to treat in one hour, and because much o f it is of a pretty banal nature, the effort would be tiresome, not to say soporific. It is my intention to single out two epics in which one can see Virgil being used positively and abused positively, and a third in which he is abused negatively. The epics concerned are the tenth-century Waltharius by Gaeraldus, the eleventh- century anonymous Ruodlieb, and the twelfth-century Bellum Troianum by Joseph o f Exeter. That Virgil should be treated in varying and even contradictory ways will not o f course surprise classicists. At the beginning o f the first century AD the was being both praised and reviled, sometimes at the same time. Its use as a school text brought Virgil’s qualities to the attention o f the students but also a degree of odium in that he was compulsory. This dual effect can be seen in Lucan, for example, who can parody Virgil in the description o f Caesar’s visit to and yet follow his practice o f an opening statement o f . theme. As the Aeneid was compulsory reading in the Middle Ages it is only natural that he should arouse the same feelings then, and it must be remembered that as Lucan was read too his example would be present. And if this were not enough, there was also Prudentius’ Psychomachia, a terrible warning o f what was likely to happen if one did try to write Virgilian epic.

To an intelligent writer o f the late tenth century, it must have been obvious that a straightforward- attempt at writing a Latin epic was out o f the question. Virgil had successfully put an end to the allegorical epic for the time being. Prudentius had proved that one could not Christianize Virgilian epic by using Virgilian language and motifs. Lucan had shown that historical epic was a non-starter, though some later mediocre poets were to emulate him in their treatment o f Carolingian history. Statius had shown that using other people’s legendary past was not successful. As far as the legendary past o f the Germanic tribes was concerned this was being adequately catered for by epics in the Germanic languages.The only path open at that time, the tenth century, was to write a burlesque epic. This is what a Frankish monk called Gaeraldus from the monastery o f St Evre in Toul decided on. His epic, as he tells his episcopal patron in the prologue, Ludendum magis est dominum quam sit rogitandum 2

“ It is for pleasure rather than for religious purposes” We should not, therefore, expect the work to be serious. lik e Lucan, Gaeraldus was ready to parody his school texts, but his choice o f material was more eclectic. He had been brought up on Virgil as the number o f echoes testifies. (In his edition o f the 1456-line poem Karl Strecker lists over 450 Virgilian echoes, though some o f his examples are ludicrous, e.g. Waltharius vocor is an echo o f sum pius !). As a good Christian Gaeraldus had been exposed to Prudentius’ Psychomachia and o f course to the Bible. As a German he was steeped in the national epic legend o f the . So, he decided to poke fun in Latin at this Germanic legend while parodying Virgil, Prudentius and the Bible. In order to achieve this he placed three set-pieces into the story line. The central part o f the Waltharius is an elaborate send-up o f the battles in Prudentius. The conclusion o f the fighting between Walther and his opponents and is a parody o f Christ’s teaching to his disciples after the Beatitudes. But it is the first set-piece that I want to discuss today, the escape o f the hero Walther and his fiancee Hiltgund from the court o f the Hun. The passage is contained between lines 215 and 401. Walther comes into the palace to find Hiltgund there alone. They are both hostages and they were betrothed to each other when children. He asks her for a drink, and

ilia mero tallum complevit mox pretiosum (224)

One recalls Dido at Aeneid I, 728-9

hie regina gravem gemmis auroque poposcit implevitque mero pateram.

Walther holds her hand, and there follows a very odd description o f a sort o f wedding ceremony with Walther making a very un-Christian suggestion that they consummate the marriage there and then

Walthariusque bibens vacuum vas porrigit olli - ambo etenim norantde se sponsalia facta -

(the vas vacuum being a sexual symbol). Her reply shows that Gaeraldus is thinking o f Dido and Aeneas in a way that goes beyond the verbal parallels. She refuses to accept this unorthodox private wedding ceremony as a valid reason for losing her virginity. (In fact, she stays a virgin until after the public wedding at the end of the epic.) Walther replies that he was only joking

Absit quod memoras Noris me nihilum simulata mente locutum (241-2)

Two quotes from Aeneid IV, quod memoras (109) and sensit enim simulata mente locutam (105), both from the passage in which Venus replies to Juno about the wedding o f Dido and Aeneas, show how well Gaeraldus has adapted Virgilian language to differentiate between two weddings. And to clinch the point, it is only when Walther has assured her that he was only joking that Hiltgund answers

Ad quaecumque vocas, m i domne, sequar studiose

an echo o f the same Virgilian passage (114) perge : sequar. Walther explains his plan for the actual escape. He will throw a party for Attila and his courtiers and get them blind drunk. At that point the two fiance's will be able to slip away unnoticed.

The banquet starts with Attila downing his drink in one

E t simul in verbo nappam dedit arte peractam ordine sculpturae referentem gesta priorum, quam rex accipiens haustu vacuaverat uno, confestimque iubet reliquos imitarier omnes (308-11)

The language is that o f Dido’s banquet for Aeneas

ingens argentum mensis, caelataque in auro fortia facta patrum, series longissima rerum (I 640-1)

ille impiger hausit spumantem pateram et pleno se proluit auro; post aliiproceres. (I 738-40)

At this point Gaeraldus leaves behind the serious use o f Virgil and turns to pure parody. The party is a roaring success. In verbal echoes o f Aeneid V, VI, V II, and IX the drunken revelry is humourously described. Walther and Hiltgund set out as unheroically as Aeneas from Troy. Aeneas had his father on his shoulders, his son by his side and his wife walking behind. Walther is armed to the teeth, with one two-edged sword, one one-edged sword, javelin and shield. He has helmet, breastplate three layers thick and wicket-keeper size shinpads. His horse Leo, stat sonipes acfrenaferox spumantia mandit (328) is in fact a packhorse carrying two middle- sized boxes, led by Hiltgund who has the reins in one hand and a loaded fishing rod in the other.

Meanwhile, back in the palace next morning, everyone is coming to with a glorious hangover, and looking for Walther to thank him for the great party. Attila’s queen, Ospirin, realises that Walther and Hiltgund have flown. She berates her husband like Mercuty berates Aeneas, IV, 265 ff. Attila, like Aeneas, nunc hue animum tristem, nunc dividit illuc (IV , 285, with celerem for tristem j. In a series o f Virgilian lines, drawn from various books, but with a preponderance from IV, the description o f Dido’s mind, angry at her jilting by Aeneas, is used to describe Attila’s queasy stomach.

Ac velut Aeolicis turbatur arena procellis sic intestinis rex fluctuat undique euris etc. (384-5)

Like Dido, nec placidam membris potuit dare cura quietem decidit in lectum, verum nec lumina clausit, nunc latus in dextrum fultus nunc inque sinistrum, et veluti iaculo pectus tranfixus acuto palpitat atque caput hue et max iactitat illuc, et modo subrectus fulcro consederat amens. Nec iuvat hoc, demem surgens discurrit in urbe, atque thorum veniens simul attigit atque reliquit. Taliter insomnem consumpserat Attila noctem. (392-9)

The parallel with Dido is sustained.

In the whole of the passage discussed, I hope I have shown that Gaeraldus was capable o f using Virgil positively (in respect of the wedding that wasn’t) and abusing him positively (in using Dido’s anger and love­ sickness to describe Attila the morning after the night before). The incongruity o f the parallel would no doubt have appealed to his audience.

The next text I would like to discuss is the mid eleventh-century Ruodlieb. 3 After the Walthdrius this might appear a strange choice as its bizarre Latin rules out any obvious connection with Virgil. Moreover, as far as I know, no scholar has written o f Virgil’s influence on the text. Yet two factors suggest to me that the Ruodlieb might repay clos'e attention. Firstly is the difficulty scholars have in classifying it as a literary genre. It has variously been termed an epic, an epic o f chivalry, courtly novel, first German novel, fairy tale romance, heroic romance, didactic poem, and even an Icelandic saga. This inability to determine its nature reminds me of Propertius’ remark

Nescioquid maius nascitur Made (Eleg. II, 34, 66)

Secondly there is the fact that at the beginning o f the work the anonymous author quotes one line almost verbatim from Aeneid I which he follows immediately with a line made up from Virgilian phrases. They strike one not simply by their sound but by their contents and context.

The hero Ruodlieb deserts what appear to be his duties as leader of his familia and vassal to his feudal over­ lords. In a period o f strife he goes into exile. O ff goes Ruodlieb, leaving his mother the difficult task o f keeping the family estate intact against the attacks o f his enemies. The servants weep to see their lord and protector depart, but nevertheless go to try and console the mother in her grief

Detersis lacrimis qui tunc lotis faciebus consolaturi dominam subeunt cito cuncti quae simulando spem premit altum corde dolorem. Consolatur eos, male dum se cernit habere. (I 56-9) The line from Aeneid 1,209 spem vultu simulat, premit altum corde dolorem is here applied to Ruodlieb’s mother who has had to assume the role and responsibilities o f the leader. Meanwhile her son rides o ff

Non minor interea natum premit utique cura (I, 60) a line reminiscent o f Aeneas’ reply to Dido, when

curam sub corde premebat.

The mother is doing what she can to defend her son’s hoped-for inheritance. It is up to the son to show that he has earned the right to the inheritance. The parallel with the Aeneid is striking. Each hero leaves in order to discover in exile the right approach to life which will give him a seat in heaven. Jupiter’s prophecy in the Aeneid is paralleled by the dream in Ruodlieb. In each case the son’s place in heaven is revealed to his mother. i Exile for a knight in the later twelfth and thirteenth-century chivalric literature meant going to learn breeding and good manners. As examples one might cite Siegfried in the and o f course Tristan. Ruodlieb’s position, as a transitional type hero, is not so stereotyped. It has elements o f Aeneas still. To use the words o f another professor of Latin, “ How does the hero behave . . . This is the question which Virgil explores . . . finding no easy answer, but seeking to define, in one situation after another, what kind of behaviour seems appropriate for the prototype o f a ruler o f the Roman Empire.” 4 Ruodlieb has to learn to play his proper role in the newly-emerging society as a feudal lord while subduing his fault, namely the desire for riches. His materialistic nature is stated right at the beginning

Qui dominos plures habuisse datur locupletes, saepius ad libitum quibus is famulans et honorum nil deseruisse potuit, putat ut meruisse. (1,3-5)

And it is this which causes his troubles. As he goes into exile he ruminates on the problem o f getting money.

In order to learn how to be a lord Ruodlieb has to be ready to take advice from suitably qualified people about how to behave towards all classes o f society. He has no father Anchises on whom he can rely in periods o f stress; he has no matre dea monstrante viam nor does he follow any data fata. As he leaves his country he is met by the hunter o f the R ex Maior, king o f the neighbouring land. At first Ruodlieb acts haughtily, refusing to answer any o f the friendly questions put to him by the hunter, but when the latter convinces him that he wants to be helpful,

Utile consilium tibi tunc do, non renuendum (1 ,91), we see in Ruodlieb’s reply,

Consiliumque tuum non aestimo transgrediendum (I, 115), that he does have the makings o f a feudal lord. Contrast our first view o f Aeneas in the face o f the storm (92-101). That Ruodlieb still has a lot to learn is to be seen on his arrival at court. He forgets etiquette (or perhaps is too tight-fisted?) and fails to offer the R ex Maior a gift. His friend the hunter sees the faux pas and offers the king Ruodlieb’s hunting dog.

His prowess at court ensures his promotion to the rank o f leader o f the king’s army. He is a successful fighter, defeating the army o f the invading R ex Minor, and like Aeneas was ready to succumb to the desire for revenge. As he tells the captives he has taken

Ramo suspendi per suras sat meruisti (III, 5) but resists the temptation because

rex noster non ita iussit (III, 7)

Unlike Aeneas he still has his adviser near him at this crucial moment. To emphasise Ruodlieb’s act o f clemency, the author makes him repeat the actual words o f the R ex Maior ' Sis leo pugnando par ulciscendo sed agno. Non honor est vobis ulcisci damna doloris. Magnum vindictae genus est si parcitis irae. (Ill, 12-14)

Later, when reporting back to the R ex Maior Ruodlieb reiterates the point

Nam per contigua tibi quae sunt undique regna crederis esse leo vigilanti semper ocello; quin agnellina pietate tuaque sophia tu vincis melius gladius quam vincat alius (IV , 84-7)

Rex Maior’s treatment o f the captives goes far beyond the ideals o f Augustan . Not only does he parcere victis, he also enriches them and returns them to their own land better o ff than they were previously. Even the Christian doctrine o f turning the other cheek has been carried to a point that even Christ would have had difficulty in recognising. That the Emperor Henry Ill’s Act o f Indulgence, promulgated in 1041, had a lot to do with the sentiments expressed in this passage is undeniable, but so too, it seems to me, is the author’s intention to show that Aeneas’ failing could be overcome. The episode is returned to in Fragment V, 60-70, and in case Ruodlieb should forget, a similar piece o f advice is given him in the twelve precepts of wisdom offered by the Rex Maior when he leaves the court to return home. ♦ Nulla repentina tibi tam gravis ingruat ira quin pernoctare vindictam perpetiare (V , 498-9)

However, if Ruodlieb is able to learn how to dominate his anger, he is still a long way from overcoming his crass materialism. In his role as ambassador Ruodlieb gratefully received gifts from the R ex Minor, from his prime-minister too, and even gambled at chess in the best possible manner, i.e. his opponents paying his stakes as well as their own, with him pocketing the money each time he won. As the R ex Maior remarks on hearing the story o f the chess games

Hunc ludum tibi censeo semper amandum quo sunt sarcita tua tam bene calciamenta. (IV , 228-30) Nunc grates habeas, causas quod agis bene nostras. Nostras is emphatic. Ruodlieb is doing the king’s business well, but he is not managing at the same time to sort out his own problem.

The long fifth fragment keeps this problem clearly in our sight. A t the signing o f the peace treaty the defeated R ex M inor wants to lavish gifts on the R ex Maior and on all groups o f his people, with special attention being paid to the ambassador Ruodlieb. The R ex Maior refuses to allow the Rex M inor to impoverish himself in this way, accepting only a couple o f dancing bears and talking birds for his daughter. He permits the R ex M inor to make donations to the monasteries as this act would be good for his soul. Ruodlieb gets nothing. At the conclusion o f the signing a messenger brings a letter from Ruodlieb’s mother in which it is stated that all his old enemies have died or been so badly mutilated in the ten years he has been absent that he need no longer fear them. He can return home in safety. On learning this the lower classes start to voice their opinions

Dicunt quid mirum, sibi si nunc est onerosum nil deseruisse ni pauper vivere posse, victum vel vestem, nullum plus emolumentum huius cum regni columen speciale sit omnis. (V , 274-7)

The Rex Maior would appear to be influenced by this. He agrees to let Ruodlieb go, asking only a week’s notice. noli prius ire quam pertractemus quid mercedis tibi demus. Nobis servisti quam devotissime scisti; non oblivisci decet id nos sed reminisci, et tibi prodesse te saepe neci tribuisse pro me pro populo pro cuncto denique regno. (V, 295-300)

O f course, Ruodlieb is delighted that the king is going to reward him for his service, though he goes through the expected motions of refusing to entertain the thought o f being rewarded. It was reward enough simply to have served

Pascha fuit tecum mihi semper cottidianum (V , 305)

In the ensuing week the Rex Maior has secretly made two hollow loaves o f bread which are then stuffed with jewels. These jewels are discussed at great length for they are important. They are Aeneas’ shield! It is the eventual sight o f these that will push Ruodlieb on to his end, but unlike Aeneas Ruodlieb will not be the instrument o f something great. At the end o f the week the Rex Maior calls Ruodlieb to him, thanks him for his service and says

nunc mihi die verum, carissime cuntigenorum, praemia dem tibi pecunia, malisne sophia? (V ,422-3)

Ruodlieb is now in an awkward situation. He wants money, but the king will not be happy if that is what he chooses.

Is reputans mente sibi quid respondeat apte (V , 424)

“ Turning over in his mind what he ought to reply” and he chooses wisdom.

“non cupio quod” ait “conponderat usus honori (V , 425) est melius censu careat quis quam quoque sensu, et quicumque pia satagit florere sophia ille vel argenti semper sat habebit et auri. (V, 430-2) non volo pecuniam, sitio gustare sophiam. ” (V , 445)

The wisdom is in the form o f twelve precepts that Ruodlieb is to follow when he is away from his mentor. With the fragmentary text we possess it is impossible to determine how many o f these twelve precepts are exemplified in the situations that ensue, but it is safe to say that more than the usually agreed first three are illustrated. The eighth precept o f not striking in anger was obviously obeyed in the incident o f the. stealing o f Ruodlieb’s cloak. We can therefore deduce that this fault in Aeneas’ character has been well and truly eradicated by Ruodlieb, since he does not succumb to anger even in the absence o f his mentor. The seventh precept about not taking a wife unless known to him and suggested by his mother is also shown, and in Virgilian fashion, foreshadowed. Along with these twelve precepts Ruodlieb had been given the two loaves o f bread stuffed with jewels, and a final piece o f advice: “ Cut open the first when you are with your mother but keep the second for your wedding.” In fact, after cutting open the first loaf in his mother’s company, he cannot refrain from opening the second. This surely is an inauspicious foreboding o f his future would-be wedding. One recalls that Aeneas gave Dido a “ loaded” gift, the dress that Helen brought for her inconcessos hymenaeos. Consequently, when the seventh precept is disobeyed by Ruodlieb’s choice o f a fiancee suggested by his kinsmen, we are not surprised to learn that the intended marriage does not take place. Ruodlieb has obeyed all the precepts except this one in which the question o f money reared its ugly head. He is not yet perfect, and his petty treatment of his fiancee merely emphasises the point.

Unfortunately we do not have the end o f the work but we are probably safe in assuming the conclusion. Ruodlieb’s mother has a dream which tells her that he will achieve riches and honor. As our last fragment breaks o ff Ruodlieb has defeated a dwarf who will take him to the treasure o f two kings which he will obtain through the daughter of one o f them

Est tibi lucranda, sed non sine sanguine magno (X V III, 12) Prophetic dreams in Germanic epic (e.g. Waltharius, Nibelungenlied) are true indicators o f future events so we can expect a triumphant Ruodlieb at the end. Should we have any doubts we can refer again to the Aeneid for there is an obvious parallel here, that o f Aeneas and Lavinia.

My argument is this. Just as Virgil realised that a new type o f leader was needed to be in charge o f Rome, that the old-fashioned Achilles-type individual should make way for the socially-minded Aeneas-type, the author o f the Ruodlieb was aware o f the changing nature o f European society. The Waltharius or hero was an anachronism. The new hero needed to have courtly pretensions. Blood feuds could only destroy society. Fired with enthusiasm by the ideas of the emperor Henry III to pacify the realm by urging forgiveness to all feuders, the author felt, unlike Virgil previously, that this was a possible aim. But like Virgil he realised that man is not perfect and cannot be. In Ruodlieb’s case his fault is one the author felt to be inherent in the courtly system, as several o f his editorial remarks about courtiers and money reveal. That fault is monetary greed. And just as Aeneas’ final lapse in killing Turnus will not debar him from his place in Jupiter’s heaven, Ruodlieb’s greed will not prevent him from entering God’s heaven. If it did then no man would ever see God. The Christian author not only presents the view that we can be among the elect even though we are not perfect, but goes even further than Virgil in this type o f thinking. The idealised Christian king R ex Maior does not impose his religion on the defeated moslem Rex Minor. There is no question o f making the whole world better by the creation o f a Christian empire, as the Romans and Virgil obviously felt would be the case with a Roman empire. Moreover, the author even transcends the Church’s (and dare one say Christ’s) teaching, by suggesting that by doing good deeds even Moslems can find grace in God’s eyes and hope to reach heaven without changing their religion. This brave, unorthodox view shows a degree o f religious tolerance unique in the eleventh century. The more orthodox view o f the bigoted nedieval world is o f course expressed in the French epic La Chanson de Roland “ Christians are right, Moslems are wrong” .

My final section refers to the negative abuse o f Virgil, and paradoxically it is on Virgil’s own ground, the Trojan War. As the twelfth century drew on, the Trojan War theme took on more and more importance as this “ renaissance” drew extensively on the classical past. Virgil had to take a smaller part in the transmission o f the story as other writers were read and studied. An added interest, which proved to be decisive in the downgrading o f Virgil, was the emergence o f nationalistic feelings in England and Germany. In England Henry II had managed to form the first modern state with a highly trained, efficient central government, while in Germany the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa looked as though he had at long last succeeded in uniting most o f the country. Each ruler felt the importance o f his country and strongly resisted the attempts o f the Roman Church to appoint the senior clergy. This was seen as unpermissible interference in internal affairs by an external power. The various struggles and disputes strengthened the feelings o f national identity and engendered an anti-Italian attitude. One o f the most remarkable manifestations o f this is to be found in the treatment o f the Trojan War theme. From as early as the sixth century the believed themselves to be descended from the eponymous Trojan hero Francus. Later the Germans invented their eponymous Trojan hero Allemanus, and in the early years o f the twelfth century Geoffrey o f Monmouth popularised the British one, Aeneas’ grandson Brutus. The pope, being Italian, had his ancestry written up, so to speak, in Virgil’s Aeneid. The other countries were not so fortunate. This does not appear to have worried Barbarossa, but it did the English king. Henry’s interest in history and genealogy was catalysed by Geoffrey’s History o f the British Kings and it inspired him to persuade various writers to give him a complete genealogical tree in epic form, in Latin and in the vernacular, to counteract the Aeneid. Various writers were engaged for the various periods to be covered. It was to Joseph o f Exeter, nephew o f Baldwin, Archbishop o f Canterbury, that fell the job o f writing the Trojan War epic in Latin. Obviously he could not use Virgil as his source. Equally he had to decry Virgil’s version. The result is clearly stated at the outset of Joseph’s work.5

Meoniumne senem mirer latiumne Maronem an vatem Phrygium martem cui certior index explicuit presens oculus quem fabula nescit. mens conscia veri proscripsit longe ludentem ficta poetam. (1 ,24-26)

The source material was Dares Phrygius’ historical account, the one used by Joseph’s vernacular counterpart at the court, Benoit de Ste Maure for his Roman de Troie. This version puts forward the view that Aeneas was a traitor who let the Greeks into Troy in return for the safety o f his family. Benoit had inadvertently (or possibly intentionally) put a further nail in Virgil’s temporary coffin. In an effort to bring love to the forefront in keeping with the interests o f the female members o f the court, he had devoted many o f the 33,000 lines to Troilus and Cressida, the love-affair which was later to inspire Chaucer and Shakespeare to write versions o f it. Dares also gave rise to an epic in Germany in the thirteenth century, Albert o f Stade’s Troilus. Like the authors at the court o f Henry II, he leaves us in no doubt about his feelings:

Hanc quoque materiam figmenta poetica nebant sicut Virgilius arma virumque canens. 6 spelling out for us the message adumbrated in an earlier, twelfth-century anonymous German Latin poem, known as Dares Metricus Historiam Troye figmenta poetica turbant. 7

On the whole, however, Germans were to use as source material the anonymous Excidium Troie which has as the hero. In both cases the choice was a deliberate political one, one which excluded Virgil because he was Italian. He was not to return from the epic wilderness for many a year to comc.

NOTES

1 Quoted by D. Comparetti in ‘Virgil in the Middle Ages’ , 19292, intro.

2. Waltharius, ed. K. Strecker, 1951.

3. Ruodlieb, ed. E. Zeydel, 1958.

4. R.D. Williams, Aeneas and the Roman Hero, 1973, p.49.

5. Joseph Iscanus, Werke und Briefe, ed. L. Gompf, 1970.

6 . Troilus Alberti Stadensis, ed. T. Merzdorf, 1875, accessus

1. Anonymi Historia Troyarm Daretis Frigii, ed. J. Stohlmann, 1968, line 1.