ROMANCES COPIED BY THE LUDLOW SCRIBE: PURGATOIRE SAINT PATRICE, SHORT METRICAL CHRONICLE, FOUKE LE FITZ WARYN, AND KING HORN

A dissertation submitted to Kent State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

by

Catherine A. Rock

May 2008

Dissertation written by Catherine A. Rock B. A., University of Akron, 1981 B. A., University of Akron, 1982 B. M., University of Akron, 1982 M. I. B. S., University of South Carolina, 1988 M. A. Kent State University, 1991 M. A. Kent State University, 1998 Ph. D., Kent State University, 2008

Approved by

______, Chair, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Susanna Fein ______, Members, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Don-John Dugas ______Kristen Figg ______David Raybin ______Isolde Thyret

Accepted by

______, Chair, Department of English Ronald J. Corthell ______, Dean, College of Arts and Sciences Jerry Feezel

ii TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS………………………………………………………………viii

Chapter I. Introduction ...... 1

Significance of the Topic…………………………………………………..2 Survey of the State of the Field……………………………………………5

Manuscript Studies: 13th-14th C. England………………………...5 Scribal Studies: 13th-14th C. England……………………………13 The Ludlow Scribe of Harley 2253……………………………...19 British Library MS Harley 273…………………………………..26 British Library MS Royal 12.C.XII…………………………….. 28 British Library MS Harley 2253…………………………………31

Approach/Method………………………………………………………..39

II. Editorial and Critical Histories of the Four Romances…………………..44

Purgatoire s. Patrice……………………………………………………..44 Short Metrical Chronicle………………………………………………...50 Fouke le Fitz Waryn……………………………………………………...55 King Horn………………………………………………………………..58 Conclusion……………………………………………………………… 63

III. Purgatoire s. Patrice……………………………………………………..66

Synopsis………………………………………………………………….66 Transmission History…………………………………………………… 70 Structure and Argument………………………………………………… 85 Genre/Type of Romance…………………………………………………90 Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness……………………………………..95 Bibliography of Versions of This Text…………………………………112

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles…………………112 Secondary Sources…………………………………………… 113

iii IV. Short Metrical Chronicle………………………………………………..120

Synopsis………………………………………………………………...121 Transmission History…………………………………………………...123 Structure and Argument……………………………………………….. 136 Genre of Romance……………………………………………………...146 Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness……………………………………150 Bibliography of Versions of This Text…………………………………164

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles…………………164 Secondary Sources……………………………………………...165

V. Fouke le Fitz Waryn…………………………………………………….172

Synopsis………………………………………………………………...172 Transmission History…………………………………………………...177 Structure and Argument……………………………………………….. 190 Genre of Romance……………………………………………………...198 Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness……………………………………208 Bibliography of Versions of This Text…………………………………215

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles…………………215 Secondary Sources……………………………………………...216

VI. King Horn………………………………………………………………225

Synopsis………………………………………………………………...225 Transmission History………………………………………………….. 231 Structure and Argument……………………………………………….. 242 Genre of Romance……………………………………………………...252 Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness……………………………………256 Bibliography of Versions of This Text…………………………………266

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles…………………266 Secondary Sources…………………………………………….. 268

VII. The Organizational Methodology of the Ludlow Scribe of Harley 2253……………...……………………………………….273

The Scribe and His Books……………………………………………...274

British Library MS Harley 273…………………………………275 British Library MS Royal 12.C.XII…………………………….277 British Library MS Harley 2253………………………………..278 iv

Common Elements and Major Topics of the Four Romances..…..…….281

Romance Elements……………………………………………...281 Subjects of Law, History, Politics, and Science…….………….284 The Extraordinary Case of the Short Metrical Chronicle and Fouke le Fitz Waryn……………………..…..289

The Influence of the Ludlow Scribe……………………………………294

Relationship of the Romances to the Auchinleck Manuscript……………………………………...295 The Scribe as a Collector of Narratives………………………...297

Conclusions……………………………………………………………..305

WORKS CITED………………………………………………………………………..310

Manuscripts……………………………………………………………………..310 Primary Sources………………………………………………………………...310 Secondary Sources……………………………………………………………...317

v LIST OF FIGURES

Fig. 1 The Classes and Versions of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii …………………………………………………………………...76

Fig. 2 Matheson’s Classification of the Various Versions of the Prose Brut ...... 125

Fig. 3 Zettl’s Relationships Among the Manuscripts of the Short Metrical Chronicle …………………………………………………………………….133

Fig. 4 Hall’s Schema of the Relationship of the Manuscripts of King Horn ……………………………………………………………………...235

Fig. 5 Comparison of the L, C, and O Manuscripts of King Horn…………………….258

vi LIST OF TABLES

Table 1 Selected Romances and Narratives in Harley 273 and Royal 12.C.XII………………………………………………………………..299

Table 2 Selected Romances and Narratives in Harley 2253, Copied by the Scribe ca. 1340-42……………………………………………..300

vii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to thank my dissertation director, Susanna Fein, for her enthusiasm and her meticulous attention to my work. I first met her many years ago when I prepared to begin a master’s thesis in medieval French literature and suddenly found myself without a director. I presented myself at her office door in the English Department, told her my situation, and asked for help. She and David Raybin of Eastern Illinois University guided that French thesis, which would have been impossible without their help. When I began studies later in English, I did so with the intention of working with Susanna Fein.

Through her work on MS Harley 2253 I was introduced to the Ludlow scribe, and I found her passion for the subject contagious. I was extremely fortunate that her expertise, among that of others on my committee, allowed me to continue to work in medieval

French as well as Middle English. Her guidance was exactly the sort I needed to give my best; her comments and suggestions were lucid and logical, as well as timely.

I would like to thank the rest of my committee, as well. Again, David Raybin served as one of my readers, bringing his background in comparative literature. My individual investigation in Anglo-Norman Literature with Kristen Figg was invaluable, as was her expertise as a member of the committee. Don-John Dugas, historian Isolde

Thyret, and Jennifer Larson, the Graduate Faculty Representative from Modern and

Classical Language Studies, all offered valuable suggestions.

viii Carter Revard deserves special thanks. He generously shared his work with me,

answering my questions at length and taking the time to track me down in The British

Library to introduce himself when he knew I was working there. His dating of the

scribe’s handwriting, through paleographic analysis of over forty charters in his hand, has

proven invaluable to this study.

A number of libraries and librarians provided useful assistance. Many thanks to

The British Library for allowing me access to the priceless manuscripts I needed to

complete my work. Thanks, too, to the Interlibrary Loan librarians at Kent State

University and the Kent State-Stark campus for hunting down obscure tomes on my behalf. Also, I express my gratitude to the tireless librarians and student assistants at the

Kent-Stark Learning Resource Center for cheerfully checking in and checking out twenty, forty, or fifty books at a time, and for their interest and encouragement.

I am grateful to the members of the Early Book Society who commented on my paper about Fouke le Fitz Waryn and the Ludlow scribe at the Society’s tenth biennial conference at the University of Salford and Chetham’s Library, Manchester, in July,

2007.

For miscellaneous assistance, several people should also be recognized. Dawn

Lashua, Graduate Secretary in the Kent State University English Department, always had the answers and a kind word when I was frustrated and at a loss for how to navigate the many requirements of the university and the doctoral program. She is a treasure. David

J. White of Baylor University gave me help in Latin, and Linda Morosko of Stark State

College of Technology provided computer assistance. My Alsatian cousin, linguist

ix Pierre Balliet, generously tracked down books I requested from him over the years, while

my neighbor Vester Morrison provided a mental boost, often expressing his confidence in

me.

Several professors, now retired, influenced my life and work in many ways. The late Russell Weingartner of The University of Akron first introduced me to the delights of medieval French literature many years ago, while UA music historian and organist Farley

Hutchins showed by example what it is to be a polymath. Shirley Kuiper, Distinguished

Professor Emerita of the Management Department, University of South Carolina, has been, in the twenty years since I served as her graduate assistant, a role model and a friend.

My friends and colleagues at Stark State College of Technology have also provided moral support over these past several years. Marie Cox usefully reminded me periodically to take time for myself. I thank Tom O’Brien for fighting the good fight, and

Marie Stokes for understanding. My former office mate, chemist Amy Jo Sanders, was a calming influence as my life went through a number of major disruptive events a year before this work was completed, and Linda Spurlock reminded me constantly to keep things in perspective, telling me how she kept her sanity while writing her dissertation:

“When I felt like baking, I baked!” Lada Gibson-Shreve’s wise words were always helpful. Connie Faust has ever been encouraging, and although English is not her field, she has continually been interested in my work, allowing me to bounce ideas off her and often asking incisive questions. SSCT President John O’Donnell and Vice President Para

Jones both encouraged me in what was often a difficult venture.

x To the many residents of Ludlow who strive continually to keep the history of

their lovely town alive, I likewise express my gratitude. The people I met during my

brief stay in Ludlow, from the seller of prints in the market to the purveyor of hardware

for period homes, were delighted to tell me about the town’s history. I would especially

like to thank Howard Cheese of the Ludlow Museum, and Pamela Aitken of Friends of

St. Leonard’s Churchyard, for enlightening discussions. Although I have not had the

privilege of meeting him, I must also recognize David Lloyd, who has done much to

publicize the history of Ludlow.

Finally, I must thank my parents, Allen and the late Betty Watson, for allowing

me to indulge in a plethora of interests over the course of my life, and to my husband

Brian, the rocket scientist, who put up with my complaining and my constant work for

several years. Without their patience and encouragement, this dissertation would have

been infinitely more difficult than it was.

xi CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

The purpose of this dissertation is to review and analyze four romances found in the books of the Ludlow scribe of MS Harley 2253, written or copied in his own hand

approximately 1314–42, a period encompassing the greater part of his known scrivening

career. These romances are found in three British Library manuscripts: in Harley 273,

the Purgatoire s. Patrice; in Royal 12.C.XII, the Short Metrical Chronicle and Fouke le

Fitz Waryn; and in Harley 2253, King Horn. The work I am doing lies in the realm of textual studies, and particularly scribal studies. I will be conducting literary analysis based in descriptive bibliography and literary forensics, as well as integrating my findings with traditional interpretation. I am assessing each text in terms of its content as well as its medieval survivals in manuscripts, across languages. The point of this effort in literary history is to assess the circulation of texts, the ways in which they came into the hands of a particular scribe, what might have interested him enough to copy them, and what changes he might have made to them so as to please himself and an audience that I am trying to reconstruct so far as the evidence allows. My larger purpose is to add to the mapping of significant Middle English and Anglo-Norman scribes, an endeavor that is of high current scholarly interest and activity.

1 2

Significance of the Topic

The Ludlow scribe was responsible for compiling and in large part copying

Harley 2253, which is, along with the Auchinleck manuscript, arguably one of the most important manuscripts of Middle English secular literature. Although his name is not known, we do know that the scribe’s activity as a legal and literary scrivener took place in and around Ludlow, Shropshire, an English town near the Welsh border in the West

Midlands (Revard, “Scribe” 21). One of the romances, Fouke le Fitz Waryn, is set in this geographical area and concerns, in part, local history. To judge from what he copied, the scribe sought to educate and delight an undetermined audience by means of a combination of history and entertaining stories on both religious and secular subjects.

His audience seems to have occupied the upper classes, perhaps the nobility, as we see from his taste for chivalry throughout the romances, although he was not averse to occasional appearances of low humor.

The scribe did not simply copy texts, however, but worked with them in various ways. He was a compiler, acquiring texts, copying others, and determining how best to arrange them within his manuscripts. Sometimes he altered his received texts, correcting misinformation and adding explanations to make the text more logical and more easily understood by the reader. In the case of Fouke le Fitz Waryn, scholars are virtually certain that the scribe composed his text, changing it from Anglo-Norman verse to

Anglo-Norman prose. He also very likely authored the translation of the French Bible stories that appear in Harley 2253. Although most of the texts he copied are anonymous, the scribe fulfills, to some extent, the author-function. According to Michel Foucault, 3

“the ‘author-function’ is not universal or constant in all discourse,” and texts “have not always required authors” (306). The Ludlow scribe collected and preserved literature, copying it and sometimes adding or removing details, sometimes translating it; he prepared his copies with an awareness of his audience, arranging the individual works and deciding which works should appear in which of his three existing books and in what order. His role, then, varies greatly, but is crucial to this study. In the words of Foucault, we as readers construct the author according to “the comparisons we make, the traits we extract as pertinent, the continuities we assign, or the exclusions we practice” (307). The

Ludlow scribe worked not only with literature in the manuscripts and with legal documents in his presumed career, but also with such widely varied texts as religious works and recipes. From these assorted works, but chiefly the four romances, I am attempting, in part, to construct not the author, but the author-function. In other words I am endeavoring to discover exactly what role a scribe could play and how the scribal role could, in this case, help us understand a medieval literary process that is very different from modern ideas of authorship.

The scribe’s interests were eclectic; he copied texts in a number of genres and forms, and in the languages of Medieval Latin, Anglo-Norman French, and Middle

English. This dissertation will consider four of his long narratives that can be considered romances in two of these languages, French and English. Susan Crane, one of the foremost scholars in the field of Anglo-Norman and Middle English romance, herself avoids “a single generic definition of romance,” asserting that even the poets did not

“restrict the term roman/romaunce to one set of characteristics,” and finally concluding 4

that, “broadly speaking, medieval romances are secular fictions of nobility” presenting

“stress and harmony between hero and world” where “private identity exists somehow above and apart from collective life” (Insular 10–11). Unlike the medieval French romances of love, these are stories of adventure: the Irish knight Owein travels through

Purgatory, observing souls in torment; kings throughout history win battles and challengers overcome kings to gain the crown of England; Fouke le Fitz Waryn slays dragons and battles King John’s men; and King Horn wins a wife and regains both his and his wife’s kingdoms. Two of these romances, the Purgatoire s. Patrice and Fouke le

Fitz Waryn, are in Anglo-Norman, the former in metrical couplets, the latter in prose.

The other two, the Short Metrical Chronicle and King Horn, are in Middle English verse, also in couplets. These four works were copied by the scribe himself. He (or his hypothetical patron) felt strongly enough about these works to make the decision to copy them, a time-consuming and demanding job, but one that gives us concrete proof of the scribe’s personal involvement with the texts.

The four romances are found in three manuscripts located today in the British

Library, London. Of these, Harley 2253 is by far the best known and is also the one that contains the largest number of pages copied by the scribe. The scribe is of exceptional interest in the fields of Middle English and Anglo-Norman literature because he demonstrates a particular intelligence and facility in the selection and arrangement of the literary works he included in Harley 2253. He was apparently widely read, and a collector of texts. Harley 2253 is a trilingual miscellany; that is, in this case, a book in

Middle English, Anglo-Norman French, and Medieval Latin, comprised of both sacred 5

and secular works ranging from devotional works and saints’ lives to love lyrics and fabliaux that are profane in the extreme. The scribe also apparently owned the two other manuscripts, Royal 12.C.XII and Harley 273, for they contain his hand in works copied over many years’ time. Royal is also a trilingual miscellany, while Harley 273 is largely in Anglo-Norman French. The scribe wrote predominantly in an anglicana script

(O’Rourke 57), occasionally using textura to highlight particular items in his text (Ker xviii). He was not a full-time literary scribe, but seems to have worked on literary texts while also working as a legal scribe. These three books, which comprise what scholars know of the scribe’s “library,” reveal the interests of an intelligent, educated man from the Ludlow area in the early- to mid-fourteenth century.

I will begin my examination of the scribe and his works with a survey of the literature to date concerning the general fields of manuscript studies and scribal studies in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century England, followed by the more specific areas of research on the Ludlow scribe in particular. The next chapter continues with a survey of literature concerning each of the three manuscripts associated with this man.

Survey of the State of the Field

Manuscript Studies: 13th–14th C. England

Much of the work in the field of manuscript studies in the past thirty years has

consisted of articles that examine one or two manuscripts and use them to argue a

specific point. There are, however, also articles and books of a more general nature, such

as the useful one by George Kane, in which he details a number of problems that editors 6

have (or cause) in preparing editions of works from manuscripts. Although the emphasis is on editing, many of the problems are similar to those that scholars encounter when studying the manuscripts themselves. Among the major problems Kane cites are inaccurate scribal transcription of texts due to carelessness, unfamiliarity with the language, and lack of other copies for comparison. Editors themselves cause problems by selecting spellings or variants from texts other than the primary text and not stating that fact in their editions, or by silently regularizing a manuscript’s spellings.

In 1979, M. T. Clanchy considered the entire issue of manuscript culture, literacy, and orality in From Memory to Written Record: England, 1066–1307. In this important work, Clanchy traces the development of writing and the culture of literacy among the laity that grew up in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and was in place by the fourteenth century: “An educated Englishman in the thirteenth century . . . would have become familiar with a variety of writing over his lifetime—charters to safeguard his landed property, royal writs for litigation, homilies for devotion, romances for entertainment, and so on” (60). By the early fourteenth century, he argues, even serfs appreciated the written word and “used charters for conveying property to each other”

(2). People who had books tended to have only a few because of their high cost. This cost, however, was due to the scribe’s labor rather than to the cost of the animal skins.

Records from the late thirteenth century “suggest that even the finest parchment was cheaper than the scribe’s time” (94). By about 1300, books were becoming smaller and thus portable for the use of students and private readers (105). 7

Since the 1980s a number of conferences in the field of English literary manuscript studies have been held and their proceedings subsequently published. One of the major such conferences is at the University of York, which has yielded several volumes of proceedings over the years. Dating from the 1985 conference, Diana Wyatt’s useful paper, “Editing for REED,” points out some of the problems involved in preparing transcriptions of early drama for publication by Records of Early English Drama. Since drama often fell under the purview of the guilds, many of the manuscripts were neither copied nor kept with care. They have to be located, often among civic records, before they can be edited. Often only one manuscript is available for the editor, and in it the text is “set down by sometimes semi-skilled local scribes using inconsistent letter forms and idiosyncratic (and also probably inconsistent) abbreviations, determined—or forced—to write in Latin but somewhat hampered by ignorance of the language, which they often seem to have made up as they went along” (162). Studies such as Wyatt’s shed light on the often immense difficulties faced by editors and scholars of manuscript texts.

A common theme in manuscript studies continues to be the difficulties involved in classification of various sorts. Tim William Machan declares that determining authorship of a particular text is often difficult: “In fact scholars can identify the same scribal hand with more certainty than the same authorial voice” (4). In 1993, a conference was held at the University of Pennsylvania specifically to explore “the nature and usefulness of the concept ‘miscellany’” (Nichols and Wenzel 3). The proceedings were published in 1996 as The Whole Book: Cultural Perspectives on the Medieval

Miscellany. In a concluding essay, James J. O’Donnell declares: “The failures to classify 8

that were brought together in these studies are implicit criticisms of our ability to classify, and in seeking the principles of order that animate these books, we find instructive revision to our instinctive habits of classification” (169). These “habits of classification,” he explains, are a modern development: “To sell a book, you must make clear to your buyer what the book is” (170). To the medieval reader, there was no such expectation; medieval books, often miscellaneous in their contents, frequently crossed what we think are the boundaries between genres. In this way, one book could serve as a library in itself.

Scholars have found it difficult to reconstruct dispersed medieval libraries and determine the fate of medieval books. Two essay in James P. Carley and Colin G. C.

Tite’s 1997 Books and Collectors, 1200–1700: Essays Presented to Andrew Watson, examine the problem. Christopher de Hamel, in “The Dispersal of the Library of Christ

Church, Canterbury, from the Fourteenth to the Sixteenth Century,” tells of the interesting case of this monastic library. It had difficulty keeping track of its manuscripts; an inventory of 1337–38 records “a total of some ninety-three books then missing or out on loan or unaccounted for, of which thirty-eight were in the hands of monks, another thirty-eight had been lent to monks who were now dead, and seventeen had been lent to people outside the abbey” (264). When Canterbury College was established at Oxford in the fourteenth century, Christ Church sent a number of manuscripts to the College for the use of its monks (264). Over the years, as university educations became more popular than what could be had at Christ Church, more and more students and manuscripts traveled from Canterbury to Oxford, but few of the books 9

returned, so that “perhaps as much as half of the Christ Church library was actually lost to Oxford through the good intentions of the monks long before the Reformation” (266–

67). The Priory of Christ Church was suppressed in 1540, and Canterbury College was dissolved in 1545, so at that point there was no place to return the manuscripts had the scholars wished to do so. The manuscripts simply vanished, though some pages were later found in Oxford bookbindings (267–69). Rodney Thomson writes of another situation, the attempt to locate books formerly belonging to Gloucester Abbey. Although book production at the abbey was highest in the twelfth century, the books were heavily used throughout the following century as well (4). Many of these books, too, were lost in the dissolution of the monasteries. In modern times scholars began trying to locate these lost books. When enough manuscripts traceable to Gloucester Abbey were found, “the typical characteristics of books made at the abbey beg[a]n to emerge, and this . . . enabled the plausible attribution of another handful of books” (5), and so the process continues.

Because the manuscripts tend not to be marked as belonging to the abbey, determining their origin is often difficult, and researchers rely on the contents (calendars and dated events, for example) or paleography. These articles by de Hamel and Thomson show, in part, what hardships the dissolution caused for scholars, and how difficult it is to track down the books that were lost so long ago. In this context, it is remarkable that we have identified three manuscripts belonging to the library of the Ludlow scribe.

The physical divisions of manuscripts such as those of the Ludlow scribe, the difficulties in locating and editing texts, and the advantages digitization provides for the study of manuscript texts are also topics of current interest to scholars. Another 10

conference at Harvard in 1998 led to the publication in 2000 of Derek Pearsall’s New

Directions in Later Medieval Manuscript Studies, in which these issues are discussed. J.

P. Gumbert’s “Skins, Sheets and Quires” is a detailed and informative discussion of the size of skins, their folding and cutting, as well as the ordering of bifolia. He concludes that “until at least the ninth century, skins were normally not divided into bifolia by folding, but by cutting out sections of the desired size in any way that would fit” (86).

Until the twelfth century, he claims (admittedly without proof) that the cut bifolia were fixed into place within a quire by using tackets (87). In the thirteenth century, “people first began to work in untacketed quires,” a method that seems to have continued throughout the Middle Ages (89–90). Similar to Wyatt’s article describing the difficulties of finding and editing texts for REED, Julia Boffey’s essay explains that

Middle English verse turns up periodically in unlikely places like record offices. Often a poem is found on one sheet slipped into a manuscript or a sheaf of papers and subsequently forgotten. The difficulty in finding these poems is that their locations are completely unpredictable. Because the Ludlow scribe copied legal documents, a search of record offices has turned up a number of charters in his hand, but thus far, no literature. Finally, the future of manuscript study is considered by Martha W. Driver.

Many libraries, she writes, are beginning to put digital images of their manuscripts on the internet; the electronic Beowulf is one such example. Search engines allow quick searches for manuscripts. One of the most important technology-based ventures is the

Canterbury Tales Project, the goal of which is “to make available all manuscript and early printed witnesses of the Canterbury Tales on CD-ROM, presenting images of every 11

pre-1500 text and including transcriptions, collations and descriptions of each manuscript and imprint” (59). These tools serve both scholars with no access to the actual manuscripts and classes of students studying the literature. The Auchinleck manuscript is currently available online, and it is no doubt only a matter of time before Harley 2253 is also available.

The application of modern computer technology to making manuscripts more accessible continues to be a popular topic. William Schipper shows dramatically how the

“unreadable” writing on manuscripts can sometimes be recovered by means of digital photography and the use of “off-the-shelf software [Adobe Photoshop]” (161). Attempts to gain the same results by traditional photographic methods “would involve retaking photographs with a variety of lenses and exposures, under various forms of lighting, and possibly trying various tricks in the dark room,” while photoediting requires only one photograph and is consequently much less costly to perform (161–62). The text Schipper uses to demonstrate the technology is that of Cyprian’s letters found in the late fourth- century British Library MS Additional 40165A, “the oldest surviving Latin manuscript in the British Library and the earliest extant copy of Cyprian’s letters” (161). His results are clearly shown in a series of color plates. Also emphasizing the benefits of computer technology in the field of manuscript study, Stephen R. Reimer argues that a hypertext edition can do much to recontextualize a text, bringing it to life for new readers. The use of color, for example, is much less expensive on a computer screen than it is in a book. A computer can also provide a plethora of study aids, including illuminations from manuscripts, modern photographs of locales mentioned in the text, a concordance of the 12

text, and the ability to search the text instantly. These technologies are allowing scholars and readers to see manuscript texts in new ways. Computer software is allowing us to discover new layers of text that were previously invisible or indecipherable. In the future, such technology might allow us to gain new insight into the Ludlow scribe’s texts.

Hypertext editions are colorful and user-friendly, potentially attracting more readers to the field of manuscript study, and providing useful tools for those works selected for such treatment.

Finally, Stephen Kelly and John J. Thompson’s 2005 Imagining the Book is a wide-ranging collection of essays dealing with compilers, editors, patrons, collectors, and readers, as well as verbal and visual cultures. Wendy Scase’s essay reminds us that political poetry is sometimes found on the flyleaves of books, often written by someone other than the book’s scribe(s), and other times it is found on single sheets of vellum or in rolls. Much political verse is ephemeral, and it is, as several of the other authors discussed here have suggested, often a matter of luck when a new text is discovered

(“Imagining”). Since such verse was often not considered suitable for inclusion within the text of manuscripts, the Ludlow scribe’s incorporation of a number of political texts in his manuscripts is notable, preserving them, as it does, for later generations of readers.

Pearsall returns to another issue of importance to scholars of the scribe and his work, the perennial question of miscellanies versus anthologies, arguing that some critics try too hard to come up with unifying ideas in miscellanies, wanting to call them anthologies, but sometimes this simply cannot be done: “I would suggest . . . that the purposes that are descried in an anthology or anthology-booklet have to be specific, direct and fairly 13

obvious to the imagined contemporary reader—an interest in London history . . . a desire to establish a courtly poetic tradition, a programme of Christian hope, not bizarre incongruity, or ‘self-reflexiveness’, or the one and the many” (“The Whole” 21).

Sometimes, he says, the collection simply reflects the interests of a single compiler, and sometimes only some booklets or quires within the manuscript show a sense of organization. The anthology-versus-miscellany controversy continues to engage scholars of Harley 2253.

Manuscript studies is a very large field, although much of it is relatively new. A common theme in the books, book chapters, and articles discussed here is the difficulty in finding and editing some types of texts; another is classification. An optimistic note is, however, that technology is allowing scholars to make new discoveries, to see more clearly and to understand that which previously seemed confused. The internet and the

CD-ROM are making high-quality images available to people who would otherwise not have access to the actual books. With this ability comes the potential for yet more discoveries and connections to be made among manuscripts.

Scribal Studies: 13th–14th C. England

Like manuscript studies, scribal studies often deals with the problems inherent in

working with manuscripts. Scribal studies, however, seeks to discover the scribal habits

that led to these difficulties, as well as to classify, date, and localize the scripts used. H.

J. Chaytor, in his influential From Script to Print: An Introduction to Medieval

Vernacular Literature (1945), argues that the scribe looked at the page, then copied

neither from the memory of the words themselves nor from visual memory, but from 14

auditory memory; that is, the sound of the words, “and probably in many cases a memory of one word at a time.” This practice tended to cause the scribe to change the spelling of words, particularly when he copied from a dialect that was not his own (19–20). M. B.

Parkes, one of the preeminent paleographers of our time, published his authoritative

English Cursive Book Hands, 1250–1500 (1969), intended as “a teaching book” where

“the emphasis is entirely upon the major varieties of English cursive handwriting in this period, and the principal developments which took place in them” (vii). Cursive writing developed, he declares, partly because of increased demand for books and partly due to the demand for the copying of longer works. As a result, “textura” script gradually faded, and “smaller, simpler hands” developed that could be written quickly (xiii). Parkes’s book includes plates, usually two per page, notes, and transcriptions of the texts used as examples. The decline of textura is evidenced in the Ludlow scribe’s works by his predominant use of anglicana with only rare instances of textura script for emphasis.

Later writers on medieval bookmaking built on the important work of their predecessors. As a sort of “prequel” to Chaytor’s book, Clanchy’s From Memory to

Written Record appeared (1979). Clanchy states that scribes commonly took notes either on wax tablets or on pieces of parchment (92). Average standards of writing improved so that by the thirteenth century they were fairly good, “presumably,” writes Clanchy,

“because more clerks were getting an appropriate education” (102). He adds, however, that not all scribes were trained: “The commonest sign of an amateur writer is bad layout,

. . . as the clarity of the message conveyed by the script is enhanced or obscured by this”

(103). Interestingly, although the Ludlow scribe was an amateur, he is regarded for his 15

skillful page layout and his ability to maintain consistent, straight lines of text without ruling. With the advent of better modern print technology, paleographers have been able to publish clearer examples of scripts. One of the better books containing examples of scripts is that of Michelle P. Brown (A Guide, 1990), which contains many plates of manuscript pages, a brief description of general categories of scripts (Insular, Roman, and

Gothic, for instance), and of specific scripts from England and Europe.

Scholars of scribal studies are also interested in how and why scribes alter their texts. Nicholas Jacobs notes that scribes tend to simplify what they copy, resulting in what he terms “regression to the commonplace.” Jacobs argues that a scribe had one of four motives for making a particular alteration to the text. First, if the scribe completely misunderstands what he is copying, he could change it to something different. Second, if he more or less understands, he might decide to change it. Third, he might understand the text, but decide that it is too difficult for the reader, so he changes it. Finally, he might understand it, not thinking it particularly difficult, but he simply wishes to change it to something he likes better. The problem with these scribal changes is that they do not often constitute an improvement over the text of the exemplar. As Jacobs makes clear:

“To be a scribe is not a bar to poetic talent, but scribes are not selected for it, and a scribe who lacks it is likely, in improvising a substitution for something he cannot understand, to produce a trivial or unremarkable reading” (63–64). Machan remarks similarly that

“scribes could be quite willing to rewrite substantially the text they were copying, far more so, certainly, than even the earliest printers” (5). The Ludlow scribe often altered his texts, but in this way he was an exception to the general rule: his changes seem often 16

to have improved the texts. His verse is often more metrical than that found in other versions of these works, his descriptions more logical, and his history and geography more accurate, as I will demonstrate in later chapters.

Scribal hands continued to be of interest throughout the 1990s and to the present day. For those new to the study of manuscripts, Brown published what is essentially an illustrated dictionary containing detailed explanations and illuminations that serve as examples (Understanding, 1994). A fascinating and useful essay explaining and giving possible uses of an archaizing hand, defined as “one that attempts to imitate a script current at a date much earlier than that at which the scribe was writing” (101) was published by Parkes (1997). The use of archaizing hands—practiced from at least the eighth century until the invention of photography in the nineteenth century—sometimes makes it difficult for the scholar to date manuscripts. Most of these hands are discovered by their use of anachronism or anachronistic characteristics (101). Scribes sometimes used archaizing hands for legitimate purposes, sometimes not. For example, a scribe might use an archaizing hand to make a replacement page for an older document so the scripts would match. A scribe copying an older document might use an older style hand to give the copy more authority by making it match the time period in which the exemplar was written. Sometimes scribes thought that the older hands were more elegant than the newer, and sometimes, of course, they used these hands to make forgeries (103).

Interestingly, librarian Humphrey Wanley, cataloguer of Sir Robert Harley’s library– including both Harley 2253 and Harley 273–and “the greatest English paleographer,” according to Parkes, “produced some of the finest examples of facsimile script based on 17

imitation of medieval handwriting. . . . He realized [by 1705, at the latest,] that scholars needed to be able to date the contents of manuscript books within closer limits, and was the first to enunciate the principle of comparing the handwriting of undated manuscripts with that of dated and datable ones for this purpose” (127). In our day, photocopying and photography take the place of copying by hand in order to compare handwriting. A third volume by Brown briefly surveys the whole history of writing worldwide, including many examples. The book includes descriptions of the making of illuminated manuscripts and discussion and examples of the evolution of western scripts (British

Library, 1994).

Another of today’s leading paleographers is Linne R. Mooney, who in 2000 published a book chapter in which she considers the difficulty of connecting manuscripts by their scribal hands, a practice that began in the nineteenth century and that is crucial to the present study: “Comparison of scribal hands in years before photographs, or before microfilms and photocopies became readily available, depended upon a scholar’s memory, upon tracings or aides memoires unique to each scholar, or upon the coincidence of two or more manuscripts by a single hand surviving in one library” (133).

A vocabulary to describe hands was finally developed in the last half of the twentieth century (135). One of the greatest problems with identifying hands, says Mooney, is that sometimes inadequately trained scholars declare the existence of multiple hands where in fact only one exists, “sometimes where the change is simply due to a change of ink or sharpening of a pen that alters the general appearance of the script” (139). The solution to this problem, she proposes, is “an electronic archive of medieval and early modern 18

English scribal hands, which could be made accessible to all scholars through the world wide web. The archive would store digital images of scribal hands, with descriptions of the features by which each hand might be identified, written by experts in the field and keyed to the images by line, word, or graph.” Also, she says, a new vocabulary and schema are needed to describe hands of the same scribe across his use of various fonts

(140).

Until Mooney’s proposal becomes reality, we will have to rely upon such print sources as that published in 2005 by Jane Roberts. The purpose of the volume, Roberts says, is “to give an overview of the variety of scripts used in the recording of English literature up to and a little beyond the introduction of print” (1). It includes a discussion of the history of writing and scripts in England, as well as a large number of full-page plates, many of them in color, with transcription of the manuscripts’ texts and commentary.

Scribal studies have advanced over the years, but there remains much to do.

Numerous guides now show examples of various hands, so the vocabulary of paleography has become stable and consistent. One great problem remains the inability of many people to correctly determine whether texts are the work of one scribe or of several. This difficulty is partly due to the fact that most texts in their manuscript copies are not accessible outside their home libraries. Modern technology should eventually help in this area by allowing many texts to be digitized and posted on the internet or otherwise made available to scholars. This process may, however, be slow, as institutions are reluctant to have their manuscripts photographed, because they may 19

thereby potentially lose the revenue from selling microfilm or digitized copies of these texts.

The Ludlow Scribe of Harley 2253

Scholars have long been fascinated by the Ludlow scribe (or as some call him, the

Harley scribe), particularly because of his work as the probable compiler of British

Library MS Harley 2253. This interest has led to speculation and research concerning his location, his occupation, his interests, and his patron or patrons. Joseph Ritson (1802) was the first to connect the scribe to two manuscripts, writing of the Chronicle of

England, that is, the Short Metrical Chronicle, found in Royal 12.C.XII, “the hand is, apparently, that of a Norman-law-scribe, and bears the closeëst resemblance to that of the

Harleian MS. 2253, which contains King Horn, &c.” (3:339). Thomas Wright, one of the earliest editors of the lyrics of Harley 2253 (1842), was the first to propose that the scribe himself collected the lyrics (Specimens v). Based on local allusions in the manuscript,

Wright declared, “I feel inclined to conclude, that the Harleian manuscript . . . was written by some secular clerk connected with the priory of Leominster. Perhaps he was himself a poet, and was the author of the song containing the allusion to the river Wye

[Annot and John]” (vii). G. L. Brook praised the scribe’s work as compiler, while he denied the scribe’s possible authorship of the lyrics (1948); Brook concluded that it was impossible to attribute any two lyrics to the same author. He writes, “Like most Middle

English literature, they are anonymous, and they owe their inclusion in the manuscript to their having caught the fancy of a fourteenth-century anthologist. It is fortunate for us that his taste was so good, so catholic, and so unconventional, for he has left us a 20

representative selection of a wide variety of different types of lyric, of whose existence we should, but for him, have been ignorant” (26).

In 1965, N. R. Ker, in the introduction to the Early English Text Society

Facsimile of British Museum MS. Harley 2253, notes the predominance of the scribe’s hand in the manuscript, praising the layout of the scribe’s pages (xviii) and adding that he, unlike many other scribes, “was skilled at keeping a straight line and at spacing his lines equally and had therefore no need of horizontal ruling” (xvii).1 The scribe, he says,

copied all of Harley 2253 except folios 1r–48v, 141rv, and 142v (ix), and in Royal

12.C.XII he copied “Ten of the 15 quires, 81 of the 123 leaves, and 30 of the 36 articles

described in the Royal catalogue” (xx), a sizeable portion.

The 1975 Anglo-Norman Text Society edition of Fouke le Fitz Waryn, edited by

E. J. Hathaway, P. T. Ricketts, C. A. Robson, and A. D. Wilshere, speculates on the

identity of the scribe and on the original author of the romance. The editors hypothesize

that the original author was “a Ludlow poet, who may have been chaplain or tutor to a

great household, and who sought to edify and instruct as well as to entertain the young”

(ix). They argue that the scribe/compiler had access to the verse exemplar for this prose

romance, and that he was the one who redacted the verse romance into prose (xxxv). The

compiler, they declare, “was a priest, probably a canon of Hereford and a follower of

Adam de Orleton, bishop of Hereford 1317–27” (xxxviii); additionally, he “might have

been a tutor in a great baronial household before seeking ecclesiastical preferment; his

collection is full of serious, semi-scientific interests, schoolroom history, and devotion to

the Church” (xliii–xliv). The scribe likely “corrected” what he perceived as errors in the 21

text according to his own knowledge of local history and geography; he did the same in the Short Metrical Chronicle, which is also found in the Royal manuscript (xxvi).

A. D. Wilshere (1988) convincingly argues that the scribe of the Anglo-Norman

Bible stories found in Harley 2253 was also their author (88), basing his conclusion upon similarities between the language of the stories and that of Fouke le Fitz Waryn (86–87).

The author of the stories, however, summarizes and omits a great deal, leading Wilshere to characterize his somewhat erratic use of exemplars: “The author’s use of the Vulgate .

. . ranges from unsure recollection to almost direct translation” (81). His “treatment of his sources can range from the careless to the cavalier; mostly it is uninspired. He has a facility for turning gold into dross” (84). Considering the “freshness and vigour” of

Fouke le Fitz Waryn compared with the Bible stories, Wilshere questions “how much [of the prose Fouke le Fitz Waryn] . . . is really due not to the remanieur, . . . but to the original poet?” (88).

The extremely useful 2000 volume Studies in the Harley Manuscript: The

Scribes, Contents, and Social Contexts of British Library MS Harley 2253, edited by

Susanna Fein, includes three chapters in particular concerning the scribe. John J.

Thompson refutes Wilshere’s charges of the scribe’s carelessness, arguing that he often corrected his errors later in the text, and showing that in one case where Wilshere accuses the scribe of haphazardly changing information from his sources, the scribe’s version is in fact traceable to another source. Thompson hypothesizes that this was the case elsewhere in his text, and that scholars have simply not yet discovered these other sources

(282). Thompson admits that the scribe’s selection of details was often very different 22

from that of other writers, but that “often at the expense of the dramatic force of the narratives such details afforded his readers and listeners some limited opportunity to relate the customs and procedures of the ancient temple, tabernacle, or synagogue in Old

Testament times to those of the Christian church in the present day” (285). Although at first glance these stories might appear to be inferior work, Thompson shows that part of this misconception is caused by our own lack of knowledge. David L. Jeffrey concludes that Harley 2253 shows strong signs of having been compiled with Franciscan interests in mind, although the author admits that the scribe/compiler was not necessarily a

Franciscan himself. The most important work on the scribe to date, Carter Revard’s

“Scribe and Provenance,” summarizes many years’ work on the subject and provides the greatest documentary evidence so far of the scribe and his activities. Revard found

“forty-one dated holographs in this scribe’s hand that show he worked as a ‘conveyancer’ producing legal charters in and near Ludlow from 1314 to at least 1349” (21). These holographs allow Revard, by paleographic analysis, to date the scribe’s handwriting at various times in his career, and by comparing these to the manuscripts, to provide approximate dates for the copying of the items within the manuscripts (22). Revard’s dating is generally accepted among scholars. He declares that the scribe “appears most likely to have served as parish chaplain in Virgin’s Chapel in the parish of St.

Bartholomew” near Ludlow. He posits that the scribe’s most likely patrons were Joan

Mortimer of Richard’s Castle and her son, Sir John Talbot (22), or else Sir Laurence

Ludlow of Stokesay Castle (73), and that he was probably not connected with Roger

Mortimer nor with Bishop Adam Orleton (28–29). Looking at the scribe’s three 23

manuscripts, Revard concludes that “The picture we get [in Harley 273] is of a young man in clerical orders beyond the minor orders or aspiring to be so ordained to acolyte or subdeacon, in 1314–15” (68), and that he was “interested in serving in or even managing a large household” and was a “household cleric and chaplain” (69); that is, his religious vocation was secular rather than regular. Royal 12.C.XII reveals his interest in history

(the Short Metrical Chronicle), romance (Fouke le Fitz Waryn and Ami et Amile), dream interpretation, mathematical puzzles, and cookery recipes, along with devotional items.

Finally, Harley 2253 shows his continuing interest in many of these areas plus more of a literary side in its religious, secular, and political lyrics.

Revard’s work continues to influence scholars who write about the Ludlow scribe.

Una O’Farrell-Tate cites a private communication in which Revard says that he suspects

“the scribe received his training in English graphemics either in Ludlow or in Richard’s

Castle, three miles south of Ludlow and some eight miles north of Leominster” (55). In a

2004 article, Revard notes that the scribe was “a man who worked as a minor lawyer and chaplain in and around Ludlow between 1314 and 1349, and who probably died of the

Black Death soon after April 1349, when he wrote the latest known legal deed in his hand” (“The Wife” 117).

Both Revard and Jason O’Rourke published essays in 2005 discussing Harley

2253 as a whole and the scribe’s part in its organization. O’Rourke’s book chapter looks at the details of the scribe’s compilation, noting that Harley 2253 contains many more works in English than the scribe’s other two manuscripts, and suggesting that there may have been more English exemplars available toward the end of the scribe’s career, or 24

perhaps he simply found more of what was available (49). He declares that the scribe’s manuscripts “were all assembled using booklets of single or multiple quires, which suggests that if we are looking for evidence of arranged material, then we should be looking for it at booklet level rather than in the manuscript as a whole” (53). In the case of Royal, especially, compiled over many years as it was, the finished booklets could have lain around for a very long time before being bound into the manuscript. Revard adds to his previous thoughts that he suspects the scribe could have worked for Sir

Laurence Ludlow of Stokesay (“Four Fabliaux” 114). He argues that the scribe’s overall purpose for the compilation of Harley 2253—a book of devotions, Bible stories, lyrics, fabliaux, and many other works—was “to direct his readers to the celestial Jerusalem” and to make “a household book, to delight and teach and guide, as a primrose path to the everlasting sunrise” (13).

Interest in the scribe/compiler’s arrangement of Harley 2253 continues with the

2007 publication of two book chapters. Fein’s “Compilation and Purpose in MS Harley

2253” argues that the works contained in the manuscript “were selected from a larger store of available materials,” and “that they are typically arranged in ways both local and large” (68). She reasons that the juxtaposition of texts on a page, as well as their

“spacing, paraphs, and capitals,” comprise important elements for the understanding of the works (90). She also argues that many texts open “as a minstrel song,” calling on the audience to sit and listen (78). The scribe, then, copied, arranged, and perhaps wrote for both the eye and the ear (90). In the same anthology, Revard studies the opening quires of the manuscript in detail in his “Oppositional Thematics and Metanarrative in MS 25

Harley 2253, Quires 1–6.” Although the scribe did not himself copy quires 1–4, Revard includes them because the scribe annotated and rubricated them, showing his interest

(97). As in his previous essay, he argues that the scribe’s purpose is to direct one to heaven. Revard shows that the scribe demonstrates right action to his readers through the use of opposite themes in juxtaposition: summer and winter, youth and age, and good and evil, for example (107–08).

Over the years scholars have come to have a better understanding of the Ludlow scribe and his interests. Early hypotheses of his career as a legal scribe and his clerical training were confirmed by Carter Revard, whose work has allowed him to date the scribe’s hand often to within a year or two. Although the scribe was an amateur, he was exceptionally skilled in page layout. He copied in French, English, and Latin on a wide variety of subjects, both religious and secular, translating some works and composing a small number of them. Although Wilshere remarks on the scribe’s “careless” use of his sources and his “mostly . . . uninspired” writing (88), Thompson shows that much of

Wilshere’s criticism is baseless. The scribe, in fact, made careful use of his sources and often corrected details, particularly of history and geography, in his own versions. He seems to have copied sometimes for himself and sometimes for others, perhaps for a noble family in or near Ludlow where he might have served as household chaplain or as a tutor to the children. He had varied interests and seems to have carefully considered the arrangement of texts within his manuscripts. We may never know the name of the

Ludlow scribe, but scholars are continually discovering and deducing facts about him. 26

Having surveyed what is known about the scribe and his tendencies, I will now turn to the three manuscripts containing his hand.

British Library MS Harley 273

Harley 273, the earliest of the three manuscripts, of which the Ludlow scribe’s part is dated approximately 1314–29 (Revard, “Scribe” 58), is strongly geared to the scribe’s interest in religious and devotional works, and is for the most part in the hands of other scribes. The manuscript consists of 218 leaves of vellum. The contents are mostly in Anglo-Norman French with Medieval Latin prayers, charms, and instructions for grinding and mixing colors, as well as a translation of one French charm into Middle

English. The French items include a calendar, hours of the Virgin, rules for confession,

William of Waddington’s Manuel de péchés, the Purgatoire s. Patrice, and other religious and devotional works, as well as Richard de Furnival’s Bestiaire d’amour, the

Pseudo-Turpin chronicle, rules for household management attributed to Robert

Grosseteste, and various charms, among other items. Of these, only two prayers, several charms, most of the Purgatoire s. Patrice, and the end of the Manuel des péchés are in the hand of the scribe (Revard, “Scribe” 58, 67–68). Apparently the Ludlow scribe merely collected the majority of the works contained in this manuscript, making a number of additions and annotations to them as he read them.

Harley 273 was catalogued in 1759 in the British Museum’s Catalogue of the

Harleian Manuscripts in the British Museum. The book was revised and reprinted in four volumes in 1808–12. Although volume I lists the contents of Harley 273 (1:102), this volume begins with the history of the collection. Sir Robert Harley began gathering 27

manuscripts in the late 1600s. By the time of his death in 1721, his collection encompassed thousands of documents, including books, original charters, and rolls. His son Edward greatly enlarged the collection until his own death in 1741 (British Museum,

Catalogue 7). Humphrey Wanley, Sir Robert Harley’s librarian, began work on the

Harleian catalogue in 1708 and continued until his death in 1726, by which time he had recorded and described the works in the collection through number 2407, including both

Harley 273 and Harley 2253 (27–28). After Wanley’s death, the catalogue was continued by others and finally finished by the librarians of the British Museum, which by then possessed the collection (28–29).

Very little has been written concerning this manuscript specifically. Apart from a number of brief descriptions of the manuscript and lists of its contents, the only notable publications are those of Ronald N. Walpole, published in 1976, and of the British

Library online. Walpole describes the manuscript in considerable detail, characterizing its gatherings, ink colors, and hands. He finds it to be “a small volume containing 218 parchment folios” in 21 gatherings (29, 34), and reports how many folios are found in each quire, as well as their numeration, and location of catchwords (35, note 36).

Walpole specifically locates small works and charms that were apparently used to fill in unused spaces within the manuscript, and which appear to have been written by the

Ludlow scribe (30). The manuscript contains a table of contents on folio 217v, written about 1400. The contents, argues Walpole, “had evidently been brought together by about 1400 and have remained in the order given them at that time down to the present”

(33). Finally, the British Library, which now owns Harley 273, published its description 28

of the manuscript in its online Manuscripts Catalogue. The description includes the appearance of the manuscript, as well as a general listing of the contents, with medical texts described in full detail because the project was funded by the Wellcome Trust.

Here, the manuscript is described twice according to its quires, first in codicological terms, and second by contents. John Clerk, who was “appointed grocer and apothecary to

Edward IV” in 1462, owned the manuscript ca. 1461–83. “Sir Simonds D’Ewes, first baronet (1602–1650), diarist and antiquary,” acquired it around 1626, and finally Sir

Robert Harley purchased the manuscript on October 4, 1705. It passed to Harley’s son

Edward, then to Edward’s widow Henrietta, and at last to their daughter, Margaret

Cavendish Bentinck, duchess of Portland. The British nation bought it in 1753 as part of a collection of manuscripts destined for the newly founded British Museum (“Harley 273:

Full Description”).

Most of the contents of Harley 273, the earliest of the scribe’s three manuscripts, represent what he collected rather than what he copied. His annotations show, however, that he not only collected these texts; he studied them as well. These texts are predominantly religious and devotional, and most are in Anglo-Norman French. Scholars have been unable to discover much of the manuscript’s history prior to 1700, but it now belongs to the British nation and is housed in the British Library.

British Library MS Royal 12.C.XII

Royal 12.C.XII, of which the Ludlow scribe’s part is dated approximately 1316–

40 (Revard, “Scribe” 58), is much broader in range of contents than Harley 273, and is similar in that sense to Harley 2253. Royal was copied in large part by the scribe. The 29

manuscript consists of 123 leaves of vellum, and thirty of the thirty-six articles are in the scribe’s hand (Ker xx). Only three items are in Middle English: (1) the Short Metrical

Chronicle; (2) part of a group of macaronic satirical verses; and (3) a charm that has been inserted into the manuscript. The rest are in Anglo-Norman French, Medieval Latin, or a combination of the two. Tending to be less literary and more practical than Harley 2253, this manuscript’s contents include devotional works, satirical verses on legal and political subjects, medical and cookery recipes, charms, puzzles, prophecies, treatises on dreams and on friendship, the romances Fouke le Fitz Waryn and Amys and Amyloun, and the

Short Metrical Chronicle, among other works.

Early interest in this manuscript largely concentrated on Fouke le Fitz Waryn, of which several editions were published.2 Paul Meyer briefly summarized the contents of

the manuscript in 1893, often transcribing several lines of text from the manuscript, giving his comments, and listing editions. This article is of limited value because

Meyer’s interest was mainly in the manuscript’s cookery recipes found on folios 11r–13r,

which he transcribed fully (“Notice” 48–56). Meyer also noted that the signature

“Lumley” appears on the first page; Lord Lumley was a manuscript collector. On Lord

Lumley’s death in 1609, his collection was purchased by the son of James I, and in 1612

some of it, including this manuscript, became part of the royal library (“Notice” 38–39).

This collection was donated by King George II in 1757 to the new British Museum,

where it was known as the Old Royal Library (British Museum, Old Royal 3).

Subsequently, the manuscript collection was moved to the British Library. 30

Two important works in 1965 and 1975 focused attention on the scribe who copied major parts of the manuscript. The first of these is the Early English Text

Society’s Facsimile of British Museum MS. Harley 2253, edited by Ker. Ker lists the articles in Royal that are in the Ludlow scribe’s hand, adding that the manuscript probably originated in the West Midlands (xx–xxi). The second book, the Anglo-

Norman Text Society’s edition of Fouke le Fitz Waryn, edited by Hathaway et al., contains a lengthy introduction that includes a discussion of the compiler (the Ludlow scribe), the stages of compilation, and the contents. The editors conclude that the manuscript was assembled in three stages. First, booklets 3, 6, and 8 were collected, containing, respectively, the Mireur de Seint’Eglise, Ami et Amile, and the Liber experimentarius. Second, the scribe copied booklets 4 and 5, the first part of Fouke le

Fitz Waryn and the Short Metrical Chronicle, as well as booklets 1 and 7 “containing miscellanies of a serious type, perhaps to serve as a prelude to booklets 3 and 8 respectively” (xliv–xlv). Finally, several years later, he added to booklet 4 to complete

Fouke le Fitz Waryn, and he inserted booklet 2, “yet another miscellany of a more recreational kind, in which cookery recipes and mathematical puzzles figure side by side with prophecies” (xlv).

Three subsequent works include descriptions of the manuscript. Constance B.

Hieatt and Robin F. Jones followed in the steps of Meyer, discussing the manuscript’s cookery recipes and remarking that these are in the hand of the Ludlow scribe (859).

O’Farrell-Tate’s 2002 edition of the Short Metrical Chronicle includes a useful physical description of the manuscript, its contents, and a listing of the contents by language. 31

Finally, the British Library’s description of the manuscript was added to its online

Manuscripts Catalogue. This includes a brief physical description of the manuscript as well as a numbered listing and description of each of the texts, and references to published information about them (“Royal 12.C.xii: Full Description”).

In the second of the scribe’s three books, Royal 12.C.XII, the contents are more wide-ranging than in the previous book, containing a number of secular works as well as religious and devotional texts. Often considered to be the scribe’s commonplace book, this manuscript includes legal and political verses, as well as recipes, charms, romances, and puzzles, among other works. Scholars have often been attracted to Fouke le Fitz

Waryn, a work that contains a number of accurate geographical and historical references to the Ludlow area and that helped greatly to localize the scribe.

British Library MS Harley 2253

Harley 2253, a trilingual miscellany consisting of 140 leaves of vellum, is largely the work of two scribes.3 The first part of the manuscript, folios 1r–48v, consists of five devotional works in French that were copied in the late thirteenth century. This part of the manuscript is only of peripheral interest in this study since it was not copied, but merely collected, by the Ludlow scribe. The rest, folios 49r–140r, was copied by the

Ludlow scribe ca. 1340–42, with the exception of De martiro sancti Wistani on folio

140v, which has been dated 1346–47 (Revard, “Scribe” 62) The manuscript contains religious and secular works including saints’ lives, didactic works, debates, love lyrics, political and historical works, satires, fabliaux, and one romance, King Horn. The manuscript is predominantly in Anglo-Norman French and is noted for its literary 32

content. It contains, significantly, the majority of known English secular lyrics before

Chaucer, as well as five French fabliaux. Harley 2253 was first described, along with

Harley 273, as part of the British Museum’s A Catalogue of the Harleian Manuscripts in the British Museum (2:585-91).

Early interest in the manuscript was largely limited to the lyrics. Wright published two editions of these in 1839 and 1842. In the latter, he characterized MS

Harley 2253 as being “well known to the amateurs of early English poetry,” and he argued that it was written either in or shortly after 1307 because of the inclusion of a lyric concerning the death of Edward I in that year (Specimens v). Karl Böddeker expanded the availability of the lyrics in 1878.4 His edition contains the political, secular, and religious lyrics, plus the Debate between Body and Soul, Maximian, Marina, the

Harrowing of Hell, and Hending. A brief explanatory introduction prefaces each work, including a list of other manuscripts where the particular work is found, as well as editions. Böddeker added a section of Middle English grammar as well as an extensive glossary. King Horn, the manuscript’s sole romance, was edited and published by Joseph

Hall (1901). Hall asserted that the manuscript was copied 1314–20 (viii) and that the dialect of the manuscript’s version of King Horn indicated that it “was probably written at Leominster” (xliv). Elinor Rees argued (1941) that of the forty poems in the manuscript, “most, if not all, give evidence of Provençal influence” (81) mainly in subject matter, and that “every one of the forty vernacular Harleian lyrics showed definite metrical relationships with the Provençal” (95). Her argument was not embraced by later scholars. In 1948, the first new edition of the lyrics since that of Böddeker appeared: 33

Brook’s The Harley Lyrics: The Middle English Lyrics of MS. Harley 2253. Brook remarked on the value of Harley 2253, noting that “More than half the secular lyrics that have come down from before the end of the fourteenth century are preserved in [this] single manuscript” (1), which, along with the other manuscripts of the Harley collection,

“became the property of the nation” in 1753 (2). The manuscript, according to Brook, originated in the West Midlands, possibly Hereford or Leominster, and parts of it were copied 1314–25 (3). He concluded that “To the literary historian the chief importance of the Harley Lyrics is that they show the first sustained treatment in English of the theme of love” (20). The promulgation of the lyrics, in particular, led to increased recognition of

Harley 2253 as one of the most important medieval manuscripts of England.

By 1965 there was enough interest in the manuscript for the publication of Ker’s facsimile by the Early English Text Society. This landmark edition lists the detailed contents of the manuscript along with exhaustive codicological information, its collation, and its relationship to Royal 12.C.XII. Ker states that the manuscript originated in

Herefordshire (xxii). It eventually fell into the hands of John Batteley, archdeacon of

Canterbury, who died in 1708. Batteley’s nephew John Batteley sold this as one of seventy-two manuscripts to the Harleian library on November 5, 1723 (xx). Interest in the origin and history of the manuscript continued. In the Anglo-Norman Text Society’s edition of Fouke le Fitz Waryn (1975), editors Hathaway et al. narrow the location of

Harley 2253’s creation still further, arguing that it was connected “with the bishop and chapter of Hereford” (xxxix).5 34

The publication of the facsimile edition by the Early English Text Society led in turn to more broad-based knowledge of and interest in Harley 2253 and its contents.

Several scholars have suggested new interpretations of some of the texts. A. T. E.

Matonis argues that, although the manuscript is considered to have originated in England, there is Celtic influence on the Middle English verse of the manuscript, especially regarding “matters of metrics, rime, and other versification techniques” (92). Daniel J.

Ransom focuses on four lyrics, Weping haueth my wonges wet, Annot and John, The Fair

Maid of Ribblesdale, and A Wayl Whyt ase Whalles Bon, showing that they are, in some cases contrary to prevailing opinion, meant to be ironically humorous. John Scattergood also focuses on four lyrics in four book chapters, these lyrics including both alliteration and rhyme: An Old Man’s Prayer, Satire on the Consistory Courts, De Clerico et Puella, and A Winter Song. He argues that the first of these lyrics “is not a traditional meditation on old age, but . . . [is rather] an investigation of what happens to an indentured retainer when he grows old” (26). Scattergood’s second chapter focuses on the issue of writing and its relationship to power, while the third characterizes De Clerico et Puella as an unusual love poem in which the wooer is taken seriously and succeeds, in contrast to the more typical love poems in which the wooer is treated as a subject of amusement. In his fourth chapter, Scattergood provides a close reading of five lines of A Winter Song.

Revard writes of English confessional satires, including a discussion of the manuscript’s

The Man in the Moon and A Satire on the Consistory Courts. Revard claims that the latter, considered by others to be a “preaching poem, one fit to be recited from the pulpit,” is in fact a “confessional satire, whose raillery against social abuses is secondary 35

to the self-satirizing revelation of the “speaker’s” character” (“Lecher” 62). The poem, he concludes, is in fact “a satire on complaining sinners” (67). Lastly, Fein (2005) examines each of the 32 poems commonly known as the “Harley Lyrics,” describing each briefly with emphasis on alliteration and rhyme, and providing analyses of key points.

The descriptions are followed by an exhaustive bibliography for each lyric (XXVII).

One major thread of Harley 2253 scholarship in recent years has been that of the organization of the manuscript’s contents and the interrelationships of the texts. Revard argues (1982) that Harley 2253 is not a miscellany, but is arranged according to a plan, and that both the Anglo-Norman Gilote et Johane and the Middle English Harrowing of

Hell are interludes, one sacred, one profane, with markings to indicate the various speakers or players. This, he says, is only one of numerous examples within the manuscript of the juxtaposition of opposites (“Gilote” 127–29). Andrew Howell published one of the earliest studies (1980) linking works in the manuscript to others copied near them. Here, Howell shows parallels between the lyrics Lenten ys come and

In May hit murgeþ in the ways they open and close and in the ways they develop themes of love and mistrust of women. Similarly, Joseph A. Dane proposes in his controversial

“Page Layout and Textual Autonomy in MS Harley 2253: ‘Lenten ys Come wiþ Loue to

Toune’” that there is a closer connection than has been hitherto recognized between this lyric and In May hit murgeþ. Both lyrics begin in parallel columns (left and right, respectively) on folio 71v. Dane notes that the scribe made a point of beginning both poems in tandem after the completion of the previous article. The accepted interpretation is that Lenten continues and ends in the left column of the next page, while In May ends 36

at the bottom of folio 71v. Dane suggests that the final lines on folio 72r are meant to serve as the concluding lines to both lyrics (38).6

In 2000, Studies in the Harley Manuscript: The Scribes, Contents, and Social

Contexts of British Library MS Harley 2253 appeared, in which a number of scholars

present their views on the organization of the manuscript. Editor Fein’s introduction

notes of the manuscript that “anthologizing tendencies are evident in it. The contents in

some places seem to be grouped by section, topic, genre, language, meter, or medium

(verse or prose)” (8). Theo Stemmler presents the argument that the book does indeed

have an overall organization: “it is an anthology, a careful collection selected as

representative specimens of various genres,” he concludes, and that on the largest scale,

the first part of the manuscript is essentially verse, the rest prose, with few exceptions

(113–14). He then describes the makeup of what he views as the five sections of the

manuscript. Further segmenting the manuscript, Fein, in “A Saint ‘Geynest under Gore’:

Marina and the Love Lyrics of the Seventh Quire” shows that this part of the manuscript

consists of a series of works concerned with women, and in particular, with male

fascination with what is under women’s clothing. Barbara Nolan’s analysis of Quires

12–14 argues for a common theme inherent in most of the texts of this block: “How . . . is

a gentleman to conduct himself so as to win honor and avoid shame? And how is he to

approach the fraught problem of women, honored by God through his own mother Mary,

but also deceptive, fickle, lecherous, conniving, and altogether dangerous?” (295). She

concludes by comparing Harley 2253 with the Canterbury Tales: “In both cases, the

material book, presented as an anthology, virtually requires us to read backwards and 37

forwards, to compare, contrast, and recollect the details of a particular range of well- known texts and kinds of text for the sake of vibrant debate and moral edification” (327).

Studies in the Harley Manuscript also contains chapters on such topics as the political verse, the debate verse, the religious works, dreams, the scribe and geographic origin of the manuscript, the scribe’s layout and punctuation, and his decisions to use or to translate the English of his exemplars.

Publication of Studies in the Harley Manuscript spurred additional work that emphasizes the connections among works in the manuscript. Marilyn Corrie, in 2003, usefully shows linkages to the topic of kings and kingship across languages, history, and fiction in the longer works of the manuscript, ranging from the Latin prose Vita Sancti

Ethelberti to the Anglo-Norman verse Le Roi d’Angleterre et le Jongleur d’Ely.

O’Rourke concludes that organization in the manuscript is at the booklet level (53), and that the scribe often filled in blank spaces left by other scribes, so in these areas there is often no logical relationship among the works (56). Revard examines the second half of

Quire 7 and the first part of Quire 8 in a 2004 essay concluding that the works in these quires, taken as a whole, demonstrate to the reader that women are often evil, love is transitory, and that only through pilgrimage, penance, and prayer can man hope ultimately to reach heaven (“The Wife”). Revard again emphasizes the juxtaposition of opposites in a 2005 study of four fabliaux found in the manuscript. These concern the wickedness of women, “but immediately following or preceding such antifeminist pieces, the scribe has set poems (in French and English) praising women as wonderful, indeed, perfect.” He insists that the scribe created the manuscript to show his readers the way to 38

heaven (“Four Fabliaux” 113). More recently, Revard argues that the first six quires portray correct and praiseworthy behavior through the juxtaposition of opposites, reasoning that certain concepts can only be properly understood through the study of their contraries (“Oppositional”). In the same collection, Fein argues for relationships at many levels throughout the manuscript, as well as for organization meant to appeal both to the eye (page layout) and to the ear (a number of works beginning with a call for the audience to listen) (“Compilation”).

Along with his description of Harley 2253 itself, John Hines (2004) explores the manuscript’s geographical context as a way to understand the texts within it. In his chapter on Harley 2253 and MS Digby 86 (71-104), he describes Ludlow, its economy, and its environs at the time Harley 2253 was copied. He then analyzes points in several specific texts in the manuscript that are clarified by a knowledge of the locality and its history.

Harley 2253, the latest of the scribe’s three manuscripts, is the one in which he copied most of the material, and it is the one that has attracted the most critical interest over the years. Scholars early recognized the superiority of the English lyrics found in this manuscript, and for many years these, along with the romance King Horn, were the only texts that were commonly available. In more recent years Harley 2253 scholarship has blossomed due to the publication of several key works, particularly the EETS facsimile edition and Studies in the Harley Manuscript, making more of it accessible to both scholars and the antiquarian public. Critics are now keenly interested in the role of the scribe as compiler. As the years go by, scholars continue to find layers of meaning 39

within this manuscript as a whole and in its individual works. Having briefly reviewed the literature concerning the fields of study and the manuscripts with which I am concerned, I will now turn to my approach to the material and my methodology.

Approach/Method

As a way to characterize the Ludlow scribe’s tastes and interests more fully in an unexplored area and across manuscripts, I will consider four romances in the scribe’s three manuscripts that are in his own hand: in Harley 273, the Purgatoire s. Patrice

(Anglo-Norman verse); in Royal 12.C.XII, the Short Metrical Chronicle (Middle English verse) and Fouke le Fitz Waryn (Anglo-Norman prose); and in Harley 2253, King Horn

(Middle English verse). I will look at the reception history of each romance by surveying the extant manuscripts of each, as well as assess the romance’s literary merits and possible reasons for its appeal to the scribe.

These four works are not the traditional romances of France that concern love; rather, they deal with adventure—often marvelous—in a constructed chivalric society in which travel, cultural identity, and religion are foremost. I will analyze the connections between and among them, attempting to discover the scribe’s logic in choosing these particular works for inclusion in his library. Although the chronology of the scribe’s copying of the works is of great importance, showing, as it does, his changing interests over the years of approximately 1314–42, it is impossible in our present state of knowledge to determine his name, the identity of his patron or patrons, or the facts of his life. Rather, I have presented here the theories as to his training and professional interests in order to retrieve what we know of his preferences and areas of knowledge. As I 40

proceed in the next chapters, I will create a bibliography of the editions of these romances as I determine how the scribe’s texts relate to other versions—in both Middle English and

Anglo-Norman–and how the scribe’s changes may be characterized. I will consider the manuscript versions of each of the four romances and all available editions of these versions in order to draw comparisons and conclusions about their interrelationships. I have consulted other versions of these romances in order to determine what significant differences and similarities there may be among them, and between them and the Ludlow scribe’s versions.

To conduct my research, I have used microfilm copies of Harley 273 and Royal

12.C.XII, as well as the published facsimile copy of Harley 2253 and published editions of the romances. I have examined the manuscripts themselves in the British Library. My secondary sources include general works on Middle English and Anglo-Norman romance; books and articles dealing with the individual romances; and Studies in the

Harley Manuscript, the volume of essays concerning Harley 2253 specifically. Very little is known about the manuscripts, particularly the two earlier ones, as this chapter has made clear. What we do have is the handwriting that links these three manuscripts together. Although Hall is generally credited with identifying, in 1901, the main scribe of Harley 2253 as the same hand who copied Royal 12.C.XII (Hall viii, note 1), I have shown that Ritson was the first to establish that relationship in 1802 (3:339). Although

Christopher Hohler first connected Harley 273 with the other two manuscripts (Revard,

“Scribe” 26, note 9), Revard has done the most research on the scribe over the past thirty years. Revard’s painstaking paleographic work to create a chronology of the scribe’s 41

handwriting and his subsequent dating of various items in the manuscripts has been invaluable to my work. My research has also been enriched by direct correspondence with Professor Revard.

The remainder of this dissertation is arranged as follows. Chapter Two contains the textual history of the four romances. Chapters Three, Four, Five, and Six are each devoted to one of the romances. Each contains a synopsis, a transmission history, an analysis of structure and argument, a discussion of genre and/or type of romance, an analysis of the particular text’s uniqueness, and a bibliography of the versions of the text.

Chapter Seven, the final chapter, summarizes my findings by discussing the relationships of the scribe to these three books; the major topics and elements of the romances; the influence of the scribe as compiler, author, and redactor; and, finally, my own conclusions, and how they change the way scholars currently regard these romances and their scribe. The scribe sought to educate and entertain his readers. Some of the works were for his own use as a cleric, while others seemed to have been selected for the purpose of teaching or entertaining others. Scribes had their own manners of copying: some were careful, some not; some changed the text purposely, resulting in highly individualized versions of a particular text. Wilshere’s claim of the Ludlow scribe’s carelessness has been shown by Thompson to be largely without substance. The scribe’s alterations to his presumed exemplar often improve the text: his verse is often more metrical and pleasing, his descriptions more clear and historically precise than those of his predecessors or of other scribes who copied the texts. It is my hope that what I have discovered about the Ludlow scribe will help to put his work into perspective, 42

demonstrating that he is one of the most important of the identifiable scribes of the late

Middle Ages in England. 43

Notes

1 According to Clanchy, bad layout is one of the signs of an amateur scribe (103).

Although the Ludlow scribe is not considered to have been a professional, he is regarded as a careful and skilled amateur.

2 Details regarding Fouke le Fitz Waryn scholarship are found in Chapter Two.

3 There is one small addition in a third hand on folio 52v (Ker xviii).

4 The book was republished in 1969.

5 Revard refuted this argument in 2000, arguing convincingly that the scribe “appears

most likely to have served as parish chaplain in Virgin’s Chapel in the parish of St.

Bartholomew” near Ludlow. He tentatively suggests that the scribe’s most likely patrons

were Joan Mortimer of Richard’s Castle and her son Sir John Talbot (“Scribe” 22).

6 Fein argues specifically against the final lines serving both lyrics, saying “it overlooks tone and style” and noting that if the scribe had meant these lines to be read in this way, he would have indicated it in some obvious fashion (“Compilation” 72).

CHAPTER II

EDITORIAL AND CRITICAL HISTORIES OF THE FOUR ROMANCES

Although the four romances copied by the Ludlow scribe have been in existence for nearly seven hundred years, they have been of interest to critics for only the last two hundred years. Much of the scholarship, particularly the earliest, consisted of editions and studies of the relationships among the versions. Later interest centers on the sources of the works and on various literary aspects of the romances. What follows is a summary of scholarship to date concerning not only the Ludlow scribe’s versions, but also all known versions of the romances. Thus, this chapter offers the first systematic examination of these four romances as a grouping of texts that were copied and modified by the Ludlow scribe.

Purgatoire s. Patrice

From the time of the first scholarly interest in this narrative in 1844 through 1893, the published work on the Purgatoire s. Patrice primarily concerned its classification and an overview of the numerous versions of the story. In his 1844 book St. Patrick’s

Purgatory, an Essay on the Legends of Purgatory, Hell, and Paradise, Current During the Middle Ages, Thomas Wright brought first attention to St. Patrick’s Purgatory.

Wright’s study covers a vast amount of territory, including the history of Ireland’s Lough

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Derg and the legends surrounding it, purgatory legends current in the twelfth century, and

applications of the visions and their influence on later literature. Wright briefly discussed

the Latin, Anglo-Norman, and English versions of the narrative, giving a summary of the

story based on the last English version (OM2) as recorded in London, British Library MS

Cotton Caligula A.II (St. Patrick’s 64–78).

Eugen Kölbing unsuccessfully attempted to compare all the known versions of the

narrative in Latin, Anglo-Norman, and Middle English. According to Manfred Görlach,

Kölbing’s analysis “suffers from the attempt to compare too many versions with each

other at the same time” (269, note 69). Robert Easting adds that the analysis is

“confusing” and that this attempt, in 1877, was the last one anyone made to compare all the known versions to each other (“South” 120). H. L. D. Ward (1893) discussed the narrative and also documented all the manuscripts in which it appeared in the British

Museum, now the British Library. He classified the Latin manuscripts into two groups,

later known as α and β, by using three “test passages.” He then classified a number of the

British Museum’s texts of the narrative into these two groups, a classification that is still used by scholars today (2:435–84).

From 1894 to 1938, scholarly interest centered on the publication of editions of the five Anglo-Norman versions of the narrative. The first of these (1894), is an edition of the oldest known Anglo-Norman version and what has become the most familiar form of the romance, that attributed to Marie de France. Thomas Atkinson Jenkins argued that this is the oldest of Marie’s works, in part because the language is older, and in part because the translation is not as skillful as that of her Lais and Fables (14–15). Jenkins’s

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edition is highly enough regarded that it was reprinted in 1974. In 1915, Johan Vising’s edition of the second-oldest known Anglo-Norman version of the romance (known later as the second anonymous version) appeared: the version found in Harley 273. Vising declared that both texts of this version derive from a lost Anglo-Norman copy, concluding that the text found in Harley 273 is superior to that found in the continental

French text of the same version (5–6). Vising’s text is accompanied by a brief analysis of the texts and their language, notes, and a glossary, and although these are not extensive, this text is the only edition to date. It includes virtually the only comments concerning this particular version of the narrative.

Editions of two other Anglo-Norman versions, that by Bérol and the text found in a continental French manuscript, were the work of Marianne Mörner in 1917 and 1920, respectively. Mörner concluded that the Anglo-Norman translation by Bérol is not particularly close, but rather, somewhat free (Le Purgatoire . . . par Bérol xxvi). Her edition of the Bérol gave the text of both known manuscripts, one Anglo-Norman, one continental French, on facing pages. Her second edition is of the latest Anglo-Norman version of the narrative, known later as the third anonymous version. Although Mörner’s text is taken from a continental French translation, it is, according to Ruth Dean and

Maureen B. M. Boulton, a translation of the Anglo-Norman text found in London, British

Library MS Cotton Domitian A.IV (305). C. M. van der Zanden completed the publication of the Anglo-Norman versions with that of the first anonymous version, in

1927. In this edition, Van der Zanden published not only the Anglo-Norman text, but also the Latin text of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Pactricii found in Utrecht,

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University Library, MS 173, and an English translation of the Latin text. Van der Zanden declared that the original Latin version of the narrative was fairly short, that details of interest to a religious community were added later, and that when the work was translated into the vernacular, these details were omitted for the laity. In this sense, he asserted, the vernacular versions are often very similar to the earliest of the Latin versions (46). Karl

Warnke published another version of the text by Marie de France (1938) in which he gave Marie’s version on one page, and two columns, each with one of the Latin versions

α and β, on facing pages.

Interest for a time focused on dating the narrative. In 1965, F. W. Locke argued that the Tractatus had to have been written between 1208 and 1215. This, he states, must be true if his theory regarding the identity of Abbot H. of Sartis is correct (644–46).

Easting in 1978 argues that the Tractatus was written ca. 1179–81, basing his persuasive theory on a different identification of Abbot H. (“Date” 782). Easting went on to become the most prolific scholar by far to write about this narrative. Yolande de Pontfarcy argues for two composition dates: 1184 for the short version of the work, then 1188–90 for the long version (464–65).

Between 1986 and 1991, Easting published a number of articles on the narrative.

In one of these, he argues that Owein’s adventure in purgatory took place no later than ca.

1146–47, and that he went to the Holy Land after his adventure as a pilgrim by 1148

(“Owein” 166–67). He argues that the β version of the text, being longer, is probably the original form of the narrative (168). In another work, after a brief overview of the

Tractatus and the Anglo-Norman versions, he discusses the differences among the three

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extant Middle English versions of the story, known as pa, OM1, and OM2. He concludes that OM1, the version found in the Auchinleck manuscript, is “much the most interesting of the three English versions,” and that it is based on an Anglo-Norman manuscript, later identified by Dean and Boulton as the first anonymous version (“English” 62). Easting’s interest in the Middle English texts continued through an article, a book chapter, and an edition, all published within a period of two years. “The South English Legendary ‘St

Patrick’ as Translation,” published in 1990, is a detailed study of the first English version, pa, which he asserts was closely translated from one of the Latin α texts, rather than from one of the Anglo-Norman versions (123). His 1991 “Middle English

Translations of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii” again considers the three

Middle English versions, placing emphasis on the differences in omissions and on the missing parts of the manuscripts involved. The first version, pa, is the most faithful to the Latin (154–55); the second version, OM1, is “by far the most elaborately developed of the Middle English versions” (162–63); and the third version, OM2, “stresses the trials and triumph of a fearful yet repentant sinner” as well as the importance of penance (169).

Easting then published (1991) his useful edition of OM1 and OM2, along with the β version of the Tractatus and another vision narrative in St. Patrick’s Purgatory: Two

Versions of Owayne Miles and The Vision of William of Stranton together with the Long

Text of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii, a publication of the Early English Text

Society. Here, he discusses the manuscripts containing each version, as well as the language of each and its relationship to the Tractatus.

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In the past fifteen years, more interest has developed in the narrative, and other scholars have joined Easting in publishing articles. Most of this interest, however, has focused on the earliest Anglo-Norman version, that of Marie de France. Another edition of Marie’s version, that edited by Michael J. Curley (1993), has the advantage of including the original text as well as a facing-page translation in modern English. In his introduction, Curley writes a good deal about the history of the actual, physical place known as Saint Patrick’s Purgatory. Although Marie’s version is considered by many to be extraordinarily faithful to the Latin texts, Curley’s analysis emphasizes the way the translator tailored the work for a lay audience by de-emphasizing, but not eliminating, some of the monastic material and by stressing the name of Owein rather than the names of monks and abbots listed in the Latin versions (24). Bonnie H. Leonard (1993) also calls attention to Marie’s accommodations to her readers. She notes that there is some confusion as to when Marie is translating in the stead of H. of Saltrey and when she is writing in her own person (58). In addition, Leonard asserts that Marie addresses her audience directly and inserts her own comments on the action on several occasions (58–

60).

In 1999, Dean and Boulton’s landmark Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to

Texts and Manuscripts gave scholars a convenient reference for the five Anglo-Norman versions of the story: those of Marie de France and of Bérol, as well as the first, second, and third anonymous versions, listing manuscripts, incipits, editions of each, and important published articles. David L. Pike regards Marie’s translation as essentially faithful, although she made some changes to better accommodate her lay readers. He

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goes on to compare Owein’s otherworld adventure with those found in Marie’s Breton lays Yonec, Guigemar, and Lanval, a topic of interest to scholars of Marie’s works. Most recently (2006), Easting discusses visions of heaven and hell, using the story of St.

Patrick’s Purgatory as an example. Interestingly, he remarks that hell is described both more often and in more detail than is heaven (“Access” 76). Visionaries, he explains, cannot actually see heaven because they are still alive “and by that fact alone are debarred from full entry to heaven,” or for some other reason they cannot or will not describe heaven (86). He also revises his date for the writing of the Tractatus to ca.

1181–84 (80).

Most of the interest over the years in this story has been focused on the Anglo-

Norman version of Marie de France because of her fame as the author of the Lais and the

Fables. The one person who has published the most on the narrative as a whole is

Easting, whose interest lies particularly in visions and in the English versions. Relatively little has been written concerning the other four Anglo-Norman versions.

Short Metrical Chronicle

Historically there has been very little published on the Short Metrical Chronicle, aptly described by one editor as “this neglected text” (O’Farrell-Tate 10). That said, one might be surprised that two of these works are in such demand that they have actually been reprinted. The books and articles on the Short Metrical Chronicle, almost invariably editions of the texts, have been widely scattered over the course of over two centuries, and for the most part concern either the version found in Royal 12.C.XII or that found in the Auchinleck manuscript.

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The earliest edition of the Chronicle was that of the Royal manuscript published by Joseph Ritson in 1802 in volume two of his three-volume Ancient Engleish Metrical

Romanceës. His “Notes” to the edition, in volume two, consists of an introduction that runs to two and one-half pages, mentions in passing the version found in the Auchinleck manuscript, and is primarily concerned with oral histories in general. The edition includes no alternate readings, textual notes, or other critical apparatus; Ritson has included only the bare transcription of the Royal text. In 1885 Edmund Goldsmid published his “revised edition” of the three-volume work. The Chronicle appears with a shortened introduction, somewhat modernized spelling (including the title, Ancient

English Metrical Romances), and no other apparent changes. Una O’Farrell-Tate notes that both editions contain textual errors (10).

Scholars have been interested in the relationship of the manuscripts for more than

100 years. R. Sternberg compared the sources and presentations of information found in several manuscripts, primarily Royal and Auchinleck (1893). His work is of limited value and was superseded by that of Ewald Zettl in 1935. Zettl remarked that Sternberg’s comparison of the texts used only Ritson’s edition of Royal, a copy of Auchinleck, and

“copies of the first and last fifty lines of four other MSS. at his disposal” (vii). The

Auchinleck text and the Rawlinson fragment were edited and published by Marion Crane

Carroll and Rosemond Tuve. Their helpful edition includes both an introduction concerning the Short Metrical Chronicle in general and a comparison of the two manuscripts, concluding that “the Rawlinson represents a shortened form of the chronicle” (149). The editors suggested that the Rawlinson compiler used a form of

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Auchinleck and corrected the text by using other sources, especially that of William of

Malmesbury, and that he abridged the text as well (151–53).

The most important analysis of all surviving texts of the Chronicle to the current time also includes an edition of the text found in British Library Additional MS 19677 and that of Cambridge University Library MS Gg. I. i, a related text in Anglo-Norman prose. This work is the landmark edition by Zettl, published in 1935 as An Anonymous

Short English Metrical Chronicle by the Early English Text Society and later reprinted.

It contains a description of all the known manuscripts and their relationships, a discussion of the sources used, an analysis of the language and dialect of each, a glossary, and an index of proper names. Zettl presented his edition of the Additional text with extensive marginal references to other versions of the text, as well as extensive footnotes. After the

Additional text, he included a section showing specific passages where his base text varies most from other versions. Finally, he gave the complete transcription of the

Anglo-Norman prose text. Zettl’s analysis of the relationships of the manuscripts is particularly thorough, discussing variants and often offering his opinion as to when a particular new detail entered the Chronicle. He concluded that the Royal text is closest to the lost original text. In addition, he often argued that differences between Royal and the other versions were the work either of the original author or of the redactor of Royal, usually, but not always, giving his reasons. Consequently, O’Farrell-Tate argues that

“certain of Zettl’s findings are open to dispute, and some of his conclusions must now be treated with caution” (10). The following year, in 1936, G. V. Smithers reviewed Zettl’s edition. He praised the editor’s meticulous work in a number of areas, but takes issue

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with Zettl’s suggestion that the Chronicle is basically a badly written history full of too many romance elements. Smithers argued that the work was meant to be “popular and literary, not historical and educational” (70). He also stated that “[t]he glossary remains quite a valuable and useful piece of work, although it is marred by a few lapses and omissions” (72), then giving examples of these problems for several pages. Smithers concluded: “Faults and inadequacies appear to be mainly on the linguistic side, and they are not such as to invalidate the positive contributions to our knowledge” (76). Indeed,

Zettl’s analysis remains the most comprehensive one to date.

After a gap of nearly sixty years in which nothing particularly significant was published, the last ten years have seen a resurgence of interest in the Short Metrical

Chronicle. Thorlac Turville-Petre, in one of the most important essays to date, devotes a book chapter to the Auchinleck manuscript, and several pages of that chapter to the version of the Chronicle contained therein (108–12). He has little regard for the

Chronicle in general; calling it “[t]his wretched little work,” opining that “[i]ts only quality is brevity” (108–109). His opinion of this version in particular is even lower. He emphasizes the redactor’s wild flights of fancy and the strong romance flavor of the text.

He does, however, note that the Auchinleck version’s purpose is to connect to the contents of the manuscript and to show how the romances are to be viewed from a chronological perspective and from the standpoint of English history as a whole (112).

O’Farrell-Tate’s invaluable 2002 edition of the Royal text, the first new edition of the text since that of Ritson over two hundred years ago, corrects many of the flaws present in the earlier edition. She incorporates, in particular, a comparison of the Royal

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text in relation to the other surviving manuscripts. Although the editor does not include the Anglo-Norman prose text in her comparisons, she does discuss its possible relationship as a source of the information found in the English versions (43–46). She relies heavily on the work of Zettl throughout, but generally avoids retracing his footsteps too closely. O’Farrell-Tate includes a description of the Royal manuscript, and to her transcription of the text she adds the underlining evident in the manuscript.1 She also

includes a comparative table listing the names of the kings found in each of the five

extant complete Middle English texts, and another table listing the sometimes confusing

names of the kings named in the Chronicle alongside their modern equivalents.

The analyses of Zettl and of O’Farrell-Tate do not take into account the text

recently found in one last fragment, reported and edited in 2006 by Peter Grund. The

fragment, found in Bibliotheca Philosophica Hermetica M199, consists of 73 lines,

mostly concerning the story of King Bladud and his building of the hot baths. It is part of

a manuscript largely devoted to alchemy and copied in a number of late sixteenth- and

early seventeenth-century hands. Grund suggests that the person who inscribed the

passages was interested either in the description of Bladud’s heat source or in something

he might have interpreted as “a solvent of some sort that would dissolve or cleanse the

primary material of gold” (282). Although Grund’s findings are not particularly

enlightening, the discovery of a new fragment of this relatively rare text is of interest to

scholars.

The work done thus far on the Short Metrical Chronicle has been accomplished

almost exclusively by the editors of its various versions. The Ludlow scribe’s Royal

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version is the most frequently edited, with two editions and a reprint of the first of these.

The Auchinleck manuscript has been edited once and has from time to time received critical comment. The Anglo-Norman prose version is fairly often the subject of brief comments or speculation. Much of the work on all the texts consists of studies of their relationships and their sources.

Fouke le Fitz Waryn

Throughout the nineteenth century and until 1930, most work on Fouke le Fitz

Waryn consisted of preparing and publishing editions and translations. In 1840,

Francisque Michel’s edition appeared, followed in 1855 by Wright’s important work, which also included an English translation and notes. Wright’s introduction touched on most of the issues that have continued to interest scholars of this romance. He asserted that the manuscript copy was written prior to 1320, and rightly stated that the extant version is a paraphrase of an earlier Anglo-Norman poem, giving examples where “the original verse betrays itself in the midst of the paraphrase” (History v–vi). He suggested that John Leland possessed the verse version from which the prose remaniement was made (viii), and he dated this earlier version to the period 1256–64 (x), dates still accepted by the majority of modern critics. Wright argued that the lost English version of the romance used by Leland was written in alliterative verse and dates from the same period as the extant Anglo-Norman prose version (xi–xii). Finally, he noted the many distortions of fact and instances of pure fiction in the tale, concluding that someone in the service of the Fitz Waryns wrote it based on family traditions but with an exact knowledge of geographic locations in and around Ludlow (xiii–xv).

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Josephus Stevenson’s edition (1875) includes an English translation together with several comments comparing “facts” in the romance with documentary evidence, providing little new information, concluding that in places the “facts” are accurate, in others they are not (xxi–xxiii). Alice Kemp-Welch’s 1904 translation of the romance is notable for its introduction by Louis Brandin, who later became one of foremost scholars of the romance. Brandin suggested a connection between Robin Hood and Fouke le Fitz

Waryn via the mention of Randolf of Chester in the B-Text of Piers Plowman (xvii–xviii;

Langland Passus V, 396–97). Brandin’s later article (1929) discusses the often tenuous relationship of events in the romance with historical fact (“Nouvelles” 23–24), and argued against Wright, claiming that Leland’s verse version was not the predecessor of the extant prose version (32). Brandin outlined the variants between the English verse version summarized by Leland and the French prose, concluding that they did not come from the same source (34–37). In his own edition the next year, he concluded that the extant copy of the romance was the work of two scribes and that the prose version dates to shortly after 1314 (Fouke iii–iv).

During the middle third of the twentieth century, criticism of the romance focused mainly on its relationship with history and legend. Sidney Painter argued that because of the many errors of fact, the author “had no direct contact with Fulk IV or Fulk V” and that perhaps the author wrote in response to public demand (“Sources” 15). Urban T.

Holmes suggested that the romance “may have had some association with the early Robin

Hood ballads” (183), and Ingrid Benecke took up the outlaw theme, showing that Fouke le Fitz Waryn belongs to a class of romances in which the protagonist is forced by his

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moral code to turn outlaw. Benecke justified the actions of Fouke in turning against his liege lord (155–60).

In 1975, the landmark Anglo-Norman Text Society edition of Fouke le Fitz

Waryn appeared, edited by E. J. Hathaway, P. T. Ricketts, C. A. Robson, and A. D.

Wilshere. This, the first edition to be published in many years, includes an extensive introduction covering the historical background, the sources and parallels, the theme of outlawry, the manuscript and its language, as well as notes on the text. The editors assert that the author of the lost French verse romance was a poet of Ludlow (xxxv) and that the scribe of the prose version was also its remanieur (xxxvii).

Most recent criticism of the romance has focused on its outlaw theme and possible connection with Robin Hood. Glyn S. Burgess is the foremost critic interested in these issues. Burgess compares Eustace the Monk with Fouke le Fitz Waryn, noting that both concern protagonists based on real people who disguise themselves as charcoal- burners and reverse their horses’ shoes, and that both stories include King John and the

French King Philip Augustus (Two ix). He includes extensive documentary information about Fouke as a historical figure, pointing out events in the romances that are at odds with the historical records (92–107). Burgess concludes elsewhere that, although a number of women in the romance have crucial roles, none of their marriages are based on love (“Women” 91). Finally, Burgess discusses the historical Randulf of Chester, suggesting that he could have been included in Fouke le Fitz Waryn because he was already well known in other outlaw tales (“I kan” 62). He asserts, in addition, that there is a strong possibility that Fouke le Fitz Waryn was “the prototype of, or even the

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original, Robin Hood” (77). Other recent criticism has also focused on the romance and its relationship to the Robin Hood legend. Thomas E. Kelly (1998) published an English translation of the romance. In his introduction, he concludes that “[s]ome of the incidents in Fouke fitz Waryn and A Gest of Robyn Hode are . . . too close to be accounted for by

‘common tradition’ or coincidence” (111). W. F. Prideaux also argues for the close connection of Fouke le Fitz Waryn and the Robin Hood tradition, in this case emphasizing in particular the names that the two have in common.

Early criticism of the romance was particularly concerned with its relationship to history. Later writings have emphasized its nature as an outlaw tale and as a possible source for the legend of Robin Hood. Occasionally an article is written concerning some other aspect of the romance: whether or not the Fitz Waryn family had a relationship with the author or the remanieur; whether or not the protagonist was within his legal rights to break with the king; and how to define the role of women within the romance, for example. Scholars continue to be interested in this half-historical, half-fictional tale.

King Horn

King Horn has attracted the most scholarly attention of the works discussed in this dissertation. This interest has been fairly consistent for most of the past century, peaking in the 1980s. Much of the early work was published in the form of editions and of comparisons with Thomas’s Anglo-Norman Romance of Horn, but there have been later articles and notes on other aspects of the poem as well.

In the nineteenth century, Ritson, Michel, and J. Rawson Lumby all published editions of King Horn. Ritson’s work (1802) included a short introduction and several

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pages of notes in Volume 3 and the text itself in Volume 2. The three-volume set was revised and republished by Goldsmid in 1885, but the changes are negligible. Ritson’s base text was the only one known at that time: that found in Harley 2253. In the third volume of the 1802 edition, he declared King Horn to be an abridgement of the Romance of Horn (267), but otherwise, his edition is now of limited use. In 1845, Michel’s ambitious edition compared the four versions of the Horn story, including an edition of

Cambridge University Library Gg.4.27 as the base text for King Horn, with notes giving the variants of the other two manuscripts. This work was superseded by that of Lumby

(1866), which was revised by George H. McKnight and most recently republished by the

Early English Text Society in 1962. Lumby included all three versions of King Horn, as well as an introduction, notes, and glossary. He reviewed all four versions of the Horn story, comparing, in particular, the Romance of Horn to King Horn, and concluding that, although neither could be derived from the other, “quite probably Thomas, the French romancer, may have been influenced to some extent by this English version” (xii).

In 1901, Joseph Hall published his groundbreaking edition of King Horn. This book, still considered by many to be the definitive edition, includes all three texts in parallel columns and a lengthy introduction, copious notes, and an extensive glossary.

He examined each of the texts, commenting on the skills and habits of the three scribes, and presenting his schema concerning the relationship of the manuscripts, as well as a table showing the names used in the three versions of King Horn and those of two of the other three versions of the Horn story (the Romance of Horn and Horn Childe, omitting

Hind Horn). He argued that King Horn was not derived from the Anglo-Norman

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romance (liii), and that none of the three versions of King Horn is the source of any of the others (xiv).

A number of articles have appeared discussing the sources of the romance. In

1931, Walter Oliver argued intriguingly that, although most scholars place the action of

King Horn in the south of England and possibly Ireland, there is a good case for placing the story in southern Scotland. In particular, he pointed to a number of geographical landmarks that seemed to relate linguistically to the name of Horn and to place-names that are similar to those found in the poem, such as “Southdean,” which he said used to be pronounced very much like “Sudenne” (109). Other critics, however, do not seem to have followed Oliver’s lead on this theory. Walter H. French published what he called “a reconstructed text” of that found in Cambridge University Library MS Gg. 4. 27 (2), in

1940 (153). He argued strongly that King Horn is a lay (2–15), that the story is essentially Germanic, “probably Norse” (149), and that its immediate source was “a

Norman-French lai, produced on the Border and much the same in style and substance” as King Horn (143). Mildred K. Pope builds on her well-known expertise in Romance of

Horn scholarship, arguing (contrary to French), that French lais could not have served as the source of the Romance of Horn, specifically because the Romance presumably predates the work of Marie de France, “probably creator of the Lais” (166). She suggests, instead, that the source of both King Horn and the Romance of Horn was

English, particularly because of the pun on Horn’s name in the former and a reference to it in the latter work (166–67).

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There followed a facsimile edition and several studies that address the structure and methodology of King Horn itself. A facsimile of the complete text of Harley 2253’s version of the poem became available for the first time in 1965, the work of N. R. Ker.

D. M. Hill considers the use of symbols in the poem, noting that “Aþulf and Fikenhild are aspects of Horn’s character,” and that Fikenhild represents Horn’s self-deception (162,

165). The sea journeys, he says, serve the purpose of “each marking a step in his development” as a medieval knight (164). James R. Hurt applies the Parry-Lord theory of oral-formulaic composition to the poem in an attempt to show that it is derived from oral sources. He concludes that “King Horn seems likely to have been, at some point in its history before it was written down, an oral-formulaic poem in the strict sense of the term” (58). Mary Hynes-Berry focuses rightly on the fact that King Horn emphasizes action; that there is very little narrative, and that the dialogue is only as much as is necessary to get the point across. Repeatedly, either the narrator or Horn says what Horn will do, then Horn does it: “Interest in King Horn is in the action, not in why or in the details of how something is done, but in the fact that heroes do what they say they will do, that they do what must be done” (653–54). Georgianna Ziegler divides the poem into four structural sections: destruction, learning, initiation, and reconstruction, showing how

Horn develops in each section, often by means of repeated actions or episodes. Susan

Dannenbaum [hereafter cited as Susan Crane, the name under which she now publishes], in her enlightening 1981 note “‘Fairer Bi One Ribbe / Þane Eni Man þat Libbe’,” explains what is meant by this couplet, unique in Middle English literature and often considered to be a crux. As Crane explains, “The couplet means simply that Horn’s

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physical perfection exceeds that of ordinary men as Adam’s and Christ’s perfect bodies, created directly by God, exceeded those of ordinary men” (117).

A new edition of King Horn appeared in 1984: that of Rosamund Allen based on the version found in Cambridge University Library MS. Gg. 4. 27 (2). Allen’s edition is unique in providing an introduction that includes detailed analysis of scribal variation, as well as notes, variants, and a glossary. She argues that the scribe of the Harley 2253 text had access to a better version of the poem than did the other scribes, and that he had

“total or nearly total memory of several romances,” as she deduces based on his ability to emend lines so that they appear to be correct (30–31).

A number of articles focused primarily on narrative technique in the poem and another edition soon followed. Kenneth E. Gadomski argues that the narrator of King

Horn is nearly invisible, and that “we are responsible, through his guidance, for building upon the narrative and dramatizing the action within ourselves” (138). Esha Niyogi De writes that, although the narrator fails to tell us overtly what the characters’ motivations are, a medieval audience would have recognized the clues in the text and been able to understand why things happen. He argues that the audience’s “pre-established cultural and generic expectations” would assist them in this (160). Anne Scott returns to the oral tradition, asserting that “King Horn can best be seen as a work which was at least partly composed in writing but which was built upon an oral foundation” (40). She explains that its oral background can be seen in such elements as the poem’s emphasis on traditional values, portrayal of the extremes of good and evil, and the “larger-than-life portrayal of its hero to assist in the task of teaching its audience about certain values”

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(45). Diane Speed declares that the Saracens in King Horn come from the chanson de geste tradition, and that the poem itself has a number of characteristics of that genre (591,

593). Finally, the most recent edition of King Horn appeared, that of Elaine Treharne in her 2004 anthology of medieval English literature. For this edition she uses the text of

Harley 2253, includes a very brief introduction, and provides helpful marginal glosses of the more difficult words.

King Horn has been the subject of numerous editions, as well as debates concerning its origins and its relationship to the other Horn stories. Some argue that the work was originally written, some that it was oral, while many conclude that it is a combination of the two. This many-faceted romance continues to fascinate scholars and readers alike.

Conclusion

Study of the four romances has been hampered by the lack of exemplars and editions. In none of the cases discussed above, as far as we know, do we possess the original version of the tale, and rarely is one version definitively derived from another.

This problem requires scholars to hypothesize intermediary versions in order to explain the relationships of manuscripts. One often cannot determine which parts of a text were changed, inadvertently or intentionally, by a particular scribe. Also, some versions of the romances receive more attention than others; for example, Marie de France’s version of the Purgatoire s. Patrice is probably the best known because it is attributed to her.

Finally, some versions of these texts have never been edited and published because others are considered to be superior—or are simply more popular—with the result that criticism

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of these is meager. I will discuss in more detail the manuscript histories, variant versions, and textual relationships of each romance in the following four chapters. This information, in turn, will help to clarify the importance of the emendations that the

Ludlow scribe might have made to the texts.

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Notes

1 The underlining is in red ink; it is not possible to determine, by simple observation,

whether or not it is the work of the Ludlow scribe. The names of actual kings are

underlined, beginning with Egbryth in line 412. Generally, even if the man was named earlier in the text, his name is not underlined until he becomes king. The purpose of the underlining seems to be to make it easier to locate the beginning of each king’s reign. I

argue that, had the scribe wished to point up the significance of the names, he could have

rubricated them or added space in his text to make the names stand out. For these

reasons, I believe the underlining to be the work of a later reader.

CHAPTER III

PURGATOIRE S. PATRICE

The Purgatoire s. Patrice, ca. 1314–15, is among the very earliest of the writings

of any type in any of the three manuscripts by the Ludlow scribe of Harley 2253 (Revard,

“Scribe” 67–68). This Anglo-Norman work, a translation and redaction of a monastic

Latin work, exhibits a number of his proclivities. He emphasizes the importance of

leading a Christian life, and of right action. Also, he alters the story to downplay the

monastic aspects and to focus on the narrative, thereby making it much more of a

romance than the previous versions. Finally, he adds scientific and technical detail,

arguably making for a slightly more scholarly version of the story.

Synopsis

This romance tells the story of St. Patrick’s Purgatory and the adventure of a

sinful Irish knight, Owein, who willingly goes into purgatory in order to save his soul.1

The story begins with a prologue by the translator, saying he was asked to translate the

story from Latin in order to comfort and improve its readers.

St. Patrick (5th c.?) preaches in Ireland, and God loves him so greatly that He

refuses him nothing he wishes for the people. The people listen to Patrick’s stories, but

cannot believe without seeing for themselves the joys of heaven and the torments of hell or of purgatory. Jesus Christ takes Patrick to a place called “Reglis” and shows him a

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deep pit or cavern, saying whoever enters and stays a day and a night would see both the

torments and the joys, and if the person kept faith, would come out, absolved of all sin,

the next day. Patrick builds a monastery and puts a wall around the cavern’s entrance.

The cavern is called St. Patrick’s Purgatory because it serves to purge people of their sins. People go into purgatory; some return, some do not. What follows is the story of one of these people.

During the reign of King Stephen, a knight, Owein, repents of his sins and asks to go to purgatory.2 He does what is required in order to gain approval for the adventure,

finally arriving at the monastery where he spends fifteen days in prayer. The next day, he

attends mass and takes communion before being led in a procession to purgatory’s

entrance. The prior tells him that, after he enters, he will walk through a field, enter a

large hall, and meet good people—the representatives of God—who will tell him what to

do. This sequence happens as the prior describes. Just after Owein arrives in the large,

beautiful room, fifteen men in white come to him, telling him that afterwards devils will

tempt him, show him many sights and make him promises, but he must always refuse to

believe them. When their temptations and torments become too much, he is to call on the

name of Jesus Christ for protection. The fifteen men bless him and depart.

Soon afterward, a band of devils arrives noisily, grimacing and mocking the

knight, trying to obtain his agreement. They say he has long served them, and if he

agrees to turn back, they will lead him safely back the way he came. He remains mute.

The devils become angry, binding him and throwing him onto a fire. He asks mercy of

Jesus Christ and the fire goes out. The devils next take him to a field of torment where

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men and women are lying face down on the ground, arms outstretched, with burning

stakes piercing their hands and feet. The devils run from one to another, scourging the

backs of the people, who beg for mercy. The devils say the knight will have the same

unless he turns back. He refuses, so they begin to torment him until he calls on Jesus

Christ and is saved. Next, he is taken to another field where he finds people staked to the

earth with burning iron stakes, and with a snake, toad, or other loathsome creature

perched atop each person, biting and sucking that person’s blood. The devils threaten

Owein, but the knight stays firm; they seize him and throw him to the ground, but he cries to Jesus Christ and is saved.

The devils continue trying to obtain Owein’s agreement by showing him more

people in distress. They take the knight to a bigger field where he sees people face up,

nude, oozing blood and fastened to the ground with many burning stakes, devils

tormenting them. Owein is asked again to do the devils’ bidding; he refuses, so they

snatch him, preparing to torture him, until he calls on Jesus Christ and is saved. In the

fourth field, he sees people skewered on burning stakes, some high, some low; others are

on grills, and some are pierced with many swords. The devils ask again, and again the

knight refuses. They try to take him away, but he calls on Jesus Christ and is saved. The

devils then take Owein to a field containing many giant wheels covered in nails and

hooks. On each wheel are fastened more than one hundred people. Beneath each wheel

is a fire; at the top is intense cold. Devils spin the wheels quickly, each movement

causing excruciating pain to the people fixed to the machines. The devils ask again, and

Owein refuses, so they attach him to a wheel before he calls on Jesus Christ and is saved.

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The devils then take him to a very smoky place and show him a large house, telling him it

is a bathhouse. Inside, the house contains many pits full of boiling metals: tin, gold, and

others. Some people are entirely submerged, some only partly so, and some have only a

hand or foot in the molten metal. All are wailing. The knight is again threatened, again refuses, and again calls on Jesus Christ and is saved. Owein is taken to a mountain where he sees many people, nude, nailed upright through their hands and feet to stakes. The wind suddenly rises, carrying the tormented people off the mountain and into a verminous black river in the valley. When they try to climb out, devils push them in again. The knight is threatened, refuses, prays, and is saved.

The devils tell Owein that they will show him hell. They take him to a place where a giant, stinking flame spouts from a pit up to a great height, carrying people with

it; when the victims arrive at the top, they fall again into the hole. The devils say that the pit is the entrance to hell. They bind him and carry him into the pit; this time he is fearful and nearly in despair. They throw him into the flame. He calls on Jesus and is again saved. New devils replace the old, saying the previous ones lied; the new ones claim they will truly show him hell. They take him to where there is an ugly, stinking, burning river crossed by a steep bridge, declaring that the bridge is steep, narrow, and shaky, so if he tries to cross, he will fall into hell. He calls on Jesus Christ and steps onto the bridge,

which becomes wider as he goes on. He crosses the bridge and finds himself in a

beautiful place.

The knight sees a high wall with a door of fabulous metals and gems. The door

opens and a procession of religious and lay people, dressed in many colors, comes out.

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Two bishops speak to the knight, saying he is now in the earthly paradise, where Adam lived before his fall from grace. They go on to say that of those who die, some go to hell, some to purgatory, and some to heaven. When souls are released from purgatory, they spend a greater or lesser time in the earthly paradise, depending on their merits, before gaining admission to heaven. Owein is taken to a mountain and shown the entrance to heaven. For one hour each day the residents of the earthly paradise are given heavenly food in the form of a brilliant flame and are filled with God’s love. The people in heaven live on it always. Owein is told that if he lives well, good things will happen to him; if not, he will be in torment. The knight wants to stay, but is told he must go back to earth and continue living. He is led back to the door of the earthly paradise and let out after being told that the devils will now flee him. He returns to the beautiful room and the fifteen men again arrive. His sins are purged, they tell him; they counsel him to live a good life, and then they depart. He climbs out of the pit of purgatory and is let out the door, exactly twenty-four hours from the time he entered. He is taken to the church, where he again spends fifteen days.

Owein takes the cross, goes to the Holy Land, returns, becomes a monk, serves

God and man in saintly fashion, and eventually dies. An epilogue follows, advising readers that if they ask for forgiveness and truly repent, no matter how bad their sins, they will be saved.

Transmission History

According to the romance itself, the story actually happened some time before it was written, and there is some historical evidence that part of it, at least, may be true.

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The synopsis above concerns the story as told in Harley 273, but this is one of the shortest of the ten extant versions (two Latin, five French, and three English), and much

detail is omitted here that is found in other versions. The text found in British Library

MS Royal 13.B.VIII is considered by H. L. D. Ward to be the base text for the group of

Latin prose manuscripts containing the “long” version of the story, as well as others in

the group. According to this text, after Owein’s adventure, he is at the court of his king

when Gervase, Abbot (from about 1147) of Louth, obtains permission from the king to

build a monastery in Ireland (Ward 2:435–36). He then sends a monk, Gilbert, later

Abbot (from about 1159) of Basingwerk, to supervise the construction. Gilbert, speaking no Irish, asks the king for assistance. The king appoints Owein to serve as translator to

the Cistercian monks during the two-and-a-half-year construction period. During this

time, Owein tells Gilbert of his adventure in purgatory. Gilbert returns to England, often

recounting Owein’s story (Warnke 140–44; Picard 72–73).3 A monk named Henry is

then asked by Abbot H. to write the story down; he does so, and produces the Tractatus

de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii (Warnke 2, 168; Picard 78). Ward, considering the

historical evidence, stated unequivocally that “Owen [sic] visited the Purgatory in 1153”

(2:437), and most critics agree that the Tractatus dates to “sometime after 1185”

(Easting, “Date and Dedication” 778).4 Robert Easting, the foremost scholar now

studying St. Patrick’s Purgatory in its various versions, asserts that if indeed there was a

historical Owein, he visited the Purgatory in about 1147 (“Access” 80). Although there is

disagreement among versions of the tale about whether the knight went to the Holy Land

as a crusader or a pilgrim, Easting declares that he went as a pilgrim, adding that he could

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have gone during the Second Crusade of 1147–49 (“Owein” 166–67).5 He also argues that Henry wrote the Tractatus sometime between 1181 and 1184 (“Access” 80). In the prologue of both the long and short versions of the story, the author of the Tractatus styles himself “frater .H. monachorum de Salteria minimis” [Brother H., least of the monks of Saltrey] (Warnke 2). Saltrey was a Cistercian abbey in Huntingdonshire

(Jenkins 2). The “H” was expanded to “Henricus” by Matthew Paris in the thirteenth century (Paris 192). Although there is no evidence to show that the author’s name actually was “Henricus,” he is conventionally named as “Henry of Sawtry” or “Saltrey”

(Easting, “Date” 779, note 7), a practice I will follow here. The Tractatus is dedicated by

Brother H. to “.H., abbati de Sartis” [H., Abbot of Sartis] in both the long and short versions (Warnke 2). In 1965, F. W. Locke identified this man as the seventh abbot of

Sartis, an abbey sometimes called Warden or Wardon. According to Locke, Abbot

Henricus left Sartis is 1215 and died in Rievaulx in 1216. Since the sixth abbot was still alive in 1208, he argues that the Tractatus must have been written after 1208 and before

Abbot H.’s departure on April 8, 1215 (645–46). Easting disagrees, asserting that the

Tractatus was dedicated to Hugh, abbot of Sartis/Wardon (Saltrey’s motherhouse, in

Bedfordshire), who served in that capacity between 1173 and 1185/86. In 1978, Easting dated the Tractatus to 1179–81 (“Date” 780; “Middle English Translations” 170–71), but by 2006 he had changed the probable period of composition to 1181–84 (“Access” 80).

The text was repeatedly copied and quickly disseminated throughout Europe, first in Latin, then in other languages. In Latin alone, “[a]t least 150 manuscripts survive, as well as an equivalent number of manuscripts of vernacular translations” (Easting,

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“South” 120). The Latin manuscripts vary widely. All contain the basic story, but there

are many variations, additions, and omissions so that it is impossible to know which is

closest to the original. Ward examined the manuscript holdings of the British Museum,

detailing the romance contents in a three-volume work. Volume two, published in 1893, discusses the manuscripts containing the Tractatus and its vernacular translations. Ward

grouped the Latin texts, all in prose, into two categories based on the versions appearing

in Royal 13.B.VIII and Arundel 292, both manuscripts from the late thirteenth century.

The Royal group contains the “long version” of the story; the Arundel group, the “short version,” as they became known. Royal 13.B.VIII contains twenty-six chapters, a prologue, an epilogue, and two homilies (435–36), although Ward suggested the homilies might be interpolations (445). Arundel 292, however, contains only nineteen chapters with no prologue, no epilogue, and no homilies (452). Ward’s classification is not based either on the amount of monastic material contained in the text, nor on the length of the text, but rather on the way specific passages are rendered. Ward provided three “test passages” showing both the Royal and Arundel versions so that one can compare these to any given version of the story to help decide to which group the version belongs (453).

Royal, named above, happens to contain more monastic material and is longer than

Arundel. In fact some of the “short” versions do contain monastic material, and some of

the long versions do not contain all of it.

The Tractatus was written for a monastic audience, the vernacular translations for

the laity. Although Easting is writing specifically about the later English translations,

what he says can apply equally to a number of the versions of the story: the homilies

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were omitted; also omitted were “Henry of Sawtry’s Dedication, Prologue and Epilogue,

all the exemplary tales which Henry recounts to substantiate his main narrative, and the

historical account of how he came to learn of the story of Owein from Gilbert of

Basingwerk” (“Middle English Translations” 154). C. M. van der Zanden asserted that

the original story was short, but that as it was copied and recopied, details were added

that would be of interest to the monastic community, such as certain anecdotes and admonishments. When the work was translated from Latin into various vernacular languages, many of these additions, since they were not of interest to the laity, were

removed. In this fashion, he argued, some of these later versions are very close to the earliest ones (46). Yolande de Pontfarcy similarly insists that the Latin story was written in two phases. The short version, she asserts, was written in 1184 when H. de Sartis was still the abbot; had it been written later, she writes, it would have been mentioned by certain other authors of the time. The second, long, “amplified” version was written between 1186 and 1188 or 1190 at the latest. This conclusion is based partly on the mention of Bishop Florentianus near the end of the long versions of the book; he became bishop in 1185 (464–65). Finally, although both the long and short versions frequently omit parts of the material (Easting, “Middle English Translations” 153), Easting argues that the short version and the shorter texts of the long version “both derive from a longer original,” that is, one of the longer texts of the long version (“South” 122).

When Ward differentiated between his two groups, he simply classified the texts by noting, for example, “This copy is of the same class as Royal 13 B. viii” (455), “This text belongs to the same class as that of Royal 13 B. viii” (456), etc. This classification

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became unwieldy for later scholars, and some doubtless took issue with the application of the often inaccurate terms “short” and “long,” so they began referring to Ward’s groups as α and β. Unfortunately, since Ward did not assign these designations, nor anything like them, later writers disagree about which group should be designated which way.

Both Thomas Atkinson Jenkins, writing in 1897 (6), and Van der Zanden in 1927 (77), for instance, used α to designate the class of Royal 13.B.VIII. Easting, however, who has written more than anyone else on the Tractatus and its translations, consistently uses α to designate the other version, that of Arundel 292 (St Patrick’s ix). In this study, I will follow Easting’s designations (see Figure 1).

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α Class of Manuscripts β Class of Manuscripts (“short” version) (“long” version)

Latin: (1) London, BL MS Arundel 292 (1) London, BL MS Royal 13 B viii (2) Utrecht, University Library, MS 173 (2) München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, et al. C. L. 15745 (3) Paris, BN Lat. 13434 et al.

A-N: Marie: Paris, BN fr. 25407, formerly Notre-Dame 277 (ca. 1190)*

Anon 2: (1) London, BL MS Harley 273 Berol: (1) New Haven, Yale University (2) Paris, BN fr. 2198 Library, MS 395, formerly (ca. 1200)* Phillips 4156 (2) Tours, Bibliothèque Municipale MS 948 (acephalous) (13th C.)*

Anon 1: (1) Cambridge University Library Ee.6.11 (2) London, BL MS Lansdowne 383 (fragment) (ca. 1250–1300)*

Anon 3: (1) London, BL MS Cotton Domitian A.IV (2) Paris, BN fr. 25545 (continental French translation) (late 13th C.)*

English: pa: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS OM1: (1) Auchinleck MS, National Library Laud. Misc. 108 (et al.) of Scotland, MS Advocates’ (late 13th C.)* 19.2.1 (acephalous) (2) Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Eng. Poet. D.208 (fragment) (early 14th C.)*

OM2: (1) London, BL Cotton Caligula A ii (2) Yale University Library MS 365 (early 15th C)*

Fig. 1 The Classes and Versions of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patriciia

Sources: Robert Easting, “The South English Legendary ‘St Patrick’ as Translation,” in

Leeds Studies in English 21 (1990), 124.

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Robert Easting, ed., St. Patrick’s Purgatory: Two Versions of Owayne Miles and The

Vision of William of Stranton together with the Long Text of the Tractatus de

Purgatorio Sancti Patricii, EETS os 298 (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1991), ix, xix–xx,

xliv, xlvii.

Marianne Mörner, ed., Le Purgatoire de saint Patrice par Bérol (Lund, Swed.: Ph.

Lindstedt, 1917), xxii.

Johan Vising, “Le Purgatoire de Saint Patrice: Des manuscrits Harléien 273 et fonds

français 2198” in Gőteborgs Hőgskolas Årsskrift 21 (1915), 4.

H. L. D. Ward, Catalogue of Romances in the Department of Manuscripts in the British

Museum, vol. 2 (1893) (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1962), 444–45,

459, 461.

Karle Warnke, Das Buch vom Espurgatoire S. Patrice der Marie de France und seine

Quelle (Halle/Saale, Ger.: M. Niemeyer, 1938), viii.

aAn asterisk (*) indicates the date of the version’s translation.

The popular Latin Tractatus was soon translated into Anglo-Norman French, of which five independent versions survive, all in verse. The earliest of these translations was, according to Ruth J. Dean and Maureen B. M. Boulton, the Espurgatoire Seint

Patriz by Marie de France. This poem “seems to have [been] written shortly after 1189” and is composed in 2302 lines in octosyllabic couplets. It exists in one manuscript only,

Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, fonds français 25407 (302–03). The manuscript, formerly known as Notre-Dame 277, dates to the late thirteenth or early fourteenth century

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(Jenkins 17); Dean and Boulton date it to ca. 1275–1300 (303). Marie’s translation is “by far and away the longest” of the Anglo-Norman versions (Pike 43). The attribution to

Marie is largely based on the contents of lines 2297–2300 and is generally accepted:

Jo, Marie, ai mis, en memoire,

le livre de l’Espurgatoire

en Romanz, qu’il seit entendables

a laie gent e covenables. (Warnke)

[I, Marie, have put

The Book of Purgatory into French,

As a record, so that it might be intelligible

And suited to lay folk.] (Curley 171)

Marie’s version, “from indications, is two or three removes from the original, and somewhat carelessly written,” according to Jenkins (vi). He declares this to be the oldest of Marie’s works because, among other reasons, “it shows a grade of literary skill distinctly inferior to that displayed in both the Lays and the Fables”; he remarks specifically “the frequent employment . . . of stereotyped phrases where the meaning gains nothing by their use” such as “nel dutez pas” [do not doubt it] in lines 300 and 734, and “c’en est la sume” [that’s the whole of it] in lines 53, 703, and 2132, as well as “the not infrequent use of the same word as the rimeword of both lines of the couplet”; additionally, he finds in the Espurgatoire “a slightly older type of speech” than in

Marie’s other works (14–15). Roberta L. Krueger, however, expresses the more common view that this work was probably the last of Marie’s known works and is considered, “by

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many critics, as her least original” (179). Her text is very close to that found in Arundel

292 (Jenkins 9), which puts it in the α class, but she omits the homilies and adds anecdotes at the end of the story from β (Easting, “South” 124).

The second Anglo-Norman version, according to Dean and Boulton, is attributed to “Bérol” or “Béroul,” probably not the same Béroul who wrote a version of Tristan.

The poem is a thirteenth-century translation that consists of 221 four-line stanzas (885 lines total) in monorhyme and appears in two manuscripts: New Haven, Yale University

Library, MS 395, formerly Phillips 4156, an Anglo-Norman text missing the first ninety lines (ca. 1250–1275), and Tours, Bibliothèque Municipale MS 948 (ca. 1275–1300), copied in southeastern France. It is from the last line of the Yale manuscript that we know the author was Bérol (303). Marianne Mörner, who published the first edition of this version in 1917, declared the Yale text to be “très incorrect au point de vue métrique”

[very incorrect metrically]; she referred to the ignorance and the carelessness of the scribe (Le Purgatoire . . . par Bérol xiii). In addition, she declared the author of this version to be Anglo-Norman (xxxviii). The two texts are independent of each other, she said, and are probably not copied from the same source; the common source was, in her opinion, somewhat further removed (xiii–xiv). Despite the faults of Bérol’s version, M.

Dominica Legge contends that it is the most important of the Anglo-Norman translations:

“This is at once an abridged and enlarged version. The expansions consist of moralizations, a description of Ireland, and, most important, an account of the sins of

Owen” (Anglo-Norman 240). This version, according to Mörner, belongs to Ward’s β

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class, and is a rather liberal translation (Le Purgatoire . . . par Bérol xxii, xxvi). The

remaining three Anglo-Norman versions of the Tractatus are anonymous.

Dean and Boulton’s “First Anonymous Version” is in 1790 octosyllabic lines in couplets and dates from the second half of the thirteenth century. It is found in

Cambridge, University Library MS Ee.6.11 and London, British Library MS Lansdowne

383, both ca. 1200–1250, the latter being one leaf only (304). According to Easting, this

version is based on a text in the β group (“Middle English Translations” 161–62; St.

Patrick’s xlvii).

Dean and Boulton’s “Second Anonymous Version” is the subject of this chapter.

It is dated ca. 1200 and consists of 859 octosyllabic lines in couplets. It is found in

London, British Library MS Harley 273 and in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, fonds

français 2198 (304). Revard dates the copying of the text in Harley 273 to ca. 1314–15

(“Scribe” 58). Johan Vising, who edited the only published edition of this version,

argued that both manuscripts derive from the same lost Anglo-Norman text because the

same mistakes appear in both, but that they are independent of each other. Where they

differ, generally Harley 273 is the better text (5–6). Vising noted that this is the only

Anglo-Norman work in the continental French manuscript, and that its copying is more

remote in time from the original than that of Harley 273. Additionally, he found that the

French scribe had trouble with the Anglo-Norman dialect; although the Anglo-Norman

scribe understood the rhyme, the French scribe “a dû considérer cette versification

comme fautive toutes les fois que les vers ne sont pas construits selon les règles

ordinaires du continent” [had to have considered the versification faulty every time that

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the verses were not constructed according to the ordinary rules of the Continent] (8). The

French scribe also was apparently unfamiliar with the British name “Owein,” so every

time he came to the name, he omitted it from the text as he copied (Vising 59, note to line

87). Vising claimed that this version is ultimately derived from a text in the α group,

since it resembles both Arundel 292 and London, British Library MS Harley 3846, which

are nearly identical to each other. The prologue and an epilogue are unique to this

version (4).

Dean and Boulton’s “Third Anonymous Version” is in 1766 octosyllabic lines in

couplets. It is found in one manuscript only, London, British Library MS Cotton

Domitian A.IV, from the late thirteenth century (305). Van der Zanden gave the date of the text as the first half of the thirteenth century (57). According to Easting, it is a translation from the β group, only omitting the two homilies (“South” 124). This version has never been published, so for the discussion that follows I will be using the late thirteenth-century continental French translation of it found in Paris, Bibliothèque

Nationale, fonds français 25545, edited by Mörner (Le Purgatoire . . . du manuscript

305). The French is Francien, perhaps from Champagne (Mörner xxvi–xxvii). It consists of 1057 lines in couplets.

Finally, there are three independent Middle English translations of the Tractatus, all in verse. According to Easting, the earliest of these translations is a version in 673 long lines in couplets known as “pa” and appears under “St. Patrick” in the South English

Legendary of the late thirteenth century (“Middle English Translations” 152). The

Legendary is found in a large number of manuscripts, notably Oxford, Bodleian Library,

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MS Laud. Misc. 108. This version is the most faithful of the three English translations and is derived from an α text. However, as Easting notes, it “de-emphasizes the monastic text’s presentation of Owein as miles Christi” (154–55, 159). It is not derived from any of the known Anglo-Norman or French versions; Easting argues, rather, that it is translated from a Latin text (“South” 121). British Library, MS Harley 4012 contains a quatrain version of the story that is based on pa (Easting, “Middle English ‘Hearne’”

437).

The second and third English versions are both entitled Owayne Miles and are known as OM1 and OM2, respectively. OM1 is an early-fourteenth-century translation found in the ca. 1330–1340 Auchinleck Manuscript, National Library of Scotland, MS

Advocates’ 19.2.1 (Easting, St. Patrick’s xix), and in a fragment that probably dates to the fifteenth century (Easting, “St. Patrick’s” 84). The first part of Auchinleck is missing, probably due to the excision of a miniature (Easting, St. Patrick’s xix). OM1 is in tail- rhyme stanza form (Easting, “English” 66); it “probably originally contained 203 six-line stanzas” and is derived from the first anonymous Anglo-Norman version, Easting argues

(St. Patrick’s xliv–xlvi). OM1 is a condensed version of the Anglo-Norman, but with additions, making it, says Easting, “by far the most elaborately developed of the Middle

English versions” (“Middle English Translations” 162–63). Among other additions, this version contains “passages detailing the sins punished (one should say purged) by each of the torments Owein encounters” (Easting, “English” 63). The fifteenth-century OM1

fragment, found in a 1522 bookbinding and now part of Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS

Eng. Poet. D.208, is an inferior text. Easting notes, “We have a textbook case here of

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how a text can degenerate” (“St. Patrick’s” 84–85). The last English version, OM2, probably dates to the early fifteenth century (Easting, “English” 62) and is found in two manuscripts, London, British Library MS Cotton Caligula A ii (mid-fifteenth century) and Yale University Library MS 365, “the Book of Brome” (Easting, “Middle English

Translations” 152–53). Both are in octosyllabic couplets; Cotton, with 682 lines, (Ward

482) is missing part of the description of purgatory, while Yale has many small omissions

(Easting, “Middle English Translations” 167). Easting declares Yale inferior to Cotton:

“its metre is frequently faulty; there are many false readings; and the nature of the numerous and scattered omissions, transpositions, and other errors seems to indicate that

[this manuscript], or one of its antecedent copies, was written from memory” (St.

Patrick’s lxiii). Unlike pa, Both OM1 and OM2 are ultimately derived from texts of the

β class (Easting, St. Patrick’s xix–xx). All three Middle English versions, however, are similar overall. They all concentrate on St. Patrick’s founding of the site of purgatory and on Owein’s adventure in purgatory and subsequent history. Omitted from all three versions are the digressions, homilies, and preaching common to the more monastic versions of the story (Easting, “South” 123).

Before closing, a few words should be said concerning the continuing influence of the Tractatus and its many translations on the world outside literature. The twelfth and thirteenth centuries was a crucial period in the formation of Church doctrine. Mary

Horrox states that:

In theological terms, the twelfth century saw the beginnings of the

formalization of the concept of Purgatory: a halfway stage between earth

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and Heaven, where the sinful but repentant soul could, through purgatorial

or cleansing punishment, complete the process of making satisfaction for

sin and so be rendered fit for Heaven. The doctrine [of purgatory] was

promulgated in this developed form at the second Council of Lyons in

1274, but it took time to percolate through all social levels, and there is

reason to think that the process was not complete until well into the

fourteenth century. (90)

Previously, “the afterlife . . . had been the realm of stasis” (Bynum 14). Purgatory, however, gave souls a chance to improve after death; it was “progressive” (Bynum 290).

Jacques Le Goff, in The Birth of Purgatory, declares that “the idea of Purgatory [was] born” in the Tractatus (24). In fact, writes Jenkins, the Tractatus “formed the basis of nearly all the numerous notices and brief descriptions of [St. Patrick’s Purgatory] and its wonders which are frequent in mediaeval writers” (3). Between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, “preaching as well as formal theology paid increasing attention to an

‘in-between’ time and place for the separated soul” (Bynum 280). The idea of purgatory and this book, in particular, were extremely popular and inspired many people, perhaps not always in the way the Cistercians intended. The Purgatory became associated with

Station Island, Lough Derg, County Donegal, Ireland (Easting, “Owein” 159). Although the Tractatus makes no mention of a specific site, this particular location on Lough Derg appears to have been mentioned first in connection with Saint Patrick in the twelfth century (Cunningham and Gillespie 168), and “Pilgrims poured in to this remote Irish lake from every corner of Europe, many of them, we believe, motivated less by devotion

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to rigorous spiritual discipline than by a desire for a more sensational kind of experience”

(Curley 14). The cave at St. Patrick’s Purgatory was supposedly destroyed in 1497 on the recommendation of the Pope. This cave, however, was not the true Purgatory cave

(the Augustinians, who then had charge of the site, apparently had a number of caves for

the use of pilgrims). According to Michael J. Curley, “Whatever the case, this first act of

suppression had negligible impact on pilgrimage to Saint Patrick’s Purgatory. Alexander

VI’s act of suppression was formally revoked in 1522” (18). As late as 1727, at least, the

traditional pilgrimage involved a ten-day ritual, ending with the prior sealing the pilgrims

in the cave for twenty-four hours (Cunningham and Gillespie 173). The cave “was

finally abandoned as unsafe and was destroyed around 1780. The vigil was then

transferred to the [nearby] church, where it has continued to this day” (Curley 19).

Although most people do not realize it, Saint Patrick’s Purgatory is still a popular

pilgrimage destination in our own day. According to Easting, “Every year during the

season 1 June–15 August some 15,000 pilgrims nowadays perform their three-day rites of

fasting, prayer, vigil, and circuits of the ‘beds’ of the saints at Saint Patrick’s Purgatory,

Lough Derg, Co. Donegal, Ireland” (“Purgatory” 23). Henry of Saltrey, if he could have

known, would probably have been very surprised indeed at the effect that his Tractatus

would continue to have on the laity for the next eight hundred years.

Structure and Argument

The Purgatoire s. Patrice in Harley 273 serves to show readers that there are

many tribulations and temptations in life, but if they behave as they should and have

unwavering faith, they will ultimately receive the reward of heaven; if not, they will be

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condemned to everlasting torment in hell, or torment for a greater or lesser time in

purgatory. The text shows this graphically by recounting the journey of the sinful but

repentant knight Owein from earth, through purgatory, to the earthly paradise, and back again. As he travels, the knight observes and occasionally experiences the torments of purgatory as he is continually tempted by fiends who try in this way to entrap and keep his soul in the dark realms.

The text follows the common “out and back” structure typical of many romances.

Owein is a knight; his quest is absolution of his sins. In order to accomplish this, he must successfully negotiate the pitfalls of purgatory with its many persuasive demons. The story is framed by a prologue and an epilogue that are unique to this version of the romance. In the eighteen-line prologue, the translator says that he was asked to translate

the story from Latin “Pur la bone gent conforter / E pur la male amender” [To comfort the good people / And to improve the bad] (1–2).6 He adds that hearing this story is more

edifying than telling tales or playing at chess or other games, which often leads to

arguments (13–16). There is then a brief introduction giving important background

information, telling of Saint Patrick’s founding of the purgatory site (19–66). After this,

Owein’s story, the main part of the narrative in which he goes successfully through the trials and returns to earth, takes place (81–809), followed by an epilogue rather longer than the prologue (810–59). The epilogue, harkening back to the prologue, reminds the audience of the importance of faith and right action in order to obtain a heavenly reward,

making the lesson of the story very clear.

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Within the larger context of the Purgatoire s. Patrice, Owein’s narrative is also

framed by parallel events. We are introduced to Owein and told of his attempt to gain

admittance to St. Patrick’s Purgatory, then of his preparations for the journey (81–142).

Part of this preparation includes a stay of fifteen days in the monastery just outside the

Purgatory, praying and participating in vigils (105–08). When he enters the Purgatory, he

is met inside by representatives of God: fifteen men in white who tell him what to expect

and who offer him advice about thwarting the plans of the demons he will meet (143–92).

On his return trip after successfully attaining the earthly paradise, and just before reaching the Purgatory’s exit, Owein again meets the fifteen men in white. They thank

God for the knight’s success and offer him counsel, this time on how to survive on earth in order to avoid returning to purgatory and how ultimately to attain heaven (774–92).

After his exit, the knight goes to the church, where he again spends fifteen days (793–98).

Mirroring his attempts to gain entrance to purgatory in order to put an end to his sinful life, after he has obtained absolution and is back on earth, the knight begins and eventually ends his sin-free life as a holy man, taking the cross, going to the Holy Land, returning, and finishing his life in service as a monk (799–809).

Throughout the narrative of Owein’s journey, the knight is continually exposed to the opposites of good and evil. His journey itself consists largely of his visit to the fields of torment in the Purgatory (193–608). This is not hell, the extreme place of evil, but only purgatory, from which souls eventually move on to the better regions. Neither does he actually enter heaven, but only the earthly paradise. The entrance to hell is depicted as a stinking, ugly, flaming river in the lower regions full of human souls as well as of

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devils (561–67). The earthly paradise is both morally and physically above purgatory,

reached by means of a steep bridge; the entrance to heaven is found even higher, on a

mountain bathed in golden light (724–34). The earthly paradise has a marvelous and

incomparable aroma (631–34), contrasting with the stench of purgatory (505, 517, 563).

The fifteen men in white who speak to Owein on God’s behalf are polite, well-spoken,

and disciplined, quietly entering the room two by two and offering him their blessings

(157–190, 779–92). The residents of the earthly paradise, similarly, are described as

“mout bele gent” [very handsome people] (639); they walk in disciplined procession two

by two, wearing colorful garments and singing joyfully and sweetly (639–72). The

devils, however, are depicted as an ugly, noisy, rude, and mocking mob (193–220).

Whereas the residents of heaven continually thrive on heavenly food in the form of a

flame representing God’s love, and those of the earthly paradise on the same for an hour

each day (730–52), in purgatory it is the souls of the tormented who serve as the food for

all manner of vile beasts who bite and devour them little by little (289–300).

The message of the Purgatoire s. Patrice is vividly and repeatedly rehearsed for

the spiritual benefit of its audience. In purgatory, all is violence, noise, stench, and

horror: the viciousness of the demons and the wailing of the tortured souls being eaten,

beaten, flogged, grilled, spun on fiery wheels and immersed in boiling metals and in

vermin-filled rivers. In the earthly paradise, all is light, color, sweet music, gentleness,

and the intoxicating warmth of God’s love. Because Owein is still living, he is not

permitted to actually see the visio Dei, the goal of souls in the afterlife (Bynum 290), but

he sees enough so that he knows it exists and he yearns for it. As Owein prepares to

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leave the earthly paradise, he is told, “Si tu bien vifs, bien avendras; / Sinoun en celes peines irras” [If you live well, good will come to you; / If not, you will find yourself in these torments] (755–56). As he prepares to leave the Purgatory at the end of his adventure, the men in white reinforce the lesson, advising him, “Garde tei bien desore mes, / Si vels joie aver après” [Watch yourself from now on / If you wish to have joy afterwards] (789–90). The epilogue gives more specific advice directly to the audience, including these lines:

Bien nus en devom chastïer,

Guerpir de nus la folie

E bien amender nostre vie

Par verroie confessioun

E fere satisfaccioun

A dampnedieu omnipotent,

A cui ceste merveille apent. (812–18)

[We must strive to improve ourselves,

Fling folly away,

And correct our lives

By true confession

And give satisfaction

To all-powerful God

To whom this marvel belongs.]

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The audience sees how difficult it is for Owein to maintain his faith in God while he is in the Purgatory, yet the knight manages to do it and is rewarded in the end, as they too can be if they behave well and maintain their faith despite adversity.

Genre/Type of Romance

The Purgatoire s. Patrice does not lend itself easily to classification. Whereas some versions were obviously written for monastic audiences, others, of which the second anonymous version found in Harley 273 is an excellent example, are simultaneously less improving and more entertaining. Even at both extremes, however, the story is a combination of both religious and secular material. For this reason, scholars have variously classified the story as hagiography, a vision, and a romance.

Although some scholars classify the story as hagiography or a saint’s legend, the evidence for this is very slight. Dean and Boulton, for instance, list the Anglo-Norman versions of the story in their volume Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to Texts and

Manuscripts as “Religious Literature” under the section entitled “Hagiography” (302–

05). This section consists mainly of saints’ lives, but there are a few peripheral topics, such as Miracles of St. Andrew (287), A Miracle of St. Cradoc (288), and The Life and

Miracles of St. Francis (291). In this sense, one could consider the Purgatoire s. Patrice to be a miracle of Saint Patrick. Although Patrick does not himself create the Purgatory, he prays and God grants his prayer. According to Easting, in the Auchinleck manuscript the story “is placed appropriately after the legends of Seynt Margrete and Seynt Katerine and before Þe desputisoun bitven þe bodi & þe soule and The Harrowing of Hell”

(“Middle English Translations” 166). Likewise, Thomas Wright called it a legend (St.

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Patrick’s 152). In the general, secular sense, the story can be regarded as a legend. A

saint’s legend, however, has to concern the saint, and there is very little of Saint Patrick

in this story. The Harley 273 copy, for example, contains just 47 lines about the saint and

his founding of the Purgatory (19–66). That is just slightly more than five percent of the

total 859 lines. This narrative is not about Patrick; it is about Owein. If Owein were a

saint, or if he became a saint at some point later in his life, this story could be considered

hagiography, but it is not.

Other scholars call the Purgatoire a vision, but there is much disagreement about

the accuracy of this assessment, also. Ward listed the story under his section entitled

“Visions of Heaven and Hell” (435–85). The tale is often copied in juxtaposition with

visions. In Cotton Caligula A.II, containing the third English version, the work is

followed by The Vision of Tundale. Peter of Cornwall, in his Liber revelationum—

Lambeth Palace Library MS 51—begins with the Latin Tractatus, followed by the story

conventionally known as Peter of Cornwall’s Account of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, a vision

story heard by Peter in 1200, then “a sequence of twelve visions involving members of

Peter’s family” (Easting, “Peter” 399). Peter of Cornwall’s account is similar in some

ways to that given in the Tractatus. It is “a vision seen at St. Patrick’s Purgatory by an

unnamed knight . . . c. 1170.” The adventure is described as a vision, yet the knight, like

Owein, participates bodily. In this story, the knight meets an evil king and eventually is tortured by demons:

Here the knight . . . was played with, like a ball, by demons who strung

him from a beam by a rope tied to his feet and swung him about the room

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whose walls were studded with sharp stones until his brains fell out. Each

torture we are told was more excruciating than the last. As dawn

approached, . . . all the vision disappeared and the knight found himself in

the entrance to the Purgatory he first went in. (Easting, “Peter” 404)

According to Peter M. de Wilde, the Tractatus was successful in part because for the first time in the Middle Ages, someone made a visit, in the flesh, to the otherworld (145).

Wilde argues that this is not a vision, since visions do not involve the direct participation of the visionary (146). Easting refers to “visionary accounts of the otherworld” as “soul- journeys,” suggesting that visions do not involve the physical body (“Access” 75).

Jenkins argued that people believed these works “to be the narratives of those who had actually seen and tasted either the frightful sufferings which awaited the confirmed sinner, or the untold felicities which were prepared for the elect” (4). According to historian Caroline Bynum, in some visions “a living person” descends into purgatory; “in others—and this form became more common—a soul voyages while its body appears asleep or gravely ill to those left behind” (294). In the Harley 273 version of the story,

Owein is thrown onto a fire and struck by demons with burning crooks (229–30); in Peter of Cornwall’s account, the knight is swung about the room until his brains fall out

(Easting, “Peter” 404), yet both presumably emerge unscathed from their ordeals. Do they, in fact, participate bodily, or are their adventures non-participatory visions? The fact that their injuries vanish by the time they exit the Purgatory could mean either that their injuries are not real (that is, they are part of a vision), or that they are miraculously healed because the knights successfully complete their quests.7 In either case, no other

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mortal is with the knights to observe what happens inside the Purgatory. We cannot in

fact know whether the knights participate bodily once they are inside the cave, or whether

they experience exceptionally vivid visions. For this reason, whether or not the

Purgatoire can be called a vision depends on one’s point of view.

If the story is not a vision, it is an adventure—a romance—but not an ordinary romance. Curley refers to “Marie’s decision to cast Owen as the protagonist of a secular aventure” (33). This is not accurate, either, because all the versions of the story are somewhere along the secular/religious continuum. In all the versions, the protagonist is a knight (secular), but his goal is absolution of his sins (religious). The various versions contain a greater or lesser amount of monastic material, from anecdotes to homilies to none of these, but at its most fundamental level, the story is both religious and secular,

which is a major reason for its great popularity. The story involves a voyage to the

otherworld (Wilde 143), an adventure that in most stories is confined to either imaginary

characters or saints. In this case, however, Owein is a knight, a sinful mortal being. As

Easting points out, “the otherworld is made accessible to everyone, or at least to anyone

faithful and daring enough to attempt it” (“Middle English Translations” 163). As we

have seen, thousands of people over the centuries have taken the story literally enough to

go themselves to St. Patrick’s Purgatory to “try the adventure.” The story is sometimes

compared to St. Brendan, another “real-life romance, a pious adventure story” (Easting,

“South” 133), but Brendan is a religious, not a layperson. The emphasis in the

Purgatoire is on Owein as a layperson, the physicality of purgatory, and the reality of the

devils (Easting, “South” 132). What Easting says of the first English version found in the

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South English Legendary is equally appropriate for the Anglo-Norman version found in

Harley 273: the many omissions “suggest the author . . . pruned spiritual matters in the interests of romantic adventure; aimed to avoid undue repetition of incident; increased the drama of Owein’s lonely and dangerous quest; and strove for a rapid succession of action and dialogue” (“South” 125). The translator of the second English version, that found in the Auchinleck manuscript, even went so far as to make Owein a knight from

Northumberland, rather than from Ireland, in the interest of making the story closer to the

experience of his Anglo-Norman readers (Easting, “English” 64). Although Ward classified it as a vision, he included it in a book dealing with romances in the British

Museum (435–85). David L. Pike argues that the work is “the translation of a sacred vision into a Romance adventure” (48). Again, however, it is not purely a secular romance.

In the Auchinleck manuscript there appears another story of a sinful knight who strives for absolution. This is Sir Gowther. The difference is that Gowther is genetically sinful: in the poem, his mother is mortal, but his father is an incubus (73–78). Whereas the Harley 273 version does not reveal Owein’s sins, the reader is told in vivid detail of

Gowther’s transgressions, including the rape and burning of a convent full of nuns (181–

92). When Gowther decides to seek absolution, he knows that his sins are out of the ordinary and that he needs an extraordinary penance, so he travels to see the Pope in

Rome. The Pope insists on his humility, telling him he must eat only food that he has taken from dogs and not speak to anyone until he receives a sign from God indicating that his sins are forgiven (295–300). Although his mission is a difficult one, he does as the

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Pope says, becomes a model of knightly behavior, and marries a sweet and beautiful maiden (673–78). This story, too, is difficult to classify. As editors Anne Laskaya and

Eve Salisbury state, it is “[d]efined variously as a tale of trial and faith, a penitential romance, a hagiographical romance, secular hagiography, a Breton lay, and simply a

‘process’ of romance” (264), categories that could as well be applied to the Purgatoire.

“A tale of trial and faith” downplays the secular characteristics of the stories, while “a

Breton lay” downplays the religious aspects. The best classification is that of penitential

romance. Both Gowther and Owein are knights who admit to their extreme sinfulness;

both are genuinely penitent and realize that their sins are so great that a normal penance is

not nearly enough to counteract their years of sin. Both willingly put themselves at the

mercy of others (Owein, God; and Gowther, dogs and kind people) in order to survive

and to obtain absolution. In the end, both are successful in their penitential journeys due

to their faith, their bravery and their humility—the ideal characteristics of knights in

romances.

Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness

The version of the Purgatoire s. Patrice found in Harley 273 is one of the shortest

accounts of the story, omitting the monastic parts and digressions and concentrating

almost entirely on Saint Patrick’s founding of purgatory and Owein’s tale. This

difference is very pronounced when one compares this version to the lengthier Latin

versions of the story. As will be remembered, Ward divided the 150 or so Latin

manuscripts of the Tractatus into two classes, subsequently known as α and β. Although

there is a considerable amount of variation among the manuscripts within a particular

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class, it is necessary to select one particular edition for comparison; I have therefore

selected my editions based on scholarly interest in them. For the purpose of this

comparison, I will use the α text found in Utrecht, University Library, MS 173 edited by

Van der Zanden and published in 1927, and the modern French translation of the manuscript found in the same volume. This text contains more monastic material than

does Arundel 292. For the β text, I will use that found in Karl Warnke’s 1938 edition,

which is a collation of the texts found in British Library, MS Royal 13.B.VIII, München,

Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, C. L. 15745, and Paris, Bibliothèque National fonds latin

13434.8 The modern English translation of the β text is that edited by Jean-Michel Picard

based on unspecified manuscripts of the β class.

In order to illustrate this text’s uniqueness, I will first compare, in some detail, the version found in Harley 273 to the two Latin versions, then to the Anglo-Norman version attributed to Marie de France. I will then compare Harley 273 to the remaining three

Anglo-Norman and French versions and the three English versions, all of which appeared after that found in the Ludlow scribe’s manuscript. Finally, I will discuss specific aspects of the scribe’s work that did not appear in previous versions, but that were carried on in some of the later ones, as well as aspects of the work that are absolutely unique, commenting on the importance of these changes.

Both Latin versions of the Tractatus are somewhat longer than the Anglo-Norman version of Harley 273 because they tend to contain much more background information and more digressions of interest mainly to members of a religious community, particularly leading up to the introduction of Owein. Whereas Harley 273 begins with a

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brief statement of the purpose of the narrative, the β version in Latin begins more formally, with a dedication to Abbot H. of Sartis (Warnke 2; Picard 43) followed by a prologue by H. of Saltrey.9 In the prologue, H. writes of what Pope Gregory says happens to souls when people die and recounts what Gregory says about purgatory

(Warnke 2–14; Picard 43–45). The α version, on the contrary, begins with a description of a lake in Ulster, of which half is for good, and half for evil spirits; this lake is subsequently linked to the purgatory idea (Van der Zanden 4, 25).10 The dedication and prologue in α are very similar to those found in β. The narrative begins; we are told that

Patrick preached in Ireland. At this point, β includes a digression where the narrator

(Gilbert) interrupts his telling of the story to give an example of the savage nature of the

Irish of his own time, telling of one Irishman who does not realize that killing is a sin

(Warnke 16–20; Picard 46–47). All three versions then continue with essentially the same story of how Patrick founded the purgatory, except that the Latin versions add the fact that just before showing him the Purgatory, Jesus Christ gives Patrick a staff and a text containing the Gospels (Warnke 22; Picard 47; Van der Zanden 7, 28). The Latin versions explain that the stories of those who return from the Purgatory are recorded for the edification of others (Warnke 26; Picard 48; Van der Zanden 7, 28). Another digression follows in the Latin versions. An elderly prior with only one tooth, living on dry bread, salt and water, is often sung to by angels until his eventual death (Warnke 28–

30; Picard 48–49; Van der Zanden 8, 28–29). This is followed in the Latin versions by a description of the requirements to obtain permission to enter the Purgatory and of the

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ritual that must be followed before one enters (Warnke 32–36; Picard 49–50; Van der

Zanden 8–9, 29–30).

In all three versions, the story of Owein then begins. In Harley 273, the knight

confesses his sins to his own bishop (88–89). In both Latin versions, however, he

confesses to the bishop of the diocese in which the Purgatory is located (Warnke 32–36;

Picard 49–50; Van der Zanden 8–9, 29–30), and this bishop tries to convince him to enter

holy orders instead, but the knight refuses (Warnke 40; Picard 52; Van der Zanden 9, 30).

In Harley 273, the ritual for permission and entry into the Purgatory is given in relation to

Owein, rather than in a separate section earlier in the tale (81–142). This makes for a

cleaner, more logical narrative. Although all three versions explain what Owein is to

expect in the Purgatory, Harley 273 mentions for the first time that those who have

returned have recorded their stories for posterity (23–30). Following the prior’s

instructions, Owein enters the Purgatory and encounters the messengers of God. The

Harley 273 version says there are fifteen men wearing white (155–56). The Latin

versions describe them as being like monks—in white garments and newly shaven—

while the α versions gives their number as twelve rather than fifteen (Warnke 50; Picard

53; Van der Zanden 11, 31). Twelve is, of course the number of the Apostles. The Latin

versions continue the religious emphasis, stating that Owein is a knight of God, armed

with faith, justice, and the hope of salvation (Warnke 56; Picard 54–55; Van der Zanden

11, 32). Owein then encounters the demons who lead him through the Purgatory. The

Latin versions emphasize the religious aspects of the story, with Owein as a knight of

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God, while that of Harley 273 emphasizes Owein as a mortal secular knight on a quest in a religious setting.

The part of the story dealing with the torments of the Purgatory was probably quite popular, as it is vividly described and little changed among the versions. Souls in purgatory “reside in receptacles appropriate to their status and merit” (Bynum 266). The reader is not told what these souls have done in life to merit such treatment, but the variety and subtlety of the various tortures suggests an unstated logic. In the second field of torment, where each pinned victim is being tortured by an animal, Harley 273 describes the actions of the vile creatures in a general sense: all of them are biting and sucking the blood of their victims (293–302). In the Latin versions, however, we read that the toads are exceptionally large, and that they seem to be trying to eat the hearts of their victims, while the snakes are entwining themselves around the people, piercing their chests with burning fangs (Warnke 72; Picard 58–59; Van der Zanden 13–14, 34). In the third field of torment, the victims are nailed with so many nails that, according to the

Latin versions, one could not put one’s fingertip between the nails (Warnke 74; Picard

59; Van der Zanden 14, 34–35), whereas in Harley, in a far more colorful figure of speech, the nails make the people resemble quilled hedgehogs (321–22). In the Harley text, we are told that the next field is enormous, and that victims from all walks of life and all levels of society are there; none are spared: “Nul haut ordre ne se defent. / E clerc e lai e haut e bas / Mout i crient Alas! Alas!” [No high order was spared. / And clerics and lay people and high and low / Many there cried Alas! Alas!] (350–52). Vising noted that the contents of these lines and of the brief section consisting of lines 347–55 are not

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found in either of the Latin versions, nor in the translation of Marie de France; he

attributed them to the Anglo-Norman translator (63). In contrast, both the Latin versions

say that in this field Owein sees people he knows, whereas the Harley version says no

such thing (Warnke 78; Picard 60; Van der Zanden 15, 35). In the Harley version, Vising

writes that the description of the wheels of torture beginning on line 388 is much more

detailed than in either of the Latin versions or in the translation of Marie (65). In

addition, Harley says that the victims experience great cold at the top of the wheels’

trajectories, while the Latin versions say only that the top part of the wheels are in the air

(Vising 415–20; Warnke 80; Picard 60; Van der Zanden 15, 35). In the “bathhouse,”

there are pits of boiling liquids, but only the version in Harley 273 lists the molten metals individually (453–54). In the next field, Harley says that the victims are held aloft, run

through with skewers (485–86), while the Latin versions say they are crouching on the ground (Warnke 88; Picard 62; Van der Zanden 16, 36). According to the Latin versions, when these people are flung into the stinking and freezing river, then try to climb out, they are plunged back in by demons who, unlike in Harley, can walk on the water

(Warnke 90; Picard 63; Van der Zanden 16, 37). Next Owein is taken to the giant, sulphurus flame leaping out of a well. In Harley, we are told that the knight sees the flame carrying people high into the air “Plus de mil teises a sun espeir” [more than a thousand fathoms, in his opinion] (522), and that the demons tie him up and throw him into the well (537–38), whereas in the Latin versions, we are not told the height of the flame, and in β the demons jump into the well, taking the knight with them, while α agrees with Harley that Owein alone is thrown into the well (Warnke 92; Picard 63; Van

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der Zanden 16, 37). At this point some of both the α and β manuscripts include the first

homily. Ward argued that the two homilies are “interpolations” (445); Picard agrees, so

he omits them from his translation of the β text (42). The β text includes a fuller version than α of the first homily, which “points out for a monastic audience how much greater are the sufferings of Purgatory than the discomforts of the monastic life” (Easting,

“Purgatory” 43; Warnke 100–06; Van der Zanden 18, 38–39).

The Latin versions generally include more detail in the earthly paradise section than does Harley. However, when Owein reaches the earthly paradise, he notices that the door is inset with precious gems, which are then named in Harley (617–24) but not in the

Latin versions. The β text describes the earthly paradise in more detail than does Harley or the α text, describing in particular the appearance of the inhabitants (Warnke 106–20;

Picard 65–68; Van der Zanden 18–20, 39–40; Vising 609–84). Once inside the earthly paradise, the two bishops speak to Owein; in the Latin versions the speech is somewhat

longer than in Harley, discussing Original Sin, the hatefulness of disobedience, and the nature of purgatory (Warnke 120–28; Picard 68–69; Van der Zanden 20–21, 40–41;

Vising 685–722). When Owein leaves the earthly paradise, a few of the Latin versions include a second homily, which many editors choose to omit, discussing the joys of paradise and the torments of hell. Near the end of the adventure, Owein returns to the

room where he again meets the men in white. This time they advise him to live his life

well if he hopes to attain heaven and avoid purgatory (789–90). The Latin versions,

however, omit this small but important piece of advice.

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After Owein’s return from purgatory, the Latin versions diverge widely from the

text of Harley 273. According to Harley, the knight becomes a crusader, returns, and

becomes a monk, living a holy life until his death (Vising 799–808). In the Latin

versions, he becomes a crusader, returns, and asks the king what monastic order he

should join, but this question is never answered. Instead, we are told that Owein is with

the king when Gervase comes from England to request permission to build an abbey

(Warnke 138; Picard 72; Van der Zanden 23, 43). Harley concludes with a short sermon

to reinforce the message of the narrative (809–59). The Latin versions again give

background and supporting information. First, they tell of Gilbert’s acquaintance with

Owein while the latter acts as translator during the abbey’s construction, followed by a

narrative wherein Gilbert tells of his personal acquaintance with a monk who was

physically tormented by demons for three days and three nights, and whose dreadful

wounds never healed in the fifteen years that remained of the monk’s life (Warnke 138–

48; Picard 72–74; Van der Zanden 23–24, 43–44). The α text and some of the β texts end

here with a brief epilogue in which H. of Saltrey reminds his audience that he has

recorded the story as requested (Warnke 150; Picard 78; Van der Zanden 24, 44). Some

of the β texts continue with testimonies designed to support the veracity of the main

narrative. First, H. consults two Irish abbots, one of whom has never heard of these stories, the other of whom says they are true. He also speaks to Bishop Florentianus, who says all of the story is true and who knows a hermit who sees demons every night. The bishop’s chaplain then tells of some of the things said by the demons, then he reports the

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story of a virtuous priest who was unsuccessfully tempted by devils (Warnke 150–66;

Picard 74–78). In these texts, the epilogue follows.

The first extant Anglo-Norman translation is that attributed to Marie de France.

Marie was the first to change the Latin prose to Anglo-Norman octosyllabic verse and to address “a new, larger public” (Leonard 57). Since her translation is the only Anglo-

Norman version before that of Harley 273, it and the many Latin texts are the only surviving ones that could directly have influenced Harley. Additionally, Marie’s version is by far the longest. In her translation, Marie is always aware of her audience: she addresses her reader directly as “Seignur” several times (lines 49, 189, and 421), and she periodically comments on the action (lines 1019–20), both innovations not found in the

Latin versions (Leonard 58, 60).11 Whereas the Latin versions generally refer to Owein

as “miles” or “vir,” Marie most often calls him by name; in contrast, the Latin versions

name the clerics involved in bringing forth the story, but Marie calls them simply

“moignes de Cisteus” [monks of Cîteaux] (Curley 24). In this way, she downplays the

monastic elements of the story while emphasizing the reality of the participation of a

common person in the adventure: a member of the laity, like most of her readers.

Although she claims her part in the translation in her envoi (lines 2297–2302), she gives

credit where it is due, often referring to her source (lines 141, 421, 504) (Bloch 55).

Harley also is clearly a version addressed to the laity, but the translator does not make use

of Marie’s methods, except that of calling Owein by name and of sometimes addressing

the audience directly (Vising 809).12

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In the story itself, there are a number of differences between Marie’s version and that of Harley 273. In most cases where Harley differs from the Latin versions, Marie agrees with them. Marie opens with a lengthy prefatory section of 188 lines similar to that found in the Latin β version discussing Pope Gregory’s comments on death and purgatory. Marie then begins to tell the story of Patrick, and interrupts, like β, to tell of the savage Irishman. Here, though, she puts the story not in her own time, but in the time of Patrick (lines 215–64). This has the effect of showing, not that the twelfth-century

Irish are as savage as the Latin texts disclose, but that the Irish were savage in much earlier pagan times (Curley 29). Marie’s text follows that of the Latin versions closely, telling the account of the prior with one tooth, then the requirements for gaining permission to enter the purgatory, Owein’s preparation and his entry into purgatory, and his meeting with the men in white. Marie’s version agrees with both the Latin β texts and that of Harley 273 in that there are fifteen men rather than twelve (lines 705–09). In

Owein’s first encounter with the demons, Marie’s version differs from both that of the

Latin and Harley 273. Whereas in the other versions Owein is thrown onto the fire, calls on Jesus Christ, and the fire is extinguished, in Marie’s version he first calls on God, with no result. After roasting momentarily, he calls on Jesus Christ; this name, we are told, works and he is saved (lines 887–902). The rest of the torments continue as in the Latin versions, with a few exceptions. When the victims are flung from the mountain into the river and try to get out, demons push them back in; neither Marie’s text nor Harley’s makes mention of the demons walking on water (line 1268, Vising 509–12). At the giant flame, Marie agrees with the Latin β text: the demons leap into the pit, taking Owein with

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them (lines 1295–96). In Marie’s version the first homily follows (lines 1401–84). The earthly paradise is described in more detail than in Harley, similar to that of the Latin versions. The archbishops’ speech also follows the Latin, as does the second meeting with the men in white. The second homily, as in Harley 273, is omitted in Marie’s version. Upon Owein’s return to earth, he becomes a crusader to the Holy Land, returns, and asks the king whether he should become a monk. So far, the story is like that found in the Latin versions, but here Marie makes a change: the king responds in the negative, so Owein remains a knight to the end of his days (lines 1913–32), an act that perhaps the translator’s lay audience would appreciate more than Owein’s becoming a monk.

Marie’s version includes many of the same testimonies found in the Latin versions but not in Harley: Gilbert’s acquaintance with Owein, his tales of the monk tormented by demons, the two Irish abbots, Bishop Florentianus, and the bishop’s chaplain’s tale of the priest tempted by devils (lines 1933–2296). Marie concludes with her own epilogue in which she says she translated the story for the benefit of the laity (lines 2297–2302).

The remaining three Anglo-Norman French versions (that of Bérol, and the first and third anonymous versions) and the three Middle English versions (pa, OM1 and

OM2) of the Tractatus were all translated after the version that is found in Harley 273, so where they agree with Harley, they might have been influenced by it.

At this point, a summary of the changes to the text would be helpful. The Latin versions of the Tractatus were written first. Marie’s version, the first Anglo-Norman version of which we know, is in many ways very close to the Latin version, whereas the version found in Harley 273 (that is, the second anonymous version) is strikingly

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different. The Latin versions and that of Marie contain much material that is omitted by

Harley and that does not bear directly on the story of Saint Patrick and Owein. The

omitted material includes a dedication to Abbot H. of Sartis, the prologue of H. of

Saltrey, the description of a lake in Ulster, the story of the savage Irishman, the story of the prior with one tooth, the first and second homilies, and at the end of the narrative, the story of Gilbert’s acquaintance with Owein, Gilbert’s story of the monk attacked by demons, the two Irish abbots, Bishop Florentianus’s story and that of his chaplain, and

the epilogue of H. of Saltrey. The effect of these omissions is to make the story more of

a romance; by omitting the lengthy digressions and homilies, the translator places more emphasis on the straightforward story of Owein. Of the Anglo-Norman translations that

followed Harley, only the third anonymous version retains any of the monastic material,

and here, only the stories of the savage Irishman and the prior with one tooth (Mörner Le

Purgatoire . . . du manuscrit 7–68, 171–216). None of the three subsequent Middle

English versions uses any of this omitted material, so it would seem that posterity approved of the major editorial decisions of the Harley version’s translator. This man did not stop here, however, in his alterations to the earlier texts, both Latin and Anglo-

Norman.

The translator of the second anonymous version (the Harley 273 version) also omitted, changed, and added smaller details that helped to support his literary design. He omitted the original prologue and epilogue, writing his own for a non-monastic audience.

Although none of the later versions used these particular additions, subsequent versions all used different prologues and epilogues or none at all. In all the earlier versions, when

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Owein tells the bishop of his plan to go to St. Patrick’s Purgatory, the bishop tries to talk him out of it and instead to become a monk or other religious. Harley omits this suggestion, as do Bérol, the third anonymous version, and OM1. In all the earlier

versions, the prerequisites involved in gaining permission to enter the Purgatory and the

ritual one has to follow afterwards is explained before Owein enters the story, while in

Harley, Bérol, the first anonymous version, pa, and OM1, these explanations are given in

a more natural way, as Owein accomplishes them (Vising 85–142; Mörner Le Purgatoire

. . . par Bérol 97–172; Van der Zanden 235–368; Horstmann 39–94; Kölbing 100.29.1–

101.43.3).13 In OM2 there is only the briefest mention of the requirements before the appearance of Owein (Kölbing 114.96–99). The messengers of God that Owein encounters in purgatory are described in the earlier versions as looking like monks, wearing white and newly shaven. The Harley version, however, omits the reference to monks (Vising 155–56). The third anonymous version describes them as newly-shaven

“barons” in white (Mörner Le Purgatoire . . . du manuscript 380–84), while pa says there are twelve men in white and “Alle heore crounes weren newe shaue” [All their crowns were newly shaven] (Horstmann 111). After Owein leaves the men in white, the narrator of the older versions remarks that the knight is armed with faith, justice, and hope, but this detail is omitted in Harley, the third anonymous version, OM1, and OM2. The text in pa says that the knight is armed with “holie beden” [holy prayers] (Horstmann 136). At the end of the earlier versions, Owein dies as a knight; in Harley, the first and third anonymous versions, pa, and OM1, he dies a monk (Vising 803–05; Van der Zanden

1783–86; Mörner Le Purgatoire . . . du manuscrit 1020–23; Horstmann 658–59; Kölbing

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112.197.4–6). All the other versions say that when Saint Patrick is being shown the

Purgatory, God or Jesus Christ gives him a staff and a text of the Gospels. In pa he

receives only the staff, while in Harley he receives neither of these relics (Horstmann 3–

6). Near the end of Harley and of OM2, the men in white advise Owein to be good in

order to go eventually to the celestial paradise (Vising 755–56; Kölbing 120.651–54). I

have already pointed out that this last is part of a succession of pieces of such advice

meant for the readers of the second anonymous version; this is the only instance in OM2

compared with the three in Harley. The other changes to the text listed to this point serve mainly to downplay the religious nature of the work, which tends to be overwhelming in the Latin versions. One should remember that this is a religious story meant for the laity; for this reason it was translated into the more accessible Anglo-Norman language. Also, too many digressions might distract the audience from following the essential story, while too much stress on religion as opposed to action might cause them to lose interest.

The major omissions are obviously those unconnected with the story of Saint Patrick and

Owein. The smaller changes are also designed with the lay audience in mind. For example, most of the audience would not consider becoming monks in order to atone for sins. For them, the natural alternative to going to purgatory is simple confession and penance. Saint Patrick’s staff and Gospels are also irrelevant to the story.

Among the changes made by the translator of the second anonymous version is that of the lists found in Harley. The translator included two lists in his text, adding detail not found in the earlier versions. In the “bathhouse,” metals and other liquids are boiling, but our translator is the first to name them specifically: “plum e esteim, / Or e

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argent, quevre e esreim” [lead and tin, / Gold and silver, copper and bronze (or brass)]

(Vising 453–54). This practice was followed in the later OM1 (the Auchinleck manuscript), where the translator lists “bras and coper and oþer metal” [brass and copper and other metal] (Kölbing 105.99.5). Although this appears to be a minor similarity, it is striking since none of the other eight versions list any specific metals. Even more striking, however, is the list of gems on the door of the earthly paradise. According to

Harley, these consist of:

jaspes e cristals,

Sardoines et alabandines,

Topaces e cornelines,

Berils, safirs e charbocles,

Adamantz, smaraudes, onicles . . . . (Vising 618–22)

[jaspers and crystals,

Sardonyx and alabandica,

Topaz and cornelians,

Beryls, sapphires, and carbuncles

Diamonds, emeralds, onyx . . . .]

Here, too, OM1 employs a list:

Jaspers, topes and cristal,

margarites and coral

and riche saferstones,

ribes and salidoines,

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onicles and causteloines,

and diamaunce for þe nones. (Kölbing 107.131.1–6)

[Jaspers, topaz and crystal,

pearls and coral

and rich sapphires,

rubies and sardonyx,

onyx and chalcedony,

and diamonds for the purpose.]

This list is very similar to that of Harley, suggesting that either OM1 was directly or indirectly influenced by the second anonymous version or that these particular passages derive from a common unknown source. Since Harley contains one of the oldest versions of the story, it is unlikely that it and OM1 have a common source; it is more likely that the Harley version influenced the later text. Although Easting states that OM1 is close to the texts found in CUL MS Ee.6.11 and the BL MS Lansdowne 383 fragment (that is, the

Anglo-Norman first anonymous version), as far as I have found, no one has noted the relationship of OM1 to this, the second anonymous version (St. Patrick’s xlv–xlvi).

Some of the translator’s changes, however, were not followed by any of the subsequent versions. Although other versions say that the victims in one field of torment are being bitten and tormented by dragons, snakes, and toads, each in a very specific and detailed way explained at length, Harley only gives generalities: these creatures as a group are biting and sucking the blood of these people (Warnke 999–1012; Vising 293–

300). Perhaps the translator was attempting to spare the feelings of his patron or some

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other specific person who had lost a friend or family member to a serpent’s embrace. For this reason, he omitted the details and substituted a more vague and brief description than that found in his source. Perhaps he simply wished to omit these details, shortening the text slightly. Vising writes that the passage in the fourth field of torment where neither high nor low, neither cleric nor layperson is spared (lines 347–55) was added by the translator (63). One is tempted to imagine that the translator was thinking of someone in particular when he wrote these lines. The other place where the translator added his own details is in another field of torture: that containing the wheels. Beginning at line 388, the translator describes the operation of the wheels in far greater detail than in any of the other versions (Vising 64–65). He does this in such a way that suggests either special interest or special knowledge of the subject. In addition, the other versions say that the top of the wheels are in the air, while the Harley translator alone says that there is a great temperature difference between the wheel’s nadir and its zenith: at the bottom there is fire, while at the top, it is freezing cold, adding to the torture (Vising 416–20). Finally, there are several cases where the translator adds specific, colorful details. The translator seems to be visually oriented and to opt for scientific detail and specific information.

When he describes the giant flame in one of the torments, he declares it to be not just high, but from Owein’s point of view, “Plus de mil teises a sun espeir” [more than a thousand fathoms, in his opinion] (Vising 522). Describing the victims who are punctured with many flaming nails, whereas most other versions say that the nails are so close together that one could not put a fingertip among them, our translator declares: “De

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clous ardantz fu plein chescun / Cum de broches est hirechoun” [Each was full of burning nails / Like quills on a hedgehog] (Vising 321–22).

The global effect of the changes made by the translator of the second anonymous version is to remove the monastic material and alter the rest so that it would be more

attractive to a lay audience. This version does not seek to have its readers be perfect

monks, nor to have them desire to be monks, nor to stuff them with information about

Pope Gregory, Gilbert, and the prior with one tooth. Rather, its purpose is to entertain

and edify, to recount a fascinating adventure in lively style while gently reminding the

audience of the importance of penance and of living a life of godliness in order to gain

admittance to heaven and to avoid both purgatory and hell in the afterlife.

Bibliography of Versions of This Text

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles

Curley, Michael J., ed. and trans. Saint Patrick’s Purgatory: A Poem by Marie de

France. Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies 94. Binghamton, NY:

Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies, 1993.

Horstmann, Carl, ed. The Early South-English Legendary, or, Lives of Saints: MS Laud,

108, in the Bodleian Library. EETS os 87. 1887. Woodbridge, Eng.: Boydell &

Brewer, 2000.

Jenkins, Thomas Atkinson, ed. Espurgatoire Seint Patriz: An Old French Poem of the

Twelfth Century, Published with an Introduction and a Study of the Language by

Thomas Atkinson Jenkins. 1894. Geneva, Switz.: Slatkine Reprints, 1974.

113

Kölbing, Eugen. “Zwei mittelenglische Bearbeitungen der Sage von St. Patrik’s

Purgatorium.” Englische Studien 1 (1877): 57–121.

Mörner, Marianne, ed. Le Purgatoire de saint Patrice du manuscrit de la Bibliothèque

nationale fonds français 25545, pub. pour la première fois. Lund, Swed.: C. W.

K. Gleerup, 1920.

---, ed. Le Purgatoire de saint Patrice par Bérol. Lund, Swed.: PH. Lindstedt, 1917.

Picard, Jean-Michel, trans. Saint Patrick’s Purgatory: A Twelfth Century Tale of a

Journey to the Other World. Blackrock, Co. Dublin: Four Courts P, 1985.

Vising, Johan. “Le Purgatoire de Saint Patrice: Des manuscrits Harléien 273 et fonds

français 2198.” Göteborgs Högskolas Årsskrift 21 (1916). 1–87.

Warnke, Karl. Das Buch vom Espurgatoire S. Patrice der Marie de France und seine

Quelle. Halle/Saale, Ger.: M. Niemeyer, 1938.

Van der Zanden, C. M. Etude sur le Purgatoire de saint Patrice accompagné du texte

latin d’Utrecht et du texte anglo-normande de Cambridge. Amsterdam: H. J.

Paris, 1927.

Secondary Sources

Barban, Judith A. “Saints Clerical and Courtly in the Espurgatoire Seint Patriz of Marie

de France.” Cygne: Journal of the International Marie de France Society 2

(2004): 7–18.

Bloch, R. Howard. “Other Worlds and Other Words in the Works of Marie de France.”

The World and Its Rival: Essays on Literary Imagination in Honor of Per Nykrog.

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Ed. Kathryn Karczewska and Tom Conley. Faux Titre 172. Amsterdam: Rodopi,

1999. 39–57.

Dean, Ruth J., and Maureen B. M. Boulton. Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to Texts

and Manuscripts. Anglo-Norman Text Society Occasional Publications Series 3.

London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1999.

Easting, Robert. “Access to Heaven in Medieval Visions of the Otherworld.” Envisaging

Heaven in the Middle Ages. Ed. Carolyn Muessig and Ad Putter. Routledge

Studies in Medieval Religion and Culture 6. London: Routledge, 2006. 75–90.

---. “The Date and Dedication of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii.” Speculum:

A Journal of Medieval Studies 53 (1978): 778–83.

---. “The English Tradition.” The Medieval Pilgrimage to St Patrick's Purgatory: Lough

Derg and the European Tradition. Ed. Michael Haren and Yolande de Pontfarcy.

Enniskillen, Ire.: Clogher Historical Society, 1988. 58–82.

---. “The Middle English ‘Hearne Fragment’ of St. Patrick’s Purgatory.” Notes and

Queries 35 (1988): 436–37.

---. “Middle English Translations of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii.” The

Medieval Translator II. Ed. Roger Ellis. Westfield Publications in Medieval

Studies 5. London: Centre for Medieval Studies, Queen Mary and Westfield

College, University of London, 1991. 151–74.

---. “Owein at St. Patrick’s Purgatory.” Medium Ævum 55 (1986): 159–75.

---. “Peter of Cornwall’s Account of St. Patrick’s Purgatory.” Analecta Bollardiana 97

(1979): 397–416.

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---. “Purgatory and the Earthly Paradise in the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii.”

Cîteaux: Commentarii Cistercienses 37 (1986): 23–48.

---. “The South English Legendary ‘St Patrick’ as Translation.” Leeds Studies in English

21 (1990): 119–40.

---. “St. Patrick’s Purgatory: Fragments of a Second Copy of the Middle English

Stanzaic Owayne Miles.” Medium Ævum 75 (2006): 84–102.

---, ed. St. Patrick’s Purgatory: Two Versions of Owayne Miles and The Vision of

William of Stranton together with the Long Text of the Tractatus de Purgatorio

Sancti Patricii. EETS os 298. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1991.

Illingworth, R. N. “An Example of Numerical Composition in Old French Literature:

The Espurgatoire of Marie de France.” Zeitschrift für Französische Sprache und

Literatur 95 (1985): 151–62.

Krueger, Roberta L. “Marie de France.” The Cambridge Companion to Medieval

Women’s Writing. Ed. Carolyn Dinshaw and David Wallace. Cambridge:

Cambridge UP, 2003. 172–83.

Le Goff, Jacques. The Birth of Purgatory. Trans. Arthur Goldhammer. Chicago: U of

Chicago P, 1984.

Legge, M. Dominica. Anglo-Norman Literature and its Background. Oxford:

Clarendon, 1963.

Leonard, Bonnie H. “The Inscription of a New Audience: Marie de France’s

Espurgatoire Seint Patriz.” RLA: Romance Languages International 5 (1993):

57–62.

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Locke, F. W. “A New Date for the Composition of the Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti

Patricii.” Speculum 40 (1965): 641–46.

Lyle, E. B. “The Visions in St. Patrick’s Purgatory, Thomas the Rhymer, and The

Daemon Lover.” Neuphilologische Mitteilungen: Bulletin de la Société

Neophilologique/Bulletin of the Modern Language Society (Helsinki, Finland).

72 (1971): 716–22.

Pacheco, Arseni. “St. Patrick’s Purgatory: The Waning of a Legend.” Catalan Review:

International Journal of Catalan Culture. 13.1–2 (1999): 173–88.

Pickens, Rupert T. “Marie de France Translatrix.” Cygne: Journal of the International

Marie de France Society 1 (2002): 7–24.

Pike, David L. “‘Le dreit enfer vus mosterruns’: Marie de France’s Espurgatoire seint

Patriz.” Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies 32 (2001): 43–57.

Pontfarcy, Yolande de. “Le Tractatus de Purgatorio Sancti Patricii de. H. de Saltrey: Sa

date et ses sources.” Peritia: Journal of the Medieval Academy of Ireland 3

(1984): 460–80.

Warmuz, Anna. “Between Heaven and Hell—A Journey of Purification in Saint

Patrick’s Purgatory.” Ironies of Art/Tragedies of Life. Ed. Liliana Sikorska.

Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2005. 15–26.

Wilde, Peter M. de. “Les Voyages au purgatoire de Saint Patrice: Illusion de la réalité,

réalité de l’illusoire.” Fifteenth-Century Studies 24 (1998): 143–58.

117

Wright, Thomas. St. Patrick’s Purgatory; an Essay on the Legends of Purgatory, Hell,

and Paradise, Current During the Middle Ages. London: John Russell Smith,

1844.

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Notes

1 “The Purgatory” refers to St. Patrick’s Purgatory specifically, while “purgatory” refers

to the idea of purgatory in general.

2 Stephen reigned 1135–54 except April through November 1141 when Matilda was declared but not crowned queen.

3 For information on the historical Gervase, first Abbot of Louth, and Gilbert, later Abbot

of Basingwerk, see Ward (2:436–37).

4 Roberta L. Krueger believes it was written ca. 1179–85 (180). Ruth J. Dean and

Maureen B. M. Boulton believe it was written ca. 1185 (302); M. Dominica Legge agrees

with this date (Anglo-Norman 239–40), as does Peter M. de Wilde (143), while Anna

Warmuz believes it was written 1180–84 (15), Yolande de Pontfarcy 1184–88 or –90

(464–65), and Marianne Mörner between 1180 and 1190 (Le Purgatoire . . . du manuscrit vii). Joseph Szövérffy believes it was written about 1190 (116), and F. W. Locke 1208–

15 (646). David L. Pike opts for the period 1153–1215 (43).

5 Thomas Wright reports that in B. de Roquefort’s Poésies de Marie de France, a two- volume work published in Paris in 1820 and 1832, the writer claims that Owein is actually Yvain, son of Urien of the Round Table, and protagonist in Le Chevalier au Lion by Chrétien de Troyes. “But since M. de Roquefort has not even hinted at any authority for such an opinion, it can hardly be taken for anything more than a fanciful idea of his own” (Wright, St. Patrick’s 62).

6 The quotations from the Purgatoire s. Patrice are taken from the edition by Vising. The translations are my own.

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7 However, as Bynum writes, souls that travel to the otherworld sometimes return with physical injuries: “Those who return from near death are sometimes said to manifest in their resumed earthly bodies the marks of what has happened to them on their voyage beyond this life” (295).

8 For more information on these manuscripts, see Warnke viii.

9 In the parenthetical documentation, the first page number is that of the Latin text, the second, the English translation.

10 In the parenthetical documentation, the first page number is that of the Latin text, the second, the French translation.

11 The line references are to Warnke’s edition.

12 Note, however, that the French text of this version, that found in Paris, Bibliothèque

Nationale, fonds français 2198, avoids the use of the knight’s name. According to

Vising, this is because the scribe was continental French and was unfamiliar with the

British name Owein, so he simply omitted it wherever he found it (Vising 59, note to line

87).

13 Since the texts of both OM1 and OM2 are found in Kölbing, and since OM1 is stanzaic, parenthetical references to OM1 will consist of the page number, stanza, and line (e.g.

100.29.1), while references to OM2 will consist of the page and line (e.g. 114.96–9).

CHAPTER IV

SHORT METRICAL CHRONICLE

The Short Metrical Chronicle, copied perhaps two years after the Purgatoire s.

Patrice, tells of the kings of Britain from the time of the legendary arrival of Brutus in

Britain to the execution of Piers Gaveston in 1312 during the reign of Edward II (r. 1307–

1327). Although the Chronicle tends to be overshadowed by the much longer and more famous Prose Brut, this chronicle is important because it is to an extent connected with

the other, and because its emphases and purpose are very different from those of the other

work. The Chronicle exists in five complete versions and three fragments, of which that in the hand of the Ludlow scribe of Harley 2253 is the oldest. Although the work is not considered to be a romance per se, it does contain romance characteristics. The scribe’s text of the Short Metrical Chronicle shows what appears to be a keen interest in history.

In fact, from the point of view of historical detail, this version is often the most clear and the most correct. The scribe tries very hard to describe events and situations in such a way that his audience will understand them, while many of the other scribes simply run through the facts. In addition, there is a strong emphasis on kingship, on the actions that good kings perform, and on the importance of the continuity of the monarchy. Finally, although written in English, the Ludlow scribe’s version of the text suggests, unlike the other versions, a definite Norman bias.

120 121

Synopsis

The narrative begins with the conquest of Britain by Brutus, which is given in far more detail than any other event in the chronicle. One thousand two hundred years before the birth of Christ, Brutus, his champion Corineus, and his men arrive in Albion from Troy. At that time, the land is ruled by the giant Geomagog. The Trojans fight well and finally capture Geomagog. Corineus requests and is granted the opportunity to wrestle with the king of the giants. The battle lasts all day; Brutus finally tells Corineus that the latter’s honor would suffer if the news spread that the champion could not overcome an enemy for so long. Also, he adds, what would Corineus’s lady think?

Corineus, inspired, wins quickly, throwing Geomagog into the sea. Brutus names the land “Cornwall” in honor of Corineus, begins to build London, naming it “New Troy,” and decides what parts of Britain his three sons will rule. Brutus himself rules for one hundred fifty years and he (or his son Albanactus; the text is unclear) is buried at

Westminster.

The narrative continues with brief descriptions of the kings, generally listing how long they rule and where they are buried. Sometimes the text mentions cities built or other deeds accomplished by the kings, periodically giving a brief assessment of whether or not the king is good or virtuous. Included are occasional descriptions of marvels and a miracle as well as references to important events in world history outside Britain, particularly to biblical events.

Most of the descriptions of kings are very short, but a few include more details.

Bladud, for instance, is described as being a sorcerer who builds hot baths. The author

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describes how the baths are built, even listing the chemicals used to keep them hot.

Arthur, too, is discussed in some detail. He is the best of kings, and while he rules, chivalry is practiced. He runs the Romans out of Britain, and would have taken Rome except that news reaches him of Mordred’s treachery in taking both Britain and

Guenevere for his own. Arthur returns, conquers Mordred, and lives another ten years.

The accounts of the legendary kings end and those of the historical kings begin about forty percent of the way through the Short Metrical Chronicle. The first of the historical kings is Egbryth, the historical Ecgberht, who reigned as king of West Saxons from 802 to 839.1 Alured (Alfred the Great, r. 871–899) is praised as the wisest of the

kings.2 He divides his day and night into three periods of eight hours each, spending

eight hours praying and doing acts of charity, eight resting, and eight thinking and

making provisions for the future of his realm. Similarly, he budgets his money, giving

some for service, some to the poor, and the rest to churches.3 King Edgar, another great

king (r. 959–975), is wise, just, and holy.4 When Edgar has been dead sixty years, he is

disinterred to be placed into a new coffin. When the abbot uncovers the body, he sees

that it appears just as it had before burial; it is completely uncorrupted. Unfortunately,

the new coffin is too short, so Edgar’s legs have to be cut off at the knees. When this happens, the body miraculously bleeds. This event inspires the miraculous healing of several people.

The chronicle not only tells of kings, but also of other interesting persons in history. The treacherous Edrich (Edric), for example, is steward to Athelred (the

Unready, r. 978–1016).5 The Danes, led by Havelok, arrive and slay the king. Edmound

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Irnenside (Edmund Ironside, r. 1016) becomes king briefly, then dies when he is betrayed by Edrich.6 Knout (Cnut, r. 1016–1035) then becomes king.7 Edrich is angry one day

with Knout and brags that he betrayed a good king so that Knout could seize the crown.

Knout, angered, has Edrich put to death as a traitor to his old master. Eventually, Pieres

de Gauaston (Piers Gaveston) is a favorite of King Edward (II). The barons believe

Gaveston has too great an influence on the king, call him a traitor, take him to

Warwickshire, and behead him. The chronicle ends abruptly at this point.

Transmission History

Although they are similar in many ways, the great Prose Brut has always overshadowed the Short Metrical Chronicle. The two are related to an extent. For this reason, I will first briefly discuss the transmission history of the Brut before continuing to that of the Short Metrical Chronicle.

The influence of the Prose Brut cannot be overestimated. According to Lister M.

Matheson, it was “the most popular secular work of the Middle Ages in England” and

“the first chronicle printed in England, [passing] through thirteen editions between 1480

and 1528” (“Historical Prose” 210). The work was immensely popular and continued to

serve as the standard of English history for several centuries. Alan MacColl claims that

“The Prose Brut did more than any other single work to establish the history of ancient

Britain derived from Geoffrey of Monmouth as the first chapter of the history of England,

promoting a historically momentous conception of English nationhood in which a key

part was played by the exclusive claim to an imaginary British heritage,” that of Brutus,

Arthur, Merlin, and others (290).

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The Prose Brut survives today in over 240 manuscripts in Anglo-Norman, Latin, and English (Matheson, The Prose Brut 1). The original Anglo-Norman form of the chronicle opens with the discovery of Britain by Brut (Brutus) of Troy and concludes in

1272 with the death of Henry III (Matheson, The Prose Brut 1, 4).8 Matheson’s

classification of the various versions can be seen in Figure 2 below.

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Anglo-Norman Prose Brut in 49 known MSS: Common Text: Stage 1: original A-N Brut to 1272

Stage 2: original plus continuation to 1307

ca. 1350, “Short” and “Long” versions written. “Short Version”: Stage 1: “[C]ommon text to 1307 plus the “short continuation” to 1333 (ending with an English raid on Haddington Fair in Scotland)” (4). Stage 2: Previous “plus the Albina verse prologue” (4).

“Long Version” Common text to 1307, “much revised (including the addition of Merlin’s prophecies and many factual details), plus the Albina prose prologue and the “long continuation” to 1333 (ending with the battle of Halidon Hill)” (4)

Latin versions of Prose Brut in 19 MSS: First version: Based on Stage 2 of A-N “Short Version,” except with verse prologue now in Latin prose, and continuing to 1066. “Thereafter, two of the three manuscripts of this version continue with a Latin chronicle not based on the vernacular Bruts, ending in 1367” (5)

Second version: Partially based on ME Brut ending in 1437. Contains Albina prologue from first Latin version. Many revisions; two subgroups, one of which was later retranslated into English.

Third version: One MS; “translation into Latin of the prose prologue from the Long Version of the Anglo-Norman Brut” (5).

Middle English versions of Prose Brut in 181 MSS and 13 early printed editions. Some are composite texts, so Matheson gives 215 as actual number of texts.

Common Version: based on A-N “Long Version” “It gives rise to all other English Brut texts, aside from John Mandeville’s independent translation from the Anglo-Norman Long Versions” (6). Has a number of subgroups.

Extended Version: includes an exordium “describing the historical origins of the Brut itself”; the words “Some time . . .” at the beginning of the Albina prologue”; and “details borrowed from the Short English Metrical Chronicle” “in the prologue and early parts of the narrative” (7). Three subgroups. Abbreviated Version: includes exordium, sometimes same details as those found in Extended Version. Complex relationships with both Extended Version and Common Version. Peculiar Texts and Versions: “consisting of individual reworkings of Brut texts, works based on or adapted from the Brut, and combinations of the Brut with adaptations of other works” (8).

Fig. 2 Matheson’s Classification of the Various Versions of the Prose Brut

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Source: Lister M. Matheson, The Prose Brut: The Development of a Middle English

Chronicle, Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies 180 (Tempe, AZ:

Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1998), 4–8.

The “Albina prologue,” which appears in some of the Prose Brut versions and also in one manuscript of the Short Metrical Chronicle, explains the origin of the giants that Brutus finds when he arrives in Britain. Albina, or Albine, the eldest daughter of a king, and her thirty-two sisters are married to kings, whom they later either plot to kill or actually do kill, depending on the version. The princesses are banished and placed on a ship that eventually arrives in Britain. Albina names the country “Albion,” after herself. After a time, the princesses are consumed by lust; the devil intervenes to satisfy their desires, and the resulting offspring comprise a race of giants who rule the island until the arrival of

Brutus (Matheson, The Prose Brut 2).

The sources of the Prose Brut and its date of composition have puzzled scholars for many years. As Robert Huntington Fletcher suggests, “To trace the exact pedigree of the Brut is probably impossible” (215). Julia Marvin, who recently published an edition of the oldest known Anglo-Norman version of the Prose Brut, summarizes the origins of the work, saying it is “A selective and creative synthesis of material—vernacular and

Latin, historiographic and hagiographic, monastic and secular, in prose and verse— fashioned into a coherent narrative of the British past” (40). Matheson, looking at the big picture, argues that “The ultimate source [of the Bruts] is, of course, Geoffrey [of

Monmouth]’s Historia [regum Britanniae/History of the Kings of Britain], but the

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immediate source of the original Anglo-Norman narrative was probably a version of

Wace’s Roman de Brut (followed by a text of Gaimar’s Estoire des Engles, from which succeeding material is taken)” (King Arthur 254). One of Matheson’s test passages for determining whether a particular manuscript is one of the Extended or Abbreviated

Versions includes “distinctive treatments of the description of the giants in the Albina narrative, which incorporates details derived from the Short English Metrical Chronicle, especially the inclusion of extra named giants and the giants’ sizes” (The Prose Brut 53).

This application of the Short Metrical Chronicle shows that the Prose Brut and its continuations used many varied sources to provide detail for the narrative. The composition date of the original Anglo-Norman version is variously given as 1272 to ca.

1300, the presumed date of the earliest surviving manuscript (Matheson, The Prose Brut

30); 1272–1338, “with the content itself suggesting a date before 1307, and possibly well before then” (Marvin 41); or the mid-fourteenth century, the date assigned by M. B.

Parkes based on paleographic evidence, according to a personal communication with

Marvin (Marvin 41). The Middle English translation of the French text “may have been compiled between 1350 and 1380 (Taylor, “French” 252), or 1380–1400 (Matheson, The

Prose Brut 47–48).

Interest in the Prose Brut continues with the large, grant-funded Imagining

History Project at Queens University, Belfast, under the guidance of John J. Thompson.9

According to Stephen Kelly and Jason O’Rourke, “little or no attempt has yet been made to explore the implications of how ‘the English Brut tradition’ helped shape the varying conceptions of history and identity animating late medieval textual culture in Britain and

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Ireland, particularly in the light of the reading networks within which Brut texts were produced and across which they subsequently traveled” (42). The project staff studies the

Middle English Prose Brut and its context, culturally mapping the texts and studying their reception, then publishes articles and makes available electronic resources of its findings, which are of particular interest to historiographers (45).

The Short Metrical Chronicle survives in only five complete texts and three fragments. The hypothetical original text begins with the arrival of Brut in Britain and ends with the death of Edward I (r. 1272–1307) and the accession of Edward II (r. 1307–

1327).10 Edward D. Kennedy argues that in its original form it consisted of about 900

lines, making it shorter than any of the surviving complete versions, which range from

about 1,000 to about 2,400 lines (2622). It is generally accepted that the original was an

Anglo-Norman metrical version (Legge, “The Brut Abridged” 33, O’Farrell-Tate 16).

Although not nearly so popular, the Middle English Short Metrical Chronicle is

similar in a number of ways to the Prose Brut, including its use of some of the same

sources.11 According to Fletcher, the Short Metrical Chronicle’s ultimate source is

Geoffrey’s Historia regum Britanniae, but “the direct source is some intermediate

versions.” Sometimes the author expanded, but usually he abridged the information he

used (198). Carolyn D. Eckhardt argues that the author used Robert of Gloucester’s The

Metrical Chronicle of England, “and perhaps also Geoffrey and Wace, along with other sources” (201), while R. Sternberg gave the sources specifically of the version found in

Royal 12.C.XII as primarily Robert of Gloucester’s chronicle, secondarily William of

Malmesbury’s Gesta Regum Anglorum; also to a lesser extent Wace’s Roman de Brut and

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Laзamon B, perhaps Geoffrey’s Historia Regum Britanniae and others (407). Thorlac

Turville-Petre notes that the Chronicle often abridges its sources so much that it is difficult to trace the information to any particular source (75).

The purpose of the Short Metrical Chronicle seems to have been pedagogical, “to teach the main facts to the uneducated,” according to Kennedy (2622). Matheson agrees, suggesting that it may also have been intended “simply for light entertainment” (King

Arthur 253), while Joseph Ritson went further, stating that “There can be no doubt that this and similar chronicles were compose’d for the purpose of being sung in publick to the harp” (3: 337). The Chronicle seems to be a form of “history light”: it is brief, interspersed with interesting details, and metrical, which would make it relatively easy to memorize and recite. It was perhaps intended for an audience less educated and less likely to spend long hours studying history than was the Prose Brut’s audience. I disagree with Ritson that the Chronicle was meant to be sung like a lay, and I can find no other critic who agrees with him. There is simply not enough connected narrative to make it interesting as a song, even though it works well as a poem for recitation. Even in our day, some students in Britain are required to learn the chronology of their monarchs.12 A metrical version of the relevant facts is easier to memorize than a prose

version.

Ewald Zettl, who published an edition of the Short Metrical Chronicle in 1935, offered the most detailed analysis to date on the relationships of the manuscripts. He concluded that, of all extant versions, the one found in Manuscript R, Royal 12.C.XII, is closest to the hypothetical original text, along with hypothetical version x, which is the

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basis of all the other versions (xxxiv–xxxvi). Royal is thus unique among the surviving versions, as it is the only one directly related to the original. This version contains 1,037 lines and includes a short continuation, ending with the execution of Piers Gaveston in

1312. It was written in 1312 or later, and copied by the Ludlow scribe ca. 1316 to 1317

(Revard, “Scribe” 58). This means that it was written very close to the time of the earliest known version of the Prose Brut, and perhaps forty to ninety years before the

Brut was translated into English. Zettl concluded that Manuscript F (Cambridge

University Library Ff. V. 48) agrees in many cases with R against the other complete versions and one of the fragments, so whereas F is based on x, the others are based on a common source y (xxxvi–xxxvii). Manuscript F contains 1,014 lines and ends with the death of Edward I in 1307 and a prayer for Edward II. It was copied in the fifteenth century (Zettl xiii). Of those manuscripts based on y, Zettl listed Manuscript A,

Manuscript H, and the hypothetical version z (xlii). The version found in Manuscript A

(National Library of Scotland, Adv. MS 19.2.1—the Auchinleck manuscript) is the longest by far, at 2,370 lines. It begins uniquely with the Albina prologue and ends with the death of Edward II in 1327 and a prayer for Edward III. The version was probably composed in 1327 or 1328, and the copy made 1330 to 1340 (xvi). Version H is

Bodleian Library, MS Rawl. Poet. 145—the Rawlinson fragment. It consists of “seven mutilated leaves of vellum, disarranged by the binder,” and the copy can be dated to about 1320 or the first half of the fourteenth century (Zettl xxiii–xxiv). Zettl found that

Manuscripts B and D are closely related and are based on z (xxxvii–xl). The version found in Manuscript B, BM Additional MS 19677 (the base version of Zettl’s edition) is

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1,061 lines in length, ending with the death of Edward I in 1307 and a prayer for Edward

II. William Aldis Wright dated the manuscript to ca. 1390 to 1400 (Robert of Gloucester xli), and Zettl agreed (xi). Manuscript D (Cambridge University Library Dd. XIV. 2) is written in three parts, of which the first ends with the death of Edward I in 1307 and a prayer for Edward II in 1,145 lines. There are two continuations: the first omits Edward

II, beginning with Edward III (r. 1327–1377) and ending in the eighth year of Henry VI’s reign (r. 1422–1461); the second is a collection of notes primarily on Henry VI’s ninth year. This copy was made in the first half of the fifteenth century (xviii–xix). The second fragment studied by Zettl, Manuscript C, Cotton Caligula A XI, is a single leaf containing 47 lines with writing on one side only. The passage concerns the hot baths built by King Bladud. Zettl declared that the passage was copied out of a version of the

Chronicle in the first half of the fourteenth century. He concluded that this is not a copy of any known version (xlii–xliii).

Manuscript G (Cambridge University Library Gg. I. i), in Anglo-Norman prose ending with the death of Edward I in 1307 and headed “le Brute Dengletere abrege,” is usually considered to be a variant of the Short Metrical Chronicle, but its exact relationship to the known versions is still a matter of much debate. It was written in the early fourteenth century (Meyer, “Les Manuscrits” 283). Paul Meyer, writing in 1878, declared of it, “Elle est écrite en un français étrange; il semble qu’on lise un poëme mis en prose par une main malhabile” [It is written in strange French; it seems that one is reading a poem put into prose by an unskillful writer] (“De quelques chroniques” 106).

M. Dominica Legge argued that because it is so bad, it could not possibly be a

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translation: “Now the idea that in the fourteenth century any one should have thought it worth his while to turn an English text of a popular type into indifferent French is an unexpected one, and if this theory could be proved it would be extremely interesting”

(“The Brut Abridged” 32). Legge asserted that the text is probably older than all the extant English manuscripts, and that it is not based on any of them, but that it is based on the same lost French metrical original as the English versions (32–33). Zettl, to the contrary, asserted that it is a translation of an early English metrical version of the

Chronicle: “This version and y go back to one common source, w, which in turn was copied from x as was F” (xliii–xliv). Turville-Petre agrees with Zettl (180). Arranged chronologically by date of copying, the surviving complete Middle English manuscripts would be ordered as follows: R, A, B, perhaps D and then F, or F and then D. (See

Figure 3 below for a graphical representation of Zettl’s manuscript relationships. C is not included because there is too little data available to make a determination, and BPH

M199—discussed below—was not yet discovered.)

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O

x R

w F

G y

H A z

D B

Fig. 3 Zettl’s Relationships Among the Manuscripts of the Short Metrical Chronicle

Source: Ewald Zettl, An Anonymous Short English Metrical Chronicle, Early English

Text Society os 196 (1935) (New York: Kraus Reprint, 1971), xlv.

Zettl did not consider the third fragment because Peter Grund only reported it in

2006. This text is found in Bibliotheca Philosophica Hermetica, Amsterdam, MS M199 and is a fragment of 73 lines in a number of late sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century hands (Grund 278). The text mainly concerns the story of King Bladud and the hot baths, followed by brief accounts of Col, Leir, Gonnehold/Denewold, Merlin, and Belyn and

Bren. The manuscript is “primarily devoted to alchemy,” and Grund suggests that the person who copied this part of the Chronicle was interested in the text’s description of a

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heat source that could conceivably be used to turn base metals into gold, or that he interpreted part of the description as being that of a useful solvent (280–82). Grund concludes that the fragment is not based exclusively on any known version: “Possibly the exemplar of BPH M199 was x or w, the hypothetical ancestors of F and G respectively that Zettl suggests . . . or a manuscript copied from x or w. But this is far from certain”

(288). Perhaps the most important aspect of this fragment is the late date of the hand, showing, as it does, that someone was interested in the Chronicle several hundred years after it was first written.

The Short Metrical Chronicle has never been popular among critics. This is perhaps due to its extensive use of Robert of Gloucester’s chronicle. William Aldis

Wright, who published an edition of Robert’s chronicle in 1887 and could be expected to view it favorably, remarked, on the contrary, that “the power of producing doggerel verse, in ballad metre, of which this is a gigantic specimen, appears to have been a not uncommon accomplishment at the end of the thirteenth century” (Robert of Gloucester,

1: xxxix). And later:

As history, . . . the Chronicle possesses no original value except for the

period of the barons’ war in the reign of Henry the Third, when the

narrative becomes that of a contemporary. As literature, it is as worthless

as twelve thousand lines of verse without one spark of poetry can be.

Here and there we find a trace of quiet humor in which gentle dullness

delights, but of this the instances are rare and widely scattered. (xxxix–xl)

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About the Short Metrical Chronicle itself, Turville-Petre remarks that, “Its only quality is brevity . . . . It supplies a complete survey that can be read at a sitting after dinner or dipped into for information on who Athelstan’s son was, or who followed William the

Conqueror” (108). Discussing it as a “wretched little work,” Turville-Petre argues that the large number of lines devoted to the initial episode of Brut, Corineus, and the giants

(about one-tenth the length of the entire chronicle) suggests that the author “had intended to write something rather longer” (108–09). He then lists a number of errors in what he terms “a careless and ignorant survey” of history, from the duration of reigns of some kings to confusion about the reign of Henry II’s son. Fletcher, whose interest is in the

Arthurian material, notes that there are many changes to this material in the Chronicle from what they were in the sources: “[The author] omits Aurelius altogether, and dismisses Uther with six lines. He brings in Arthur before the British Lucius and

“Fortiger” (Vortigern), evidently because his brief mention of the latter makes a good transition to the account of the Saxon period which follows” (198). Because of these perceived faults, the Chronicle is not a highly-regarded work.

The version of the Short Metrical Chronicle that has consistently drawn the harshest criticism is also the longest one: that found in the Auchinleck manuscript. As early as 1936, G. V. Smithers, writing about the Chronicle, noted with scorn “its appropriation by one redactor who turned it into the obviously minstrel-like account preserved in the Auchinleck MS” (67–70). Sixty years later, Turville-Petre detailed his criticism of this version: The Liber Regum Anglie (as it is called in Auchinleck) “is a version of the Short Metrical Chronicle that has been extensively reworked with

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revisions and additions that are sometimes quite extraordinary” (108). In particular, he notes the addition of Hengist, who was not a king, so does not appear in the other versions of the Chronicle: “The wild invention of the Auchinleck adaptor relies on a pretty comprehensive ignorance in its readers, for Hengist is portrayed as the ideal British king, successor to Belin and followed, after a 250-year reign, by Lear.”13 Turville-Petre

continues with more details, including Hengist’s conjuring of demons to build a bridge

across the Channel, which he describes as “extraordinary nonsense” (109). Nonsense though it may be, the Auchinleck’s version of the Chronicle is highly entertaining.

Readers of the Auchinleck’s many famous romances appreciated colorful narrative. One

might compare the readers of this version in particular, and of the Short Metrical

Chronicle in general, to modern readers of historical fiction to whom exact historical

detail is less important than is a good story.

Whereas the Prose Brut was highly regarded for many centuries in three

languages, the Short Metrical Chronicle continued quietly in a handful of versions in

Middle English and at least one Anglo-Norman text. For the most part, the Chronicle

appears to have slowly faded away over the course of the fifteenth century, while the Brut

enjoyed a longer life as it went through thirteen editions as a printed text.

Structure and Argument

On the surface, the Short Metrical Chronicle is simply a list, with very little

elaboration, of the kings of England. Zettl certainly saw it this way: “It is obvious that

the sole object of the original version was to serve as a rapid survey of English history”

(cxxx). Turville-Petre agrees: “The work has no overall structure apart from the history

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of the country, and there are no themes or ideological issues that the author tries to develop beyond the basic one of “hou Inglond first bigan”” (109). On a more fundamental level, however, there are indeed underlying themes: those of good and bad kingship and the continuity of the monarchy over an underlying fabric of Christianity.

Although the work is essentially a chronological list of the kings, some of these are given a greater number of lines than others, some are discussed in more detail, and some are the object of subjective authorial comments. Matheson notes that in the Prose

Brut, post-Conquest kings are discussed in more detail than earlier ones except for Arthur

(The Prose Brut 3). This is, however, definitely not the case in the Short Metrical

Chronicle. The longest section, that recounting Brut’s arrival in and conquest of

England, takes up the first tenth of the entire work (1–100).14 Other lengthy accounts are given for Bladud (167–212), Arthur (261–306), Alured (Alfred the Great, 476–533),

Alured’s son Edward (534–77, r. 899–924), Athelston (578–655, r. 924–939), Edgar

(698–775), and Knout (Cnut, 828–83), all of whom reigned, actually or literarily, before the Conquest.15 These accounts from the first are interspersed with brief historical notes

relating to biblical events. Once Christianity arrives in England, the religious

interventions become part of the primary text itself as kings become linked closely with

the Church.

The earliest kings of England are pagan, but they are shown in relation to biblical

events that serve both to foreshadow the monarchy’s role as Christian kings and to

increase the credibility of the narrative. No mention is made of Brut’s religion, but his

arrival is described chronologically in relation to the birth of Christ: “A þousent & tuo

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hondred зer / Er þen Marie Crist ber” (9–10). Later references are to the prophet Elijah

(101–06) and the rule of David’s descendents in Jerusalem (147–48). Back in England,

King Bladud practices necromancy (169); although not portrayed as an evil man, when he dies, he goes to the Devil since Christ has not yet been born (209–12). Pope Eleutherie

(Eleutherius, pope ca. 174–189) helps bring Christianity to Britain (307–18), and from his time onward, the kings are often discussed in relation to the Church. After Fortiger

(Vortigern, fl. ca. 440) is driven from England, the country is divided among five kings.

For each, the counties and bishops in his realm are listed (341–405). Hugh, the king of

France, gives gifts to Athelston when he is to marry Athelston’s sister.16 These gifts are

greatly appreciated and include possessions of the great Christian kings of old as well as a number of relics of the crucifixion: Constantine’s sword, “þe spere / Þat Charlemayne

wes wonet to bere / Tofore þe holy legioun” part of the cross, and three thorns from the

crown of thorns (628–41). King Edgar (r. 959–975) is described in saintly terms. At his

birth, angels sing that there would be peace in his time as long as St. Dunstan lives (698–

739; he died in 988). Sixty years after Edgar’s death, he is disinterred and the body

miraculously bleeds. This event inspires the equally miraculous healing of three people:

a madman, a blind man, and a cripple (740–75).

The continuity of the monarchy is an important factor throughout the Short

Metrical Chronicle. Una O’Farrell-Tate, editor of a recent edition of the Royal text,

notes that “The focus of interest . . . is primarily on the action of succession itself and any

unusual or interesting events which may have occurred during the reigns” (32).

Throughout the narrative, the assumption that the son succeeds his father to the throne

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and that the reigning monarch dies of natural causes is implicit. Primogeniture, however,

“became the norm only in the eleventh and twelfth centuries” (Bouchard 69), so here we have a case of later writers imposing their own practices on the past.17 Although we

know that primogeniture is often not the case, it is presented here as fact. These accounts

serve to justify the succession and to suggest that it is peaceful, logical, and religiously

sanctioned. Brut of Troy, the son of Aeneas, himself the son of the goddess Venus

(Tanner 13), is presented as the founder of England, the first of its kings. The importance

of Brut is underlined by the great number of lines dedicated to his part of the Chronicle.

After him come many others, in a virtually unbroken succession, emphasizing the fitness

of these kings to rule, a concept known as translatio imperii (transfer of rule).18 Trojan

ancestry was particularly important to the Norman aristocracy in England. Because they

felt the need to legitimize their status as the ruling class of England, a number of Norman

families sought or invented a Trojan past (Blumenfeld-Kosinski 4). For example, three

of the most famous classical romances were translated from Latin into French verse in the

mid-twelfth century, then into French prose in the early thirteenth century: Le Roman de

Thèbes, Le Roman d’Énéas, and Le Roman de Troie (Lynde-Recchia 36–37). These romances were altered in places in order to point up (or to create) similarities to the

Anglo-Norman court of Henry II (r. 1154–1189) and Eleanor d’Aquitaine (Blumenfeld-

Kosinski 3). Implicit in this Trojan connection was the idea that the kings of England

were divinely descended from the gods of Greece.

The monarchy tends to continue from father to son; however, there are a few

exceptions to this general rule. After the death of Athelston, the text says that his son

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Edmound (Edmund) becomes king (r. 939–946). The scribe of the Royal text has added at the bottom of the page, however, “Ah ase seggeþ somme oþer / Edmound wes

Athelstones broþer” (656–59).19 This same Edmound dies by violence at the hand of an assassin who slays him with a knife (664–79). Edward, the son of the saintly Edgar, is poisoned by his stepmother so that her own son Athelred (the Unready) will become king

(776–84). When “William þe rede kyng” (William Rufus, r. 1087–1100) dies, his brother

Henry succeeds him (936–37; r. 1100–1135). Finally, Henry II (r. 1154–1189) is portrayed as being unwise when he crowns his son Henry (co-reigned 1170–1183) to reign while he, the father, is still alive. This action, described as “a suiþe wonder þing”

[a very wondrous thing] (957) goes against the accepted tradition of succession. We read without surprise that father and son do not get along well while both wear crowns, and that the son dies first, so his father continues to reign for five years afterwards (948–79).

Good and bad kings are variously portrayed according to their many qualities and deeds. Just as in the Prose Brut, the emphasis is “on moral and practical matters: good and bad government, the moral character of kings . . .” (MacColl 300). This type of description “emphasizes the behaviour expected of a good king but also throws into relief individual deviations from what has become familiar or expected behaviour” (O’Farrell-

Tate 32). In the pagan days of England, the king is not Christian, so he has to demonstrate moral excellence in other ways. Many of the early kings build cities and the infrastructure of England. When Brut arrives in England, we are told that there are no towns, houses, or plowed land, but “al wes wode & wildernesse” (19). The land is inhabited by giants, and although Brut and his men are pagans, the giants are portrayed as

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being akin to savage beasts. Geomagog, the king of the giants, is described as “þat foule

þing” (53). When Corineus overcomes Geomagog in a wrestling match, throwing him into the sea, Brut takes control of the country. His men plow the land, fell trees, and build towns, among them London (91–100). Brut is responsible to a large extent for civilizing England. When he (or his son Albanactus, it is unclear which) dies, he is buried at Westminster, the start of a long tradition that emphasizes again the continuity of the monarchy (121–22). Later kings continue to build: Eboras builds Euerwike (York)

(142–44), Lud Hudybras builds Caunterbury and the Ludgate in London (153, 164–66),

Bladud builds the hot baths (of Bath) (167–72), Leyr (Lear) Leircestre (Leicester) (213–

16), and the brothers Belyns and Brenne, four great roads stretching throughout England

(223–40). When the building is finished, the kings turn to conquest, chivalry, and justice.

Uther Pendragon, interestingly, is very briefly portrayed as a good king, conquering

England, Scotland, and Wales (255–60).

Arthur is given an extended portion of the narrative because he was considered the most famous of the kings. Although he reigns before Christianity arrives in England, he is portrayed as the very model of the ideal monarch:

He was þe beste kyng at nede

Þat euer mihte ride on stede,

Oþer wepne welde, oþer folk outlede.

Of mon ne hede he neuer drede.

He ne com neuer in none londe

Þat he ne hede þe herre hond.

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Þer nes neuer such king bifore,

Ne no[n] ne byht þer neuermore. (263–70)

We read, not surprisingly, “Whyl kyng Arthur wes alyue / In Bretaigne wes chyualerie”

(271–72). This is the legend, but the truth is that historically, knights as we know them were a product of the late tenth century, and chivalry did not develop until much later: the twelfth century, in fact (Bouchard 13–14). Among his other deeds, Arthur is credited with overcoming Luces (Lucius) in battle and stopping the payment of tribute to Rome

(283–86). He is bold and brave—a warrior king—but, being a pagan, he lacks a certain depth, a degree of humanity. Tamar Drukker notes that “we are given examples of

Arthur’s boldness and military prowess, but not of his kindness to the poor and his inclination towards social justice” (188). The same could be said for the other pagan kings. Although many of them must have performed deeds of kindness and justice, these are traditionally considered to be Christian virtues, and we must wait until Christianity arrives in England before we regularly see kings behaving in this more civilized fashion.

The virtuous pagan king was a popular topic of fourteenth century English literature (Grady 6, Minnis 1). These rulers were pagans, but they were also the descendents of Brutus and Aeneas, which made them worthy of kingship. This continuity—the direct line of Aeneas—greatly enhanced the prestige of the English monarchy. A number of the kings in the Chronicle are depicted as being particularly virtuous. “The past bequeaths to the present models for virtuous action, and the present engages in acts of will and memory designed to manifest its appreciation and indebtedness,” according to Frank Grady (29). The worthy monarchs demonstrate

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universally admirable qualities, qualities medieval readers could easily recognize and appreciate. The Chronicle reminds readers periodically by means of brief interspersed biblical references that, although England is still a pagan country, Christianity is progressing elsewhere in the world, and its spread to England is inevitable. At that point, monarchs will have the opportunity to be not only virtuous, but Christian as well, and so, in the eyes of the readers, yet more worthy to rule.

With the advent of Christianity in England, we see a different kind of “good” behavior from the kings, but the monarchs are not immune from the temptations of evil.

In fact, they often seem to exhibit worse behavior than their pagan predecessors did. This is perhaps simply because of a change in focus: in pagan times, rulers who exhibited

Christian characteristics were unusual enough to stand out and be interesting, whereas in

Christian times, it was the evil or unprincipled monarchs who operated contrary to

Christian mores who were most interesting to the readers of the Chronicle. Ethelwolf (r.

839–858) lives for several years in Rome, raising taxes in England a number of times, to the consternation of his people (432–39). Alured is portrayed as the first great Christian king. Whereas Arthur is described as a great warrior, Alured excels in wisdom; he is “Þe wiseste kyng þat euer et bred” (477). He is responsible for creating England’s laws (480–

81), and his daily schedule and spending habits are praised as being equitable, generous, and just (486–533). Edwyn (Eadwig, r. 955–959), in contrast, is one of the morally despicable kings:

He wes a king of gret pris

Ah of is bodi he wes vnwys.

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Þe furste dai þat croune nom

He birafte a god mon

Of ys wif for hire feirhede;

Of God he had lutel drede.

Зet heo wes his cosine:

Þe sore he seruede more pyne. (688–95)

He reigns, perhaps fortunately, for only four years (696).20 Edwyn is followed by the

saintly Edgar, as we have seen. Good kings are not limited, however, to the native kings

of England. As was discussed above, King Hugh of France is extremely generous when

he gives gifts to Athelston in return for the hand of the English king’s sister. Knout, too,

is a good king. Edrich, “Nes neuer traitour him ylich” [There was never a traitor to equal

him] (823), brags to Knout that he betrayed his former master so that Knout could

become king. Knout has Edrich bound and thrown out the window into the Thames

(788–881). Even though Edrich’s actions had helped Knout become king, Knout’s sense

of justice demands the steward’s execution for his betrayal of his former lord. Edrich had

betrayed his sworn lord, a very grave crime in medieval society. Finally, William Rufus

“wes luþer ant unwrest” [was wicked and evil] (922). Whereas the pagan kings had built

England, Rufus destroys a large part of it, including churches and chapels, to create the

New Forest, “Ant made wode þer wes toun” (927). We read that he received little profit from it, however, since Walter Tyrrell shot and killed him with an arrow while hunting deer (928–33). Despite occasional lapses, English monarchs are usually shown to be

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virtuous, and so admirable, men, worthy of their position and of the loyalty of their people.

Both the first and last episodes of the Chronicle concern the king’s gift of

Cornwall to one of his favorites. In the first case, Brut names part of the country

“Cornwall” in honor of his good champion Corineus and, in an admirable deed, gives him the land as a reward for his slaying of the giant Geomagog (85–90). At the very end of the text, the unpopular Edward II gives “þe erldome of Cornwayle” to his favorite, the undeserving Pieres of Gaueston (Piers Gaveston), as a token of his affection. Gaueston is later executed as a traitor at the hands of the king’s barons for having undue influence over the king (1024–37). Although Magna Carta is not mentioned in the Chronicle, its effect is seen in this final episode. As long as the king reigns in an accepted fashion, his vassals obey him. Should he step outside these boundaries, however, his vassals compel him to return to just rule.

The Short Metrical Chronicle is educational as well as occasionally entertaining.

Besides teaching the kings of England, it also teaches correct behavior and the importance of primogeniture. These lessons are of use not only to princes, but also to the sons of the gentry, the rising merchant class, and those who might someday serve as advisors to the king. Through these examples, youths learn the value of boldness, generosity, and justice. They also learn that God punishes evil. Finally, they gain respect for the long line of the English monarchy, seeing that it originated with the illustrious

Brut of Troy, has survived unbroken for many centuries, and will no doubt continue in like fashion in the ages to come.

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Genre of Romance

The Short Metrical Chronicle is a chronicle, and more specifically a Brut chronicle, but the word “chronicle” did not mean the same thing in the Middle Ages as it does now. The later medieval chronicle does, in fact, typically have strong romance underpinnings. Historical writing at that time, according to John Taylor, was of three types: annals, chronicles, and histories. Annals are histories written year by year; by the fourteenth century these had largely fallen from favor (English 37–38). Chronicles and histories, however, were both still being written:

Even before the fourteenth century certain writers had suggested that

chronicles offered a succinct account of events arranged in chronological

sequence, while histories provided a more detailed narrative treating the

subject matter more thoroughly, ad plenum. In the fourteenth century

“chronicle” covered almost any historical work; “histories” might be the

deeds themselves rather than writings about them. (Taylor, English 38)

Gervase of Canterbury, a monk and chronicler of the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, wrote similarly that while historians and chroniclers both strive to present the truth, they do so in different forms. Historians present their information elegantly and with detail, while chroniclers write simply and briefly (87). Likewise, M. T. Clanchy calls the chronicle “an unstylish production, concerned with the matter rather than the manner of presentation” (78). When an author set to work on a chronicle, “he usually copied the most ‘authentic’ source he could find. . . . The authenticity . . . was determined by the date of such texts, where this could be established, and by the authority which had

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issued or approved the text. The best authority was a text which had been approved or issued by a pope, emperor, or king” (Taylor, English 47–48). These texts need not contain factual information so long as the information they presented was authorized by an appropriately important person.

In the late Middle Ages, legendary material was considered to be part of history, and romance was similarly regarded (Matheson, “Historical Prose” 209; O’Farrell-Tate

12). The English Prose Brut begins by recounting legendary material and finishes with material that is primarily historical (Matheson, “Historical Prose” 210). The same is true of the Short Metrical Chronicle, and it is on the basis of this beginning—the legendary account of the arrival of Brut in England and his subsequent conquest of the country— that both the Prose Brut and the Short Metrical Chronicle are classified as Brut chronicles. The ultimate source for both the Prose Brut and the Chronicle is Geoffrey of

Monmouth. Helen Cooper argues that Geoffrey’s use of legends “provided the kind of quasi-historical material that allowed for constant reinvention in alternative, more overtly fictionalized forms” (23–24). Later redactors changed or added details to make the material more interesting, more clearly understandable, or more pertinent to the audience.

Verse romance and prose historiography were often conflated: “both recounted the past; .

. . ‘history’ was considered not as some independently verifiable record of the events that actually occurred, but as an account of past events that was authoritative, based on previous accounts” (Barefield 1). As a result, for example, Arthurian material commonly found its way into chronicles (Matheson, King Arthur 260). One example of this phenomenon is that the Royal text of the Chronicle includes both Arthurian material and

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a reference to Eweyn (Urien/Yvain) not found in any of the other versions (Kennedy

2623, O’Farrell-Tate 10).21

This combination of historical and legendary or romance material in the Short

Metrical Chronicle has often prompted modern critics to write dismissively of the work:

“It contains much historical material, but this is often inaccurate, and therefore not of obvious value to historians, while its literary value has been seen to lie only in the amount of legendary material it contains for which we have no other source” (O’Farrell-

Tate 11–12).22 For this reason, O’Farrell-Tate says that scholars should consider the

Chronicle on its own terms, rather than as a poor example of either history or romance

(13). The text found in the Auchinleck manuscript has been singled out as the most

romance-like of the surviving versions. At 2,370 lines, this text is twice the length of any

of the others. Of the added material, the longest episode is a 350-line prologue telling the

story of Albina and her sisters, which Turville-Petre argues is “a story equipped with the

paraphernalia of romance, knights in the saddle, a steward, a faithful daughter, and a

royal palace, told in the characteristic language of romance” (111). Constance Brittain

Bouchard asserts that, “Of course, these twelfth-century [romance] authors had no

intention of giving an accurate picture of the past. . . . They knew perfectly well that the

swords, armor, and social conventions in the stories were products of their own time”

(105). The version of the Chronicle found in the Auchinleck does, however, serve a

purpose: to put the manuscript’s many romances and heroes in chronological perspective,

determining “how the romances are to be understood, not just as entertainments but as

sources of historical knowledge” (Turville-Petre 112). Perhaps, too, the Auchinleck

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redactor felt it was necessary to romanticize the Chronicle in order to make it more similar to the numerous romances for which the manuscript is renowned. The other versions of the Short Metrical Chronicle are much more similar to that found in Royal: they are succinct, telling the story briefly and clearly, concentrating on the succession of facts rather than on the many descriptive details of the Auchinleck.

History tended to be written in prose, while romance was usually written in verse.

The Prose Brut was consciously written as prose to distance it from “the rhetorical distortions of verse and its mendacious associations with romance” (MacColl 292). The

Short Metrical Chronicle was written in verse, which strengthened its associations with romance and, consequently, has led modern critics to view it as a less substantial work than the great Prose Brut. It was not, however, the only, nor the last English metrical chronicle. When one considers Thomas Bek of Castelford’s Chronicle of England

(written about 1327) at 39,674 lines and Robert Mannyng of Brunne’s The Story of

England (completed in 1338) at 25,025 lines (Kennedy 2624), one gains a new appreciation for the Short Metrical Chronicle’s 1,000+ lines.

The Short Metrical Chronicle should be esteemed on its own merits. It is neither wholly history nor completely romance, but a combination of both, meant to both educate and entertain (O’Farrell-Tate 35). It is a pleasant work, a good after-dinner entertainment with a bit of real history and many brief accounts of legendary and miraculous events to keep it interesting. It is short enough to be memorized and can be recited at one sitting.

Considered in these terms, the Short Metrical Chronicle is a successful example of the medieval Brut chronicle.

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Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness

If we are to accept Zettl’s analysis of the relationships of the texts, Royal (R) is the only surviving text that is directly related to the lost original (O). In her edition of R,

O’Farrell-Tate compares the available texts to that found in Royal, with the exception of

G, although Zettl published a full edition of the Anglo-Norman prose text G along with his edition of B. Here, I will include G in my comparison of texts to that of R because even though it is in a different language and form than the other texts, the translation is strikingly similar to some of the English versions. Also, I will consider the text of BPH

M199, which was unreported at the time of O’Farrell-Tate’s edition. At this time, the texts of D, F, and the fragment C have not been published. O’Farrell-Tate uses an unpublished edition of F that was edited in a thesis (19). In Zettl’s edition of B, the author published passages from the other texts that are at odds with those found in B

(cxxxv).23 The text found in Royal 12.C.XII is, as we have seen, the earliest of the

surviving texts of the Short Metrical Chronicle, this version having been written in 1312 or later and copied about 1316, that is, very shortly after the Ludlow scribe copied the

earliest works in Harley 273 (1314 to 1315), including the Purgatoire s. Patrice. In addition, the Chronicle is the item that bears the scribe’s earliest handwriting within the

Royal manuscript (Revard, “Scribe” 58). Apart from a group of macaronic satirical verses and a charm inserted later, the Chronicle is the only item in English found in the manuscript.

Because of the close relationship between R and the lost original text, where R differs from all or many of the other texts (all these are based on the missing x text, which

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is in turn based on O), it is rarely possible to distinguish which details are found in O and which were changed by the remanieur of Royal. A number of permutations are possible concerning historical detail where R and the other texts are at odds; the main ones are as follows. First, O contains historically correct detail, R retains the received information, and the redactor of the missing x changes the text so that these other versions are all incorrect. Second, the reverse could be true: O is incorrect, R retains the information, and x changes it correctly. Third, O is correct, R changes the text, and x retains the original correct text. Fourth, O is incorrect, R changes the text, and x retains the original incorrect text. Finally, it is possible that in any of these, a redactor changes an incorrect reading to another, also incorrect. O’Farrell-Tate lists reasons that could account for variations among texts, including “differences of knowledge or of interest in a particular topic, the use of different source material, even considerations of space, as well as scribal error or correction of faulty source material. Additionally, some material may have been imperfectly remembered or heard” (29). Zettl concluded that the redactor of R had a good grounding in historical literature: “R is familiar with material which ultimately may go back to Geoffrey of Monmouth, to the Historia Anglorum of Henry of Huntington and to the Gesta Regum of William of Malmesbury” (cxxxiii). These he could have used to correct his received text. O’Farrell-Tate notes that the lengths of reigns tend to be more accurate in R than in the other versions (29). This is the case, for example, for Edmund

(Athelson’s brother), Edwin, Harold Godwinson, Henry I, Henry II, Richard, John, and

Henry III (Zettl lxxx, lxxxii, xci, xciii–xcviii).

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The treatment of miracles and marvels—especially of their inclusion or omission—often varies between R and the other texts. According to R, King Lokeryn made two marvels: “Vrokynghole” (Wookey Hole caves in Somerset) and a chapel of

“Seint Susanne” that floats twenty feet above the ground (126–36, O’Farrell-Tate 135).

These marvels appear in none of the other versions. The only actual miracle to be recounted in R is that of King Edgar which inspires the healing of a madman, a blind man, and a cripple (742–73). A, B, and D do not give specifics, but say simply that a number of people are healed (O’Farrell-Tate 26), while G omits all mention of the exhumation and the miracles. Other versions, however, include three accounts of miracles that do not appear in R. During the reign of the first historical king, Egbryth

(Ecgbehrt) in R, Fremund and Kenelm are not mentioned at all in R (412–19). G names them and says merely that they are killed in battle. A, B, and D, however, say that after they have been buried for forty years, Kenelm’s head speaks (O’Farrell-Tate 24). Shortly after the reign of Edgar, Edmound Irnenside (Edmund Ironside) is king; R says he dies because of his steward Edrich’s treachery, but gives no specifics about his mode of death or his burial (824–25). Texts A and B say that he is shot with many arrows, decapitated, and buried first at Christchurch and later at Buri (Bury), where the severed head speaks

(B: Zettl 33:763–80).24 Finally, R merely states that the archbishop St. Thomas is

martyred in the time of Henry II (976–77), while A, B, D, and F say that several miracles happen in relation to the saint (O’Farrell-Tate 28). The text found in G at this point is very close to R.

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The relative lack of miracles and marvels in R is, I contend, not due to the scribe’s omission of such details, but rather to his addition of them to an original text entirely bare of miracles. O’Farrell-Tate suggests that “the scribe/redactor of [the Chronicle] was unwilling to describe historically inaccurate accounts of miraculous events of the more recent past, although he did so for events set in the dim past.” She also admits that these details may have been added later by others (30). I am suspicious of the notion that the redactor hesitated to include recent miracles simply because he considered them to be improbable. After all, he was very willing to write of giants in the time of Brut and of an airborne chapel in the reign of King Lokeryn. Also, what real difference is there between the healings inspired by Edgar and those inspired by St. Thomas?25 I contend that the

details missing from R were added by a later scribe, or perhaps several scribes in

sequence. As they copied, they saw likely places to insert interesting tidbits of

information, so they did so. As for the marvels of King Lokeryn and the miracles

wrought by Edgar, I argue that these were added by the Ludlow scribe. I do not think

that any of the redactors would eliminate these accounts, interesting as they are, had they

found them in their base text. Instead, I think it more probable that the author of O

included no marvels or miracles at all, instead concentrating on the succession of kings,

and that those that appear in the texts were added later by various redactors. Since these

parts of Lokeryn’s and Edgar’s stories only appear in R, and since according to Zettl no

other surviving text is based on R, the Ludlow scribe must have been responsible for their

inclusion.

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In some cases, obviously the Ludlow scribe altered his text in order to make it more clear to his readers (Zettl lxxxviii). In most cases, these changes were matters of detail: years of reign, places of burial, and the like. R and A both contain the length of

Knout’s reign, for instance. Although the original version could have contained this information, Zettl argued for the probability that it was added by the redactor of R [and presumably also by a later, unrelated redactor, since R and A are only distantly related]

(lxxxviii). Similarly, R refers to “William þe rede kyng” with no mention of his relationship to William I (the Conqueror, r. 1066–1087) (921). The other versions incorrectly state that William Rufus is the eldest son of William I (he was actually the third of four). Zettl could not tell whether the original was wrong and the R scribe corrected the text, or whether x added the incorrect information (xciii). Again, although the information could be original, Zettl argued that the unique mention of the prophet

Elijah in R (101–07) derives from the redactor of this text (li). He does not offer any explanation, but I suspect the redactor added the passage in order to keep the pre-

Christian biblical perspective in the mind of the reader.26

The account of Belyns and Brenne’s building of the four great roads across

England contains several alterations. In R, the two men build the roads “Þourh þe grace

of Godes sonde” [Through the grace of God’s favor] (230). The other versions say they

build the roads “þoru strengþe of here hond” (O’Farrell-Tate 22). The R version again

emphasizes the importance of Christian work, while the others have a more secular

outlook. The second road they build, called Fosse, “Geth from Cornwaille into Scosse /

A laund in Scotland of gret pris / In al þat lond feirore þer nys” (236–38). The last two

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lines, according to Zettl, “gives what is apparently a kind of explanation to Scosse” added by R alone (lviii). Related to this, “Offendich þe furþe wol be” (240). O’Farrell-Tate notes that for this fourth road, B has “Feddisdiche,” D has “Fodesdic,” F has “Fosse

Diche,” and A has “Fossedike” (22). G, although not included in this list, similarly has

“Fodesdik.” “All versions except R,” the critic continues, “have an incorrect second reference to Fosse as the fourth road. R’s reference to Offa’s Dyke shows a knowledge of western England, the area in which the scribe probably lived and worked” (22).

Possibly the R redactor was responsible for correcting the relationship of Edmund to Athelson: his brother, rather than his son (Zettl lxxxx). R is the only text to use the epithet “Richard Queor de Lyoun” (982, O’Farrell-Tate 28). The G text, interestingly, completely omits Richard’s name (Zettl 105: 507–13). During Athelston’s reign, R says merely that “Gui of Warewyke liuede þo” (582–83), while versions in the w-group add that he fought Colbron. Although his hypothesis cannot be proven, Zettl claimed that “R preserves the original and that w (or x) was responsible for the new passage, adding details” (lxxviii–lxxix). Some changes were no doubt due to scribal error. The R-text’s explanation of the five kings of England and the bishoprics and archbishoprics associated with each correctly refers to the bishop of Wells who lived in Bath (365–66), while the other texts refer to the bishop of Bath who lived in Wells (O’Farrell-Tate 24). We have seen how the scribe has made changes in the text to clarify information, to retain the

Christian and biblical perspective, and to correct errors he found in his base text. He was concerned for his audience’s spiritual well-being and sought to improve their understanding of the Chronicle.

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Some of the longer accounts of legendary kings are of interest for their variants.

The description of King Bladud’s building of the hot baths is the most “scientific” part of the Chronicle with its list of the chemicals used in the process (171–209). The description in R is shorter than that of the other versions; Zettl argued that R is the altered version, the others representing the original, because, he writes, “R 178–80 has obviously been shortened”: “Al forsoþe þus hit was, / Feole þinges þer beþ ynne, / Craftiliche ymad wiþ gynne” [Truly thus it was / Many things were put therein / It was cleverly done with skill]. He argues that “[t]he scribe was apparently not particularly interested in the chemical ingredients” (liii, note 1). He asserts that the essential story derives from an obscure source and argues that “The detailed description of the origin of the baths probably originated with some ‘scientifically’-minded scribe to whom the references to inextinguishable, subterranean fires heating water as found in other chronicles offered an opportunity for showing his knowledge by adding some ‘scientific’ explanation” (liv).

Interestingly, fragments C and BPH M199 both include this passage in particular, so the details appear to have interested at least a small number of readers several centuries apart.

Zettl’s argument for R shortening the text is unconvincing because although the story of

Bladud’s reign is somewhat shorter in R than in B, 45 lines (167–212) as opposed to 63

(Zettl 6–9:125–88), the part Zettl pointed to in particular, the description of the ingredients and the actual making of the hot baths, varies by only two lines, 21 in R (177–

98) as opposed to 23 in B (Zettl 7–8:161–84). I find it more plausible that later redactors added more detail than that R abridged the text.27

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The account of King Arthur, too, in R is rather different than the one Zettl considered to be original, that found in F. He argues that the lengthy passage in R, stretching from line 261 to 306, contains too many minor details to be included in the original “very condensed historical survey, in spite of the important position Arthur occupies in almost all other chronicles” (lxii). These details might be minor when viewed as part of the greater history of England, but Arthur was and continues even today to be one of the handful of well-known historical or legendary kings. People were and are interested in these details. Also, Zettl did not have any qualms about accepting the amount of chemical detail in the Bladud account, so why should the details of Arthur’s reign be different? R is the only text to mention 1) Arthur’s companion Eweyn

(Urien/Yvain); 2) the fact that Arthur overcame Luces (Lucius) in battle; 3) the fact that

Arthur would have taken Rome but for Moddred’s (Mordred’s) taking of Geneure

(Guenevere); and 4) that Arthur returned from Rome, vanquished Moddred, and lived ten more years. This last point is of great interest to Arthurian scholars because Arthur is traditionally considered to have died in combat with Moddred, each one killing the other.

O’Farrell-Tate says that R is the only text that says Arthur lived ten more years (22), but she is incorrect: the account found in F interestingly omits Moddred, but says that after returning from Rome Arthur lived another ten years (Zettl 70: 260–63). The scribe apparently had an interest in Arthur, perhaps gleaning this information from other reading.

After Arthur, the next scribal tangle deals with Fortiger (Vortigern). Here, R’s version of this transitional passage is correct:

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In þilke time Seint Albon

For Godes loue þolede martirdome.

Kyng Fortiger wyþ schome & schonde

Wes driuen out of Engelonde . . . . (327–30)

That found in versions A, B, D, and F is the result of a scribal error: copying “Fourti зer” instead of “Fortiger” (O’Farrell-Tate 23). Text B, for example, has the following:

Jn þat tyme Seint Albon

For Godes loue suffred martirdome.

& fourti зer with schame & schonde

Was idryuen out of Engelonde . . . . (Zettl 12: 271–74)

The result, obviously, is nonsensical. In the tale that follows in R, Fortiger is driven from

England by Hengist and Hengist’s daughter Rowenne wherein the signal for the treachery is the word “Wassail” (329–40). The other versions, lacking Fortiger, instead have a nameless king who is killed at the hands of the Maiden Inge and her men, Inge using the word “Wassail” to signal the time to murder the king and his court at table (Zettl lxviii).

Zettl writes that “[t]here can be no doubt the Inge-story represents an attempt at explaining the origin of the name of England and that Inge herself combines the figures of Hengist and his daughter Rowenna” (lxix–lxx). Of particular interest is that Fortiger is driven out in the first version, while the unnamed king is actually killed in the others.

The R version seems to be the better: first, the lines quoted above make better sense than the corresponding lines in the other versions, and second, it makes little sense to have an unnamed king of England in the Chronicle.

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Another example of the R scribe being more historically accurate than the others is found in the already-confusing account of the historical Henry II and his son Henry. In fact, Henry II crowned his son, both reigned for a time, and then the son died and the father reigned alone until his death. R includes the correct historical information that the mother of Henry II is “Mahaud þe emperis” (Maud the empress) (952–53), while the others omit this detail (O’Farrell-Tate 27).28 Zettl suspected that the original version

stated that Henry the son succeeded Henry the father. The R scribe then added a lengthy

expansion, explaining the actual succession in some detail, very clearly, in lines 956–75,

while the other versions, Zettl declared, stayed with the original (xciv). A, however,

states that “Harry” was succeeded by his brother Henry (Carroll and Tuve 2030–31). In

R, it is obvious that St. Thomas the archbishop is martyred during the reign of the father

(976–77), while the others, because of their confusion over the succession, suggest that this happened during the reign of the son.

The Ludlow scribe’s accounts of four controversial Anglo-Norman kings—

William I, John, Henry III, and Edward I—indicate his Anglo-Norman leanings and his support of kingship. In the Royal manuscript, the scribe interrupts his text with one large heading: “WILLAM BASTARD DE NORMAUNDIE” (903b). The text continues:

Þo com wiþ gret cheualerie

Willam Bastard of Normaundie,

Ant Engelond al he won

Ant hueld hit ase ys kynedom.

King Harald he ouercome

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Ant lette him to deþe don. (904–09)

Later, the Ludlow scribe writes that William founded “Þe Abbeye of Bataille” (915).

These things taken together—the large heading (obviously the addition of the scribe), possibly “wiþ gret cheualerie,” and the founding of an abbey—show a strong affinity for the Conqueror. The only line that is out of place is 909, “Ant lette him to deþe don.”

The reason for this becomes clear as the other versions are discussed. “A, B, D, and F unambiguously lay the blame for Harald’s death on William [as does G], where R’s account . . . is unclear” (O’Farrell-Tate 27). Version A, for example, says, “William bastard of normondye. / Him [Harald] slou & þat was vilanie” (Carroll and Tuve 1974–

75). The other versions are similar. No version apart from R mentions the founding of the abbey. Zettl argued that the original version was closer to that found in the other texts, and that “Ant lette him to deþe don” is an artifact that the redactor of R neglected to change when he altered the rest of the passage (xci). The redactor’s pro-Norman sentiments are in sharp contradistinction to those of the later redactors.

The second controversial king is John. R states only that England was under an interdict for not accepting the wise archbishop Steuene of Longedon (Stephen Langton) during John’s time (989–97). F is virtually the same (O’Farrell-Tate 28), as is G. The other versions, however, are full of scathing criticism of John’s famous cruelties and an account of his death by poison administered by a monk. The B scribe, for instance, wishes, “In helle ich hope [John] haþ his mede” and “Hym hadde leuere to ben in helle”

(Zettl 41: 953, 965). O’Farrell-Tate argues that these issues “were still politically sensitive” so the R redactor omitted them (33). I am skeptical of the “politically

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sensitive” notion because the Auchinleck manuscript, one of those containing a strongly worded account, was not copied very much later than R. Zettl asserted that this passage was added to the Chronicle by y, which of course would not have affected R, F, or G

(xcvii). I agree with Zettl; the redactor simply copied the neutral account given in the original version. He may have considered changing it, but decided against it for any number of reasons. Perhaps he was unsure how to rewrite it in a way that would be to his taste. Since he presumably copied the Chronicle fairly early in his career (ca. 1316), he could have decided to support the status quo for the sake of his current and future career, as he did so enthusiastically when writing of William I. Ten or twenty years later, however, when he redacted the Anglo-Norman romance Fouke le Fitz Waryn, the opinion of John as expressed in that work is very much in the vein of these other scribes of the

Chronicle (Revard, “Scribe” 60–61). Perhaps he had had a change of heart in regard to

John, or people in his locale had grown to greatly dislike that king, or he had become secure in his career and no longer felt the need to downplay John’s atrocities. Of course, we do not know for certain whether the scribe or his source was responsible for the criticism of John in the romance. Whatever the reason, the John of the scribe’s Chronicle is a very different king from the one described in his Fouke le Fitz Waryn.

Henry III’s treatment of “Sire Simound de Mountford” (Simon de Montfort,

1208–1265) next comes under the strongly opinionated quills of the redactors. R objectively says that Sir Simon lost his life through his support of the “purueance of

Oxneford” [provisions of Oxford, to curb the king’s actions and set up an elected parliament] (1000–07). Texts A, B, F, and G essentially agree with this account, but omit

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the mention of the provisions. A, B, and F all say that “wickede red” [wicked advice] led to Simon’s death (O’Farrell-Tate 28). Zettl declared that F is probably closest to the original version (xcviii). The R scribe could have supplied the information about the provisions because he felt it was needed to clarify the account, as he did in the case of

Henry II and his son Henry, or he could have done so because of his own professional interest as a legal scribe. The death of Simon de Montfort continued to interest the scribe so much that in Harley 2253 he copied two poems honoring the man, ca. 1340–42

(Revard, “Scribe 62; Scattergood 182–85).

Finally, the very last, brief entry in the Chronicle concerns the death of “Sire

Pieres of Gauaston” (Piers Gaveston), the favorite of Edward II who was beheaded by the king’s barons in 1312 (1024–37). This account appears only in this version, and it constitutes the very brief continuation from the original version’s presumed ending date of 1307. Zettl declared that the account “appears to be very impartial, and it contains nothing that might suggest that the author followed any particular authority” (xcix), while

E. J. Hathaway, P. T. Ricketts, C. A. Robson, and A. D. Wilshire declare that “here the opinion of the dissident barons is likely to be the compiler’s [the Ludlow scribe’s] own view” (42, note 48). O’Rourke argues for a stronger repugnance: “it is reasonable to suggest that the scribe was disaffected by royal policy and particularly Edward’s adherence to favourites such as Piers Gaveston. The unique ending of the Short Metrical

Chronicle . . . which castigates Gaveston as ‘traitour’ and ‘louerd suyke’ [wicked lord] would certainly indicate that this is the case” (“Imagining” 52). I agree with the opinion of Hathaway et al. and O’Rourke because the redactor seems careful to give the facts of

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the case very concisely, but his word choice clearly indicates that he is on the side of the barons.

We cannot always distinguish what has been added or omitted by the Ludlow scribe because the text’s original version is lost. However, a number of conclusions can be drawn. In verse, particularly, it is easier for a scribe simply to copy his received text than it is for him to compose new lines to change what has been written by others. For this reason, I argue that in most cases changes are not undertaken lightly, but instead

(where they are not the result of scribal error) tend to be the result of a conscious decision. The remanieur of R makes a large number of these conscious decisions, rendering his version unique. He corrects a number of small details, such as years of reign. He adds interesting peripheral information, like Lokeryn’s marvels, the miracles associated with Edgar, and information about Arthur that is found in no other version.

His version has distinctly Anglo-Norman leanings, uniquely viewing both William the

Conqueror and King John favorably. Although the Chronicle is strongly in favor of the monarchy, when the monarch is wrong or is led astray by others, the text supports the right of the people to revolt, as when the barons execute Gaveston as a traitor. Finally and perhaps more important to the larger issue of the study of history, the scribe seems to consider the future audience of his Chronicle. Whereas the other redactors are sometimes content to give quick, incomplete sketches of situations, leaving the reader to wonder what he is missing, the R remanieur carefully considers his text from the objective viewpoint of an outsider. In a number of cases, he alone adds pertinent historical detail, succinctly and clearly, so that a reader or listener unfamiliar with the story will

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understand the events and their significance. He not only corrects the succession of

Henry II and his son, but also briefly explains the bizarre historical facts of the case. He alone explains that Simon de Montfort is executed because of his support of the provisions of Oxford. He also gives the details concerning Piers Gaveston’s execution.

As a result, the Ludlow scribe’s version is the most complete, pedagogical, and satisfying one of the Short Metrical Chronicle.

Bibliography of Versions of This Text

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles

Carroll, Marion Crane, and Rosemond Tuve, eds. “Two MSS of the Middle English

Anonymous Riming Chronicle.” PMLA 46 (1931): 115–54.

Grund, Peter. “A Previously Unrecorded Fragment of the Middle English Short Metrical

Chronicle in Bibliotheca Philosophica Hermetica M199.” English Studies: A

Journal of English Language and Literature 87 (2006): 277–93.

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Library MS Royal 12 C. XII. Middle English Texts 32. Heidelberg: Winter,

2002.

Pearsall, Derek, and Ian C. Cunningham, eds. The Auchinleck Manuscript: National

Library of Scotland Advocates MS 19 2 1. London: Scolar P, 1977.

Ritson, Joseph. Ancient Engelish Metrical Romanceës. London: Bulmer & Co., 1802. 3

vols.

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---. Ancient English Metrical Romances. 1802. Ed. Edmund Goldsmid. Rev. ed.

Edinburgh: Goldsmid, 1885. 3 vols.

Zettl, Ewald, ed. An Anonymous Short English Metrical Chronicle. Early English Text

Society os 196. 1935. New York: Kraus Reprint, 1971.

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Barefield, Laura D. Gender and History in Medieval English Romance and Chronicle.

New York: Peter Lang, 2003.

Drukker, Tamar. “King, Crusader, Knight: The Composite Arthur of the Middle English

Prose Brut.” Arthurian Literature 20 (2003): 171–90.

Eckhardt, Caroline D. “The Presence of Rome in the Middle English Chronicles of the

Fourteenth Century.” JEGP: Journal of English and Germanic Philology 90

(1991): 187–207.

Fletcher, Robert Huntington. The Arthurian Material in the Chronicles. Burt Franklin

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UP, 1984. 209–48.

---. King Arthur and the Medieval English Chronicles. Ed. Valerie M. Lagorio and

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Meyer, Paul. “De quelques chroniques anglo-normandes qui ont porté le nom de Brut.”

Bulletin de la société des anciens textes français 4 (1878): 104–45.

---. “Les Manuscrits français de Cambridge.” Romania 15 (1886): 236–357.

O’Rourke, Jason. “Imagining Book Production in Fourteenth-Century Herefordshire:

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Notes

1 Historically, Ecgberht led Wessex “to become the dominant power of the ninth century”

in England (Usilton 8).

2 Names in parentheses are added where necessary to clarify the textual names, giving either the more common name or epithet.

3 Alfred, “one of the immortals of English history and an able warrior, administrator, and

patron of culture,” is also believed to have provided the impetus for the Anglo-Saxon

Chronicle (Usilton 9).

4 Edgar the Peaceful was highly praised for his ability to maintain peace, as well as for

his support of Dunstan, archbishop of Canterbury, “in his attempt to reform English

monasticism” (Usilton 10).

5 Aethelred was an ineffectual ruler who maintained the peace by paying tribute money to

the Danes. Despite this, eventually the Danes set out to conquer England (Usilton 10–

11).

6 After the death of Aethelred, Edmund became king. After courageously fighting the

Danes, the latter finally proposed that the issue be decided in single combat. Cnut countered with the suggestion, accepted by Edmund, that they divide England between them. This happened, and one month later, Edmund died (Guizot 70–71).

7 The English offered the crown to Cnut after the death of Edmund Ironside. Cnut

“followed the laws and customs of the English people, and protected and endowed the

Church” (Usilton 11).

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8 Henry III, notable for having built Westminster Abbey, was “pious, a man of high

morals, and a patron of the arts,” but was an ineffectual king. Because of this, members

of the nobility “presented their grievances in a famous memorandum called the

Provisions of Oxford” in which, among other items, they demanded to share in the

governance of the country (53–54).

9 The Imagining History Project was initially funded by Britain’s Arts and Humanities

Research Council through early 2006, and in January 2007, received another grant for a

new research project unrelated to the Brut.

10 Edward I “the most gifted monarch to occupy the English throne in a century,”

subdued Wales by 1283, but failed to subdue Scotland. He was admired for his work to

improve the administration and laws of England (Usilton 72–73). Edward II was

“neither a warrior nor a man of business,” and “[o]ftentimes indolent and indecisive.” He

sent his queen, Isabella, on a diplomatic mission to France, where she took Roger

Mortimer as her lover. They returned to England with an army, upon which Edward

abdicated, was imprisoned, and murdered (Usilton 74).

11 Scholars have used many other names for the Short Metrical Chronicle, including

Chronicle of England, Anonymous Riming Chronicle, Short English Metrical Chronicle,

Anonymous Short English Metrical Chronicle, Anonymous Metrical English Chronicle, and Anonymous Short Chronicle (O’Farrell-Tate 14).

12 Personal communication with Lister M. Matheson, July 8, 2007.

13 Hengist (5th c.?) was a Saxon. Along with his brother Horsa, he supposedly founded

Kent (Blair 56).

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14 References to lines in the R edition of the Short Metrical Chronicle are from the edition

by Una O’Farrell-Tate.

15 Alfred’s son Edward the Elder, at the time of his death, was “recognized as king of all

England south of the Trent,” while Edward’s son Aethelstan, “a pious benefactor of the

Church and a king with an international reputation” was perhaps “the greatest warrior-

king since the days of Offa” (Usilton 9).

16 Hugh is possibly Hugues Capet (r. 987–996), although this is somewhat after the reign

of Aethelstan (924–939).

17 Bouchard continues by explaining that even after primogeniture became the norm, “it

was not an inflexible rule that the eldest son inherited nearly everything and his brothers

little or nothing” (69).

18 For a detailed examination of how this works in relation to Rome, see Marie Tanner’s

The Last Descendant of Aeneas, wherein the author traces “the uninterrupted continuity linking the first emperor of Rome to his sixteenth-century heirs through the Trojan ancestry” (2).

19 In fact, the next two kings, Edmund and Eadred, were Aethelstan’s brothers (Usilton

10).

20 Eadwig’s reign was “politically insignificant” (Usilton 10).

21 Another example is that when Wace translated Geoffrey’s Historia Regum Brittaniae into Anglo-Norman, he added the Round Table and its knights (Cooper 24).

22 Zettl writes “As an historical account it presents an example of what distortion History

can suffer at the hands of careless writers” (xccciii).

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23 Full editions of texts D and F would be helpful.

24 References to lines in the B and G texts are from An Anonymous Short English

Metrical Chronicle by Zettl. Since this book contains editions of both the B and G texts

(the latter in numbered lines of prose), references will be given in the form 33:763–80, where 33 is the page number and 763–80 are the line numbers.

25 It is possible that the more recent events were omitted because they lacked sufficient

“authority” as discussed above. (This possibility was brought to my attention by Don-

John Dugas.)

26 See Structure and Argument, above.

27 Similarly, the Ludlow scribe’s version of the Purgatoire s. Patrice in Harley 273

contains scientific and technical information not found in earlier versions of the text: a

detailed description of the working of wheels used for torture, and lists naming specific

metals and gems.

28 Revard suspects that one of the Ludlow scribe’s patrons might have been the son of Sir

William Ludlow and Maud de Hodnet, heiress to several of the Fitz Waryns’ manors.

This son, born about 1301, could have been an appropriate recipient of the scribe’s later

redaction of the romance Fouke le Fitz Waryn (“Scribe and Provenance” 77). If the

scribe had a connection with the Ludlow family previous to this, the addition of Henry

II’s mother Maud to the Chronicle could have been meant to acknowledge Maud de

Hodnet as well as the Empress Maud.

CHAPTER V

FOUKE LE FITZ WARYN

Fouke le Fitz Waryn is one of the most highly regarded of the Anglo-Norman

prose romances. It was copied by the Ludlow scribe of Harley 2253, and was quite likely

created by him from an Anglo-Norman metrical source. Containing a rich mixture of

historical fact and marvelous adventures, the story concerns the historical Fouke III (d.

1258?), who became an outlaw for a time during the reign of King John (r. 1199–1216).

Central to the story is the legal issue concerning John’s responsibility to his vassals; when

he breaks this feudal contract, Fouke, in turn, breaks with him. The copyist, as we know,

was for many years a legal scribe, so this romance might have attracted him, both for its

legal ramifications and for its local setting in Ludlow, Shropshire. The tale has aspects of

both Christian and ancestral romance, but it is, in the main, a legalistic romance of the

outlaw type. The historical Fouke III is suspected by some scholars, in fact, to have been the original Robin Hood. The romance shows, with occasional humor and plenty of action, that one man on the side of right can, in the end, obtain justice, and that no man, not even the king, is above the law.

Synopsis

The romance of Fouke le Fitz Waryn survives in only one manuscript (British

Library MS Royal 12.C.XII) and is a combination of history and marvelous adventures.

172 173

The first part of the story concerns the fictionalized history of the Fitz Waryn family

dating back to the time of the Conquest. Payn Peverel, a knight in the service of William

the Conqueror, defeats a demon who possesses the body of the giant Geomagog. The

demon prophesies that one of Payn Peverel’s descendants, revealed later to be Fouke le

Fitz Waryn, will undergo many trials and finally emerge victorious. William, delighted

with Payn Peverel’s exploit, gives him “la Blaunche Launde,” later the site of the city of

Blauncheville (Whittington). Upon the death of Payn Peverel, his nephew William

inherits the land and the city. He in turn decides to give Blauncheville as part of the

dowry of his youngest niece, Melette, who will marry the winner of a tournament.

Guaryn de Meez (Waryn of Metz, d. ca. 1146) wins the tournament and marries Melette.

The couple’s eldest child, a son named Fouke (later Fouke le Brun, a combination of the historical Fouke I [d. 1171] and Fouke II [d. 1198]),1 is raised by Joce de Dynan.2

Fouke, son of Guaryn, soon proves himself a brave and capable warrior as well as

a loyal ally. At the age of eighteen, Fouke saves Joce from almost certain death in combat, taking prisoner both Walter de Lacy and Ernalt de Lyls, who are held captive in the castle at Dynan. In gratitude, Joce gives him his younger daughter, Hawyse, in marriage and in the course of time Fouke le Brun will inherit Dynan, later called Ludlow.

Before this can happen, however, the imprisoned Ernalt falls in love with Marioun de la

Bruere, a chamberwoman of the household, promising marriage upon his release. She facilitates the escape of both him and Walter de Lacy. When the household departs for a period of time, leaving only a small garrison, Marioun sends to Ernalt, who takes advantage of the situation to take Dynan. He arrives at night, climbs a ladder he has

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fabricated to measurements she has taken, dines with Marioun, then joins her in bed.

Ernalt’s men secretly climb the ladder and take over the castle, putting all the garrison

and many of the townspeople to the sword. Marioun awakes, is horrified at what has

happened, runs Ernalt through with his own sword, then, in shame, leaps to her death.

The loss of Dynan is the first of the two great disasters to befall the Fitz Waryns. Some

time later, Joce de Dynan and Fouke le Brun again fight against Walter de Lacy, joined at

this time by Yervard Droyndoun, prince of Wales. Joce is taken prisoner, Fouke is

gravely wounded while attempting a rescue, and Fouke’s lands, including Blauncheville, are confiscated by his enemies. Fouke rides to Henry II, asking for justice; he is healed while the King orders Joce to be set free. This happens, but Joce dies soon afterward.

Although Fouke le Brun continues for many years to serve his king, his son soon eclipses him within the context of the romance.

While Fouke le Brun is at Henry’s court, the eldest child of Fouke and Hawyse, a son, also named Fouke, is born; it is he (the historical Fouke III) who is the title character of the romance and it is this period that sets the stage for the period of outlawry that follows. After several years of fighting, Yervard and Henry are reconciled, but Yervard refuses to relinquish Blauncheville. Instead, he gives it to Rogier de Powys. This is the second great loss to befall the Fitz Waryns. Meanwhile, Fouke le Brun and Hawyse have four more sons. The five brothers are raised at court along with the four sons of Henry, two of whom are to become future kings: Henry (who predeceases his father), Richard,

John, and Geoffrey. The Fitz Waryn boys are destined to serve the Angevin brothers.

The young Fouke is favored by King Henry and all his sons except for John. Because of

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a childish spat while playing chess with Fouke, John develops a deep hatred of the eldest

of the Fitz Waryn siblings. When Richard eventually becomes king, he knights the four

Fitz Waryn brothers, who then cross the sea in search of fame. When Fouke le Brun dies,

Richard recalls the brothers to England and transfers Fouke’s lands to the eldest son,

Fouke le Fitz Waryn. King Richard has such high regard for young Fouke that, when he prepares to travel to the Holy Land, he appoints the young knight to guard the marches in

his absence. When Richard later dies, the new King John treacherously confirms

Blauncheville, rightfully belonging to the Fitz Waryns, as belonging to Morys de Powys,

the son of Rogier. Fouke, angry at this blatantly unjust action, renounces his fealty to

John and departs. John promptly seizes Fouke’s lands and takes vengeance on his

retainers. Fouke, along with his brothers and two cousins, turns outlaw, while his mother

Hawyse dies of grief.

During Fouke’s period of outlawry, the knight lives for a time with his

companions in the forests of England. King John sends knights to kill or capture him, but

they never succeed. Fouke and his men, conversely, set out to harry the King. They rob

merchants transporting the King’s goods and attack the King’s men. There follow a

number of colorful escapades that highlight Fouke’s cleverness and his use of disguises.

At one point, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Hubert le Botiler, asks Fouke to marry his

widowed sister-in-law, the beautiful heiress Mahaud de Caus, to keep her from the lustful

clutches of King John. Fouke agrees, afterwards leaving his wife in Canterbury while he

returns to the forest. Fouke discovers a scoundrel, Pieres de Brubyle, wreaking havoc on

the populace under Fouke’s name. Single-handedly he forces Pieres to tie up and behead

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his own henchmen; then Fouke dispatches their leader himself. Fouke and his men kill

Morys de Powys and take Blauncheville. Fouke’s wife Mahaud eventually has four

children including a son named Fouke (the historical Fouke IV [d. 1264], whose only role in the story is his birth).

When things become too dangerous for them in England, the outlaws take to the sea and to foreign shores for a time, encountering a number of marvels. During his time in France, Fouke, thinly disguised under the name Amys del Boys, becomes a favorite of

King Philip, who guesses his true identity. The outlaws eventually leave France, hiring the colorful mariner Mador del Mont de Russie to build them a boat and serve as master of it. The outlaws rescue the daughter of the King of Orkney and her ladies from a band of thieves, killing the thieves and returning the ladies to their homeland. Fouke and one of his men then rescue the daughter of the Duke of Cartage (probably Cartagena in Spain

[Burgess, Two 127]) from a dragon, returning her to her father.

Returning to England, Fouke, disguised as a charcoal burner, lures King John into a trap while the King is hunting deer, and forces him to agree to return Fouke’s property.

The King, however, does not keep his promise, but instead sends knights to capture

Fouke and his men. In the skirmishes that follow, Fouke’s brother William is gravely wounded, taken to an abbey for healing, discovered by John, and taken prisoner. Fouke himself is seriously wounded.

The outlaws take to the sea again, and more marvels follow. On a strange shore, all leave the boat except for the injured, sleeping Fouke. In the course of a storm, the boat is torn from its moorings and floats away; Fouke eventually arrives alone in

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Barbarie, where he is taken in by the king of that country, Messobryns. Here Fouke takes the pseudonym Maryn le Perdu de Fraunce. Messobryns is at war with Ydoyne of

Cartage, the same woman previously saved from the dragon. Her father has died and she refuses Messobryns’s offer of marriage. Fouke agrees to serve as the champion of

Barbarie only if the king converts to Christianity; this he promises to do. The two well- matched knights fight ferociously until the disguised Fouke discovers that the opposing

champion is his own brother, Phelip le Rous. The five brothers are reunited, Messobryns

and his household converts to Christianity, and the king marries Ydoyne.

Back in England again, Fouke and his companions rescue William, depart for eighteen months, then finally return to stay. The outlaws capture King John, taking him

to their boat and forcing the King to rescind Fouke’s outlaw status and return his property. This time the King keeps his promises, so Fouke, his men, and the King are reconciled. After one last fight with a giant, this time in Ireland, Fouke retires his weapons. In the final, short part of the romance, he builds an abbey and settles down with his wife, who dies a short time later. He marries again, all the while praying that

God will forgive his killing of many knights. One night, God strikes Fouke blind, telling him that his penance has been accepted. Fouke piously spends the last seven years of his life, blind, hosting travelers on the nearby highway. The romance closes with a prophecy attributed to Merlin telling how the wolf (Fouke) will defeat the leopard (King John.).

Transmission History

The Anglo-Norman prose romance of Fouke le Fitz Waryn exists today in only one manuscript, British Library MS Royal 12.C.XII, although at one time there existed at

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least two other versions of the story, summarized by sixteenth-century antiquarian John

Leland. The earliest of these was an Anglo-Norman verse version of the romance in

octosyllabic couplets. Presumably the extant Anglo-Norman prose version came next.

An incomplete English version in what may be alliterative verse, perhaps contemporaneous with the extant version, also existed. Although at least three versions of the romance existed, the sparse evidence available indicates that they were essentially very similar.

An unknown author most likely composed the missing original romance shortly after 1250. According to Thomas Wright, the work was written sometime after the death

of the historical Fouke III (the title character of the romance) in 1256 and before the

death of Fouke IV (his son) in 1264 since the latter’s death is not mentioned in the tale

(History x).3 Louis Brandin disagreed with Wright’s reasoning, correctly noting that the

central events in the romance concern the outlawry of Fouke III, so in essence, the death

of Fouke IV is irrelevant (“Nouvelles” 33). He added that, although the historical Fouke

III led an exciting life after his period of outlawry, the unknown author chose not to

include these events in the romance. Among other actions, Fouke joined the revolt of the

English barons in the events leading up to the signing of Magna Carta in 1215, he was

excommunicated by Pope Innocent III and the King confiscated part of his land in 1216,

he regained the confidence of the monarch (then Henry III) after King John’s death in

1217, and that same year Henry returned his property to him (“Nouvelles” 24).4 The

editors of the Anglo-Norman Text Society (ANTS) edition of the Anglo-Norman prose

romance, E. J. Hathaway, P. T. Ricketts, C. A. Robson, and A. D. Wilshire, add that

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Fouke continued intermittently to rebel against the Crown, and that “in 1245, as a

venerable elder, he acted as spokesman for the barons, to warn the papal nuncio to leave

England” (xxix).5 Despite the lack of historical evidence in the romance, Brandin argued,

due to his analysis of the language of the Anglo-Norman verse fragments that he

reconstituted from the prose, that the verse version dates to the early second half of the

thirteenth century (Fouke vi–vii) or about 1260 (“Nouvelles” 37).6

The prose romance evidently originated in Shropshire, in the vicinity of Ludlow

(the “Dynan” of the romance), the locale in which the scribe who later redacted the extant

copy routinely operated.7 Due to peculiarities of its language, Brandin determined that it

originated in England, more specifically on the English/Welsh border in the southwest

Midlands. This he attributes partly to the spelling of proper nouns and partly to the fact

that the many Welsh names are spelled according to their pronunciation, rather than their

Welsh spelling (“Nouvelles” 40–43). In addition, the romance places emphasis on a

number of very precise geographic locations, especially those in northern Shropshire

(Burgess, Two 126). Glyn S. Burgess notes that “from the very outset the town of

Ludlow (Dynan) has an important role to play in the text and it is likely that the author of the verse romance came either from Ludlow or lived there for some time. . . . The author clearly possessed a profound knowledge of the castle and the town of Ludlow” (Two

129). The editors of the ANTS edition assert that “the verse romance appears to have

been the work of a Ludlow poet, who may have been chaplain or tutor in a great

household” (Hathaway et al. ix).8 If true, this might in fact make the author strikingly similar in background to the scribe of the surviving version. M. Dominica Legge,

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however, suggests that based on events recounted at the end of the romance, the author

may have served as “a monk at the New Abbey, a Benedictine house founded by Fulk II”

(Anglo-Norman 173), according to the romance founded by Fouke le Fitz Waryn, and the burial place of him and his two wives.

The Anglo-Norman verse version of the romance—that which appears to have been written first—was evidently written in octosyllabic couplets (Brandin, “Nouvelles”

43).9 A close examination of the prose version shows this to be true. From the prose, one can distinguish the underlying rhyme pattern in many places throughout the text

(Brandin, Fouke v). Wright, who began the work of reconstructing much of the verse version, noted that:

here and there, where the writer who turned it from verse into prose

appears to have been seized by a fit of idleness, he has actually preserved

the rhymes of the original. In two instances, where he has given

prophecies of Merlin, the words of the original poem remain so

uncorrupted, that I have thought it right to print both passages in verse.

But in several other places the original verse betrays itself in the midst of

the paraphrase. (History vi)10

In his edition of the prose romance, Brandin gave a number of examples where one could

distinguish the underlying rhyme pattern. One brief example will serve to illustrate this

point. His prose text and translation read: “William, quant ce oy, surryst, e dist, ‘Bele

nece, bien avez dit; e je vus ayderay à mon poer de tel seignur purchacer. E si vus dorray

Blanche-Tour e quanque apent ou tut l’onur; quar femme que ad terre en fée serra plus

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desirrée’” [William, when he heard this, smiled, and said, “Fair niece, you have said well; and I will aid you to my power to obtain such a lord. And I will give you White-Tower and its appurtenances, with all the honour; for woman who has land in fee will be so much the more sought after”] (Fouke 17–18). His verse reconstruction reads:

William, quant ce oy, surrit,

Bele nece, bien avez dit;

E de mon poer vus ayderay

De tel seignur purchacer.

E si vus dorray Blanche-Tour,

E quanque apent ou tut l’onour;

Quar femme que ad terre en fée

Serra d’assez plus desirrée. (Fouke vii)

Hathaway et al. take note of another artifact of the lost verse version of the romance: “the archaic nominative form of the old literary language . . . is sporadically and often unintelligently preserved in the prose version” (xxi).11

Over the years a number of scholars have attempted to date the extant Anglo-

Norman prose version of Fouke le Fitz Waryn largely by examining the scribal hand in the sole surviving manuscript. Wright, in his 1855 edition of the romance, declared it is

“in a hand of the reign of Edward II [1307–27], and I think there can be little doubt that it was written before the year 1320” (History v). Brandin took another tack, considering the most likely audience for the romance at the time. He suggested that the prose version may have been written for Fouke V, who died in 1314. He thus dated the work to the

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early fourteenth century, or shortly after 1314 at the latest (Fouke iv).12 The authors of

the ANTS edition date the prose version to the 1320s or 1330s (Hathaway et al. xxxv).13

These editors assert, in addition, that the Ludlow scribe very likely composed the prose version, as well as copying it into the manuscript (Hathaway et al. xl).14 Other scholars likewise have considered the occupation of the remanieur. Timothy Jones argues that the prose redaction was “apparently transposed from the verse romance into a miscellany by the same Hereford scribe who copied the Harley Lyrics between 1325 and 1340” (233–

34). Legge, on the contrary, posits that the remanieur, like her presumed original author,

may have served as a monk at the New Abbey (Anglo-Norman 173).15

The “break” in the copying of the prose text has been a subject of much

conjecture over the years. The hand changes about three-quarters of the way through the

romance at an unlikely place: in the midst of the first time when King John promises to

grant Fouke his demands and to rescind his outlaw status (Hathaway et al. 50, between

lines 8 and 9). In his 1930 edition of the prose version of Fouke le Fitz Waryn, Brandin

argued that two fairly competent scribes copied the prose work, the first ending at the

word covenant (f. 53r., 28, 4th word) (Fouke iii). In a 1929 article, he went so far as to

note perceived differences in the use of the supposed scribes’ language (“Nouvelles” 38).

The ANTS editors opt for one scribe only, however, explaining the differences in

language by the possibility that a period of time passed between the copying of the first

and the second parts of the romance (Hathaway et al. xlvi–xlvii). Revard, whose painstaking paleographic work to create a chronology of the scribe’s handwriting has proven invaluable, dates the first part of the romance to circa 1325 to 1327 and the rest—

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the work of the same scribe—to circa 1333 to 1335 (“Scribe” 60–61). There could, then,

have been as much as a ten-year gap between the remaniement of the first part of the

romance and that of the second part.16 This means several things: first, that no one was in a hurry to obtain the prose version of the romance. This could indicate that the scribe wrote for his own use rather than for any patron as a commission. Second, resumption after a long period indicates that someone, presumably the scribe, had a continued interest in the romance, and did not simply lose interest and stop work on it. Finally, the break shows that the scribe had access to the source manuscript for a long period of time.

He may have owned the manuscript himself; it may have been part of the library of, perhaps, a patron or a household in which he was employed; or he may have been on good enough terms with some more distant owner who would have allowed him to borrow the manuscript when he needed it. In any case, for some period of time, the scribe had access to a French verse version, now lost, from which he made the extant

French prose remaniement.

To understand the rest of the transmission history, one must first become familiar with the work of John Leland, the scholar who summarized the two now-vanished versions of the romance. Leland, who lived about 1503 to 1552, served as a royal chaplain, and beginning in 1530 he was named to increasingly important religious positions, collecting benefices along the way (Carley and Petitmengin 196). In 1533,

King Henry VIII commissioned him to search the libraries of monasteries and colleges ostensibly in order to find documents for two purposes: 1) to support the king’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon; and 2) to support a limited role of papal jurisdiction in

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England (195–97). The 1534 Act of Supremacy “released England from papal control on all matters not relating to divine law” (198). With the Dissolution Act of 1536 and the

1539 Act of Dissolution, the now-closed monasteries became fertile hunting grounds for valuable manuscripts, and Leland’s focus changed. The antiquarian sought to have some of these books published “to promote the greater glory of king and country” (198–99).

According to James P. Carley and Pierre Petitmengin, “Leland requisitioned manuscripts as well as examining them, but the precise relationship between his booklists and his acquisitions is a difficult one to determine. His technique . . . varied from house to house”: sometimes he borrowed; sometimes he took books that he destined for the royal library (203); and sometimes he simply took manuscripts for his own private collection

(207).17 D. J. Sheerin notes Leland’s passion for “British Antiquity” (174). The antiquarian read books and annotated them for later use in the volumes he intended to write about English history (Carley and Petitmengin 206–07). Among Leland’s many intended projects, according to T. C. Skeat, were “three books on the royal and noble families of Britain” (505). Unfortunately, as Sheerin delicately puts it, “Leland was free of many of the scruples of modern scholarship” (180). His “lists of MSS are always inadequate and often misleading” (Sheerin 177). At times he “combined readings from different sources, not always signaling where he emended one version from the other”

(Carley and Petitmengin 206). The famous antiquary’s “mind finally gave way about

1547” (Skeat 505) and he died in 1552.

The two missing versions of Fouke le Fitz Waryn are mentioned in Leland’s

Collectanea, which was left incomplete at his death. Leland intended this work as a

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“sourcebook for the Civilis Historia and its subsidiary treatises” (Skeat 505). Thomas

Hearne edited and published Leland’s notes in 1715 as Joannis Lelandi Antiquarii De

Rebus Britannicis Collectanea. Leland began his summary of Fouke le Fitz Waryn by using an incomplete version of the romance in English verse and ended by using a version in French verse (Leland 230–37). The beginning of his summary bears the heading “Thinges excerptid owte of an old Englisch boke yn Ryme of the Gestes of

Guarine, and his Sunnes” (230), clearly indicating a version of the romance in English verse. In a marginal note in this section, the antiquarian notes, “Fulco with the Hauke on

Fiste” (Leland 232), suggesting, as the ANTS editors assert, that the English version contained illustrations (Hathaway et al. 75). Later, Leland paused in his summary to note, “Here lakkid a Quayre or ii. in the olde Englisch Booke of the nobile Actes of the

Guarines. And these thinges that folow I translatid owte of an olde French Historie yn

Rime of the Actes of the Guarines onto the Death of Fulco the 2” (236). Approximately

80% of Leland’s summary is taken from the English verse version; the remaining 20% from the French verse version. Although Leland claimed to have “excerptid” from the

English romance and to have “translatid” from the French, he actually both translated and excerpted from the latter. We are fortunate that Leland told us that he used two versions of the romance, and in what form he found the romances, since, as we have already seen, the antiquarian often combined readings from several sources without mentioning that fact (Carley and Petitmengin 206).

The relationships among the extant version of the romance and the two lost versions used by Leland are not at all clear. A certain amount of conjecture is obviously

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necessary since all we know of the lost versions is what Leland told us through his filtered and clearly biased summaries. For example, Leland largely omitted the fantastic episodes of the Anglo-Norman prose version of the story. This omission does not, however, mean that neither of his versions contained these episodes. On the contrary, we know of Leland’s interest in history and of his intention to write several volumes concerning the history of families in Britain. The title he gave his summary emphasizes not the deeds of Fouke le Fitz Waryn, but those of his entire family: “the Gestes of

Guarine, and his Sunnes” (Leland 230). In his summary, he omitted the fantastic parts as being irrelevant to the history of the Fitz Waryns.

The English metrical version of the romance was quite likely written in alliterative verse, perhaps at about the same time as the Anglo-Norman prose version. As evidence of the alliterative precursor, Wright cited Leland, adding line breaks:

At a bent by a bourne,

At a bridge ende; (History xi)18

And “by a mere transposition of words, an alliterative couplet equally perfect”:

Owt of Lacy and Ludlow

Of march lordes the greatest. (History xi)

Wright argued that the English verse romance dates to the early fourteenth century— roughly the same time as the Anglo-Norman prose version (History xi–xii).19 Brandin, in his comparison of Leland’s summary and Fouke le Fitz Waryn, noted seven types of facts present in the English version and wholly absent in the extant version, and twenty-two divergences in the readings (“Nouvelles” 34–37). He concludes from these that the two

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versions came from two different sources (37). These absences and divergent readings are not substantive, however; in many cases, for example, the difference is one of the timing of an event in the romance. Although the versions were written at roughly the same time, scholars cannot determine which version came first (Brandin, “Nouvelles”

37). Imagining that the Ludlow scribe could also be responsible for the English verse version of the romance is tempting—he was fluent in French, English, and Latin—but the differences in the story are too many and too varied for this to be true. He certainly made changes in his French prose remaniement, but he would not then have made so many more changes in a second, roughly contemporaneous, translation of the same story. We also do not know whether the scribe could compose English alliterative verse.20 In addition, Leland suggested that the English version contained illustrations connected in subject matter with the text. None of the Ludlow scribe’s three known manuscripts contain such illustrations in works copied by the scribe.21

Most critics declare that the three versions of the romance are very similar. The editors of the ANTS edition state that both Leland’s summary of the English verse beginning of the romance and his summary and translation of the French verse concluding section “agree closely and sometimes verbally, even in Leland’s abridged paraphrase, with the extant FFW” (Hathaway et al. xxi–xxii). Wright noted that the extant Anglo-Norman prose version and summary of the lost Anglo-Norman poem agree so closely that he was certain that this same metrical version was the precursor of the prose (viii). The ANTS editors find this resemblance so close as to “suggest that

[Leland] had access to the same copy of the couplet romance as the prose remanieur two

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centuries earlier” (Hathaway et al. xxiii, xxvi).22 Brandin, the lone dissenting voice, writing in 1929, argued that the French verse and prose versions, although similar in many respects, derive from different sources, and that the English verse and French prose also do not come from a common source (“Nouvelles” 37). He declared that the French prose comes from a different French metrical version (“Nouvelles” 32).

Although the evidence as to the existence of three versions of the romance over the years is sparse, there is an additional citation of the tale in the early fourteenth century. Peter of Langtoft, in his French verse chronicle of 1306, writes of Robert Bruce

(“Robyn”):

Du boyvere dam Waryn luy rey Robyn ad bu,

Ke citez et viles perdist par l’escu

Après en la forest, forsenez et nu,

Se pesceit ove la beste de cel herbe cru.

Son livre le temoyne luyquels de luy est lu. (372)

[King Robin has drunk of the drink of dan Warin,

Who lost cities and towns by the shield,

Afterwards in the forest, mad and naked,

He fed with the cattle on the raw grass.

His book bears witness of it, which is read concerning him.]23

Wright, who edited Langtoft’s Chronicle, noted that “The reference [in the final line to livre], of course, is to the history of Fulk fitz Warine, the celebrated outlaw under king

John” (Peter of Langtoft 372, note 10). Robert Mannyng of Brunne, the poet best known

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for Handlyng Synne, translated Langtoft’s Chronicle, completing it in 1338 (Crosby 17).

He translated and paraphrased this passage as follows:

And wele I understode that the kyng Robyn

Has dronken of that blode the drink of dan Waryn.

Dan Waryn he les tounes that he held,

With wrong he mad a res and misberyng of scheld.

Sithen into the foreste he зede naked and wode,

Als a wilde beste ete of the gres that stode;

Thus of dan Waryn in his boke men rede;

God зif the kyng Robyn that alle hys kynde so spede! (Wright xii)

Robert Bruce is here called “Robyn,” suggesting a tantalizing link to Fouke le Fitz

Waryn’s possible identification, to be discussed later, with the legendary outlaw Robin

Hood. These references in Langtoft and Mannyng show that some form of the story of

Fouke III was current in the early fourteenth century.

Today we have only the Anglo-Norman prose version of Fouke le Fitz Waryn,

although at one time Leland apparently had access to two different versions: one in

Anglo-Norman verse, possibly the original version of the story; and one in English verse,

composed at approximately the same time as the extant version. All we know of the

Anglo-Norman verse version comes from Leland’s translation and summary, as well as

from a close examination of the rhyme underlying the Anglo-Norman prose version of

the romance. The little that we know of the English verse version comes entirely from

Leland.

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Structure and Argument

Fouke le Fitz Waryn is a three-part romance divided into chronological periods. It

is built upon an underlying double structure with numerous parallels and reversals that

occur throughout the romance, during the course of which the protagonist seeks the return

of the lands of which he has been unjustly deprived. This combination tripartite-double

structure supports the movement of the plot: one notes the “out and back” movement as

Fouke leaves his native region, travels several times to foreign shores and into the realm

of fantasy, and finally returns to claim his inheritance.

The three-part division of the romance is the obvious one. In the first part,

comprising about one-third of the story, the reader is given the background of the Fitz

Waryn family dating back to the time of the Conquest and including the loss of

Whittington and Dynan (Ludlow). The second and longest part of the romance concerns

the outlawry of Fouke le Fitz Waryn, occurring historically about 1200 to 1203

(Hathaway et al. ix). This includes the heart of the story: the many realistic and fantastic

adventures of Fouke and his companions, both in England and abroad, as he tries to

regain his lost land from King John. Having recovered his inheritance and reconciled

with the King, all that remains in the very brief third part (historically comprising about

fifty years) is for Fouke to retire, regret his killing of many men, gain the forgiveness of

God, and die peacefully after devoting his last years to the service of mankind and, by extension, to God.

Fouke le Fitz Waryn, a man of honor, is forced to rebel against the actions of an unjust monarch, King John. John dislikes Fouke and his brothers because of a grudge he

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bears the eldest of the Fitz Waryn siblings that dates back to their childhood, when John

is punished by his father the king after hitting Fouke with a chessboard, then complains

when Fouke knocks him senseless. When John in turn becomes king, he uses his new

power to confirm Fouke’s enemies in their possession of some of the Fitz Waryns’

property. In a dramatic scene, Fouke confronts the King, telling him that he has been his

man, but since John has now failed to live up to his part of the bargain, Fouke renounces

his fealty:

Sire roy, vous estes mon lige seignour, e a vous su je lïé par fealté tant

come je su en vostre service, e tan come je tienke terres de vous; e vous

me dussez meyntenir en resoun, e vous me faylez de resoun e commun[e]

ley, e unqe ne fust bon rey qe deneya a ces franke tenauntz ley en sa court;

pur quoi je vous renke vos homages. (Hathaway et al. 24)

[Sir king, you are my liege lord, and to you was I bound by fealty, as long

as I was in your service, and as long as I held lands of you; and you ought

to maintain me in right, and you fail me in right and common law; and

never was he a good king who denied his frank tenants law in his courts;

wherefore I return you your homages.]24

King John confiscates the rest of Fouke’s lands and sends men to hunt him down. Fouke

thus becomes an outlaw. Ingrid Benecke argues that Fouke’s “actions are perfectly legitimate, that is, in accordance with a vassal’s right of insurrection against an unjust feudal lord, as laid down in feudal laws and contracts and in Magna Carta” (157). He is an “excellent vassal whose example is worth following for any knight in feudal society.

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Disinherited, wrongfully outlawed, and pursued by a corrupt monarch, the good outlaw manages nevertheless to reestablish moral order in feudal society through his victory over

an unjust lord and king” (159). Even though Fouke owes him fealty, when King John

acts unjustly, the knight, bound by his principles, has no choice but to revolt. Although

this event (both in the romance and in life) predates the signing of Magna Carta by about

fifteen years, the growing independent spirit of the English barons is clearly shown in the person of Fouke le Fitz Waryn.25 He eventually succeeds, as the later barons did, in

forcing the hand of King John, thus making him acknowledge his duty and the limitations

on his power under the law.

Just as Fouke le Fitz Waryn manages to bring a corrupt government back into

balance to serve his own interests, the double structure of the romance reflects the

protagonist’s loss of balance (via the loss of his property and his place in society) and the regaining of that balance as the story progresses. Balance is shown at both the beginning and the end of the romance by means of two prophecies concerning the deeds of the Fitz

Waryns and especially of Fouke’s victory over King John. Although the double prophecies are written as prose in the manuscript, the underlying rhyme is obvious, and they are traditionally printed as verse in modern editions. The first of these prophecies is given by Geomagog, the dead giant whose body is possessed by a demon and who is definitively vanquished by Payn Peverel, Fouke’s ancestor (Hathaway et al. 6).26 The second is said to be a prophecy of Merlin (60–61). Delving further, one notes that both prophecies are ultimately of demonic origin: Geomagog’s body is animated by and possesses the intelligence of a spirit or demon, while Merlin, according to Geoffrey of

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Monmouth, is the offspring of a mortal woman and an incubus (167–68); Merlin’s powers, then, like Geomagog’s, are derived from a demonic being. Geomagog, however, is an evil demon, while Merlin is generally considered to be benign. This double pattern of bad (influence, action, etc.) followed by good is often repeated in the romance. There are, for example, two fights with giants: in the very first adventure, Payn Peverel,

Fouke’s ancestor, defeats Geomagog (5–6). The king, William Bastard, retains the giant’s mace as a trophy (7). In the story’s very last adventure, that of Fouke le Fitz

Waryn after his reconciliation with King John and just before his retirement, Fouke takes on and defeats a giant in Ireland at the behest of Rondulf of Cestre (58–59). This time, however, the hero himself keeps the giant’s weapon, an axe that he takes to Blauncheville

(58). In both adventures, the heroes fight on behalf of a third party. The heroes win both battles, but in the first, the king keeps the trophy, and by extension, part of the glory of the deed, while in the second, Fouke himself retains the trophy and all the glory of his accomplishment. Fouke’s possession of the trophy in the second case demonstrates how not just he but the Fitz Waryn family as a whole has grown in power and prestige over the years. He is now, at the end of the romance, his own man; he fights his giant not as a vassal, but as a free man as a favor to a friend.

Another example of the romance’s double structure involves two chess games, each leading to violence. In the first, we observe the origin of King John’s grudge against Fouke. The boy Prince John is playing chess when he becomes angry and hits

Fouke over the head with the board. Fouke kicks him so hard that John loses consciousness. John later runs to his father the king, hoping for revenge. Instead, the

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king tells him that he must have deserved this treatment and calls John’s master to beat

him as punishment for complaining (22–23). John is too young and, as he discovers, too

powerless to take his revenge immediately. He saves his anger for the much later time

when he becomes king and Fouke becomes his pawn. In the second chess-playing

episode, in the midst of their fantastic adventures, several of Fouke’s companions are

challenged to games of chess by seven shepherds, who arrive in unkempt clothing and immediately and inexplicably change into sumptuous attire. The shepherds defeat all of

Fouke’s men. Fouke then is given the choice of playing chess or of wrestling, under a veiled threat, but he refuses both. Instead, he draws his sword and quickly strikes the heads off three of his opponents before his companions join in, dispatching the others.

This may seem unduly harsh to the reader until Fouke enters another room and discovers that the youths and their mother have taken a maiden and her ladies captive (43–45). The women are rescued; the evil-doers punished. In the first case, young Fouke knocks the

villainous child John unconscious, foreshadowing adult victories over John and perhaps

the seven evil shepherds. The second case, both balancing and recalling the first, results

in much greater good: the rescue of a maiden and her ladies from imprisonment and the

killing of the villains who held them captive.

There are, in addition, two interesting episodes of reversal involving deceitful

men climbing in and out of castle windows. In the first, Dynan is treacherously taken

after careful planning when Ernalt de Lyls, and later his men, climb up a ladder and into a

window, putting the garrison to the sword and burning much of the town (16–18). In the

second episode, Johan de Rampaigne, one of Fouke’s men, gains admittance to King

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John’s household disguised as a minstrel. He drugs the inhabitants, killing none, rescues

Audulf de Bracy, and escapes out the castle window by means of towels and sheets tied

into an improvised rope (37–38). Again, we see the double structure: evil followed by

good. The evil-doer climbs in a window to kill the inhabitants of the castle, while the

good man climbs out with a rescued compatriot, slaying none.

The use of pseudonyms provides us with a clever double structure within another double structure. Pieres de Brubyle, a noble ruffian, steals Fouke’s name for an evil purpose, gathering a band of noble scoundrels and performing wicked deeds under the

name of Fouke le Fitz Waryn. The genuine Fouke hears of it, discovers the man and his

band, has Pieres bind and behead his own men, and then he himself beheads their leader

(30–32). Roger Pensom remarks on the parallel between the episodes with King John

and Pieres de Brubyle: Pieres robs under Fouke’s name, “an act of robbery, in a march,

with Fouke as the victim—his name has been stolen”; John “deprives Fouke of the due

inheritance of his father’s fiefs (an act of robbery, in a march, in which Fouke is the

victim!).” Fouke regains his name, perhaps suggesting he will later regain his lands

(Pensom 55). Fouke turns the situation around, saving both his reputation and Pieres’s

innocent victims. In this case, there are not one, but two opposite cases to provide

balance. There are perhaps two because in these situations, the second and third events

are rather more simply benign than positively good. On two occasions Fouke takes a

pseudonym, both in cases where he unexpectedly arrives at a court asking for the monarch’s hospitality: first in the court of King Philip of France, where he calls himself

“Amys del Boys” (41), and second in that of Messobryn of Barbarie, where he calls

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himself “Maryn le Perdu de Fraunce” (53–54). His intention in the court of Philip, as

becomes obvious, is to protect the King from the absolute knowledge that he is harboring

the famous outlaw. The intention in Barbarie might be to protect himself from the

possibility of being ransomed by the pagan inhabitants, had they known he was

desperately wanted by King John.

During his period of outlawry (the chronological second, or middle, part of the

romance), Fouke’s adventures take place both in England and on foreign shores. The

adventures in England are often colorful, but they are such that a reasonable person could

imagine them actually happening: there are exciting chases and disguises, for example. It

is here, however, that the normal situation of justice is reversed in another example of the

double structure: the court and the “civilized” world of King John are corrupt, while the

wilderness—the woods that Fouke and his men use as their base of operations and call

their home—is actually the seat of justice. During this time, Fouke and his men twice

capture King John, who says that he will return Fouke’s lands. The first time, John, with

evil intention, perjures himself, breaking his promise (49–50). The second time, John

keeps his word and Fouke is once again integrated into society, yielding the good

outcome to counterbalance the prior evil on the part of the king (57–58). While living in

the forest, Fouke and his companions maintain their own system of justice by, for

example, punishing Pieres de Brubyle (the one who stole his identity) and by stealing from King John and from no one else: “Fouke ne nul dé suens, de tot le tens qu’il fust exilee, unqe ne voleit damage fere a nully si noun al roy e ces chevalers” (27) [“Neither

Fulk, nor any of his, during the whole time that he was outlawed, would ever do hurt to

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any one, except to the king and to his knights” (Wright 77–78)].27 When things become

too hot for them in England, or when they need to recuperate from their skirmishes with

John’s soldiers, the band of companions takes to the sea and to foreign shores. In France,

Fouke and his men fight in tournaments and win honor, a common practice of English

knights at the time. Fouke gains renown “e fust amee e honoree de le roy e la roigne e

totes bone gentz. . . . e partot fust preysé, amee e honoree pur sa proesse e sa largesse”

(41) [“and was loved and honoured by the king and the queen and all good people. . . .

and everywhere he was prized, loved, and honoured for his prowess and his liberality”

(Wright 119–20)]. Here we have yet another example of doubling: the French honor

Fouke, while, perversely, he is an outlaw for a time in his native England.

Later in the second part, when Fouke and his men take to sea again and venture to

unknown parts, they enter the realm of the fantastic before again returning to England.

Here, Fouke takes paired bad situations and turns them around, yielding good results.

Fouke and his men rescue the daughter of King Aunflor of Orkanye and her six ladies

from an old woman and her seven shepherd sons on an island completely inhabited by

robbers and thieves (44). Fouke then kills a dragon in “la Graunde Eschanye,” a land of

“serpentz e autres lede bestes” (45) [“serpents and other foul beasts” (Wright 133–34)].

Almost immediately he encounters and defeats a second dragon and rescues a second

maiden, this time the daughter of the Duke of Cartage, who has been held captive by the

dragon for seven years and forced to serve him by washing the blood from his muzzle

(46–48). In the brief third, or final, section of the romance, Fouke himself goes blind for

his final seven years, during which time he willingly serves mankind at the behest of

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God. Although Fouke is constrained for seven years by his blindness, much as the maiden had been constrained physically by the dragon, Fouke regards this as a period of freedom and happiness in the service of others, rather than as a period of forced labor and continual fear, as was the case for the girl.

This double structure of the romance underscores the plot movement. Throughout the tale, doubled episodes are frequent. In most of these, the first episode represents the evil or hopeless side of a situation, whereas the second represents a return to the side of good; for instance, enemies climbing in the window to take Dynan castle, killing many /

Fouke’s companion climbing out a window after liberating another, killing none; and the maiden’s service of seven years to the dragon / Fouke’s service of seven years to God and to mankind. The world itself is often reversed, in a sense, for Fouke: “society” is neither civilized nor just, while he finds justice and normalcy only in the wilderness; he is praised abroad but pursued in his native land. King John attempts to impose his perverse

“justice” on Fouke, but it is John who is finally brought to justice. In the end, after reversing his normal role in life and conquering his own king, Fouke le Fitz Waryn resumes his role as John’s vassal, and the world of the romance is again in equilibrium.

Genre of Romance

Fouke le Fitz Waryn is an eclectic Anglo-Norman romance. It does not fall neatly into any of the traditional romance classifications, but rather combines a number of them into a unified whole. Brandin writes that the consensus of the scholars of his day was that Fouke le Fitz Waryn “is an historical romance containing much romance and little history” (qtd. in Kemp-Welch x). Sidney Painter colorfully called it “a weird

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combination of accurate information, plausible stories that lack confirmation, and

magnificent flights of pure imagination” (Reign 50). There are fantastic elements, but in the main, the action is realistic. The tale contains aspects of love, but not of French courtly love. There are also aspects of Christian romance: several important characters perform deeds as Christians, but this is only incidental to the story. The tale does contain

many of the characteristics of the ancestral or baronial romance, without falling entirely

into that category. The best fit is the legalistic romance and its subsidiary, the outlaw

romance.

During the period of Fouke’s outlawry, the protagonist undertakes several

marvelous digressive adventures in strange lands: slaying dragons, rescuing maidens and

other ladies, and taking vengeance on a family of robber/shepherds on an island of

robbers and thieves. Marijane Osborn suggests that these episodes were added to the

story “to make this romance conform to the exotic and chivalric (princess-rescuing)

adventure story demanded of the genre by the age, and also . . . to give the hero

something to do in an unfilled story-space during a period when Fulk may actually have

been at sea” (286). The historical Fouke did indeed have “a reputation as a sea-captain”

(Painter, Reign 51). Josephus Stevenson located evidence in the Close Rolls of the

Chancery Records indicating that Fouke had “a grant made to him of the rigging and

fittings of an old Norwegian galley” (xxii–xxiii), and Burgess notes that one of Fouke’s

ships was seized in 1202 or 1203 (Two 101), either during or near the time of the

historical Fouke’s period of outlawry. The fantastic episodes may indeed have been

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added to fill in some unknown time in the storyline. These marvelous adventures abroad

do add color to the tale, but they are not by any means central to the plot.

Although the romance contains a number of women, there is nothing that could be

called courtly love. None of the Fitz Waryn family engages in dalliance. Susan Crane

notes that the English heroes of Anglo-Norman romances take marriage and family very

seriously indeed (“Anglo-Norman” 605); they do not make a game of love as do the

heroes of French romances. Fouke, in fact, never appears to fall in love, nor does love

prompt him to perform great deeds. True, he marries Mahaud de Caus, sister-in-law of

the Archbishop of Canterbury, but this is a marriage to “the sort of beautiful heiress who

was highly sought after by knights, whether they were real individuals or the heroes of a

courtly romance” (Burgess, “Women” 83).28 Any thought of courtly love on the part of

the reader is quickly dashed when Fouke returns to his companions in the woods, leaving

his new wife in Canterbury: “Yl ly escharnyerent e rierent e le apelerent hosebaunde, e ly demanderent ou il amerreit la bele dame, lequel al chastel ou a le boys, e s’entresolaserent” (Hathaway et al. 30) [“They made game of him and laughed, and called him husband; and asked him where he should take the fair lady, whether to castle or to wood; and made merry together” (Wright 87)]. Later, after Fouke returns a rescued maiden to her father, the Duke of Cartage, the Duke offers his daughter in marriage to

Fouke: “Fouke ly mercia finement de cuer pur son bel profre, e dit qe volenters prendreit sa file, si sa cristieneté le poeit soffryr, quar femme avoit esposee” (48) [“Fulk thanked him finely and heartily for his fair offer, and said that he would willingly take his daughter, if his Christianity would suffer it; for he had already a married wife” (Wright

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143)]. Each time Fouke might be tempted to love, the romance is deflected instead to humor.

The author also uses love to darker ends in the story, however. When the injured

Fouke, alone in a boat, arrives on the shore of Barbarie and is taken into the care of

Isorie, sister of King Messobryn, he invents a tale wherein he unluckily loved a treacherous maid. The maid loved another, and this other man one day attacked Fouke with a sword and set him adrift in a boat to die (54). The reason for this fabrication is never explained, but it is plausible that Fouke wishes to ward off any possible advances from Isorie and so creates a story in which he suffers because of his love for the maid.

He, presumably, could not possibly love another. (Leland, in fact, writes that Isorie—he calls her Idonie, misreading the manuscript’s letters s and r—loves Fouke [236]).

Finally, there is the case of Marioun de la Bruere. In the most poignant and pathetic episode of the romance, the maiden falls in love with Ernalt de Lyls, one of the enemy, and by his trickery Dynan is lost; then Marioun kills Ernalt and leaps to her death from the castle window (Hathaway et al. 14–17). This is a tragic and touching story of a girl who is so much in love that she is blind to her lover’s treachery. The author clearly suggests that love is often disastrous. As Burgess tartly sums up the cumulative opinion shown by these episodes, “Evidently, love lays an individual open to deception and it puts lives at risk. It is not something to be trusted” (“Women” 81). Although Marioun de la Bruere is sensitively and deftly portrayed, this is very rarely the case in such stories.

Legge remarks, in fact, that the uncourtly treatment of women by the authors of these ancestral romances is characteristic: “all the writers seem to take a curiously detached

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view of girls and women, almost as if they had never met any outside a book” (Anglo-

Norman 175). This is not, then, a romance of love.

Fouke le Fitz Waryn and his predecessors are Christian knights, but religion plays a relatively small role in the story as a whole, so this cannot be called a Christian romance. At the beginning of the tale, we read that many years previously, Corineus defeated the giant Geomagog in a wrestling match. A demon enters into the dead giant’s body and terrorizes the countryside. Fouke’s ancestor Payn Peverel definitively defeats the possessed Geomagog, relying on his faith: “‘Chevaler,’ fet yl, ‘vous m’avez vencu ne mie par force de vous meimes, eynz avez par vertue de la croys qe vous portez’”

(Hathaway et al. 5) [“‘Knight,’ said he, ‘you have conquered me, not by your own strength, but by virtue of the cross which you carry’” (Wright 9).]29 Later, Fouke declares himself a Christian knight when he is asked to fight as the champion of Barbarie against the champion of Cartage: “jamés bataille ne prendrei pur Sarazyn countre cristien pur perdre la vie. Mes, si le roy vueille reneyer sa ley, e devenyr cristien, e estre baptizé, je prendroy la bataille” (Hathaway et al. 54) [“I will never take battle for Saracen against

Christian, though I should lose my life. But if the king will relinquish his faith, and become a Christian, and be baptized, I will take the battle” (Wright 163)]. In the course of the battle, he discovers that the opposite champion is his own brother. The fight ends, all the members of the king’s household are baptized, the king of Barbarie marries the

Duchesse of Cartage, and everyone is content (55–56). This outcome is not viewed, however, as a great victory for Christianity, but rather as a happy ending to a difficult situation. The protagonist does not seek to fight Saracens, and, as we see in this episode,

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he has no particular animosity toward them. Finally, at the very end of the romance,

Fouke turns to religion, repents of his many killings, and God accepts his penance. He

dies a Christian knight (59, 61).

Although the romance contains characteristics of the types of romances discussed

previously, a much stronger case can be made for Fouke le Fitz Waryn as an ancestral

romance. Legge writes that Anglo-Norman romances like this one were “written to lend

prestige to a family which, for one reason or another, could be regarded as parvenu”

(Anglo-Norman 174). She regards Fouke le Fitz Waryn not just as one of these, but as

“the truest of them all” (171). Ancestral romances were written either at the behest of a family, or at least with that family’s cooperation, in the hope of some recompense for the author. One would assume that, if this were so, most of the information given in the romance would be historical, but it is not. Although at least part of the story appears to have come from the family or its documents, a great number of errors exist in the chronology and in the facts of the story (Brandin, “Nouvelles” 23–24).30 Of the many blatant errors in the romance, perhaps the greatest is that Fouke in real life never captured

King John: the king “was in Normandy, instead of Windsor or Westminster, during the greater part of the outlawry, and . . . he was never at that time in Gloucester, as he is here represented” (Ward 1: 504).31 Urban T. Holmes accepts the ancestral romance theory

and tries to explain the errors: “Surely the Fitz Warins must have cooperated. They

probably cared very little for historical accuracy and gloried in a tale that was so lively in the telling.” He adds that such “fictitious biography” was popular in the thirteenth

century when the romance was written (179). W. F. Prideaux agrees: “the record of

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[Fouke’s] doings in England was doubtless based on family tradition, and is as authentic as such contemporary accounts usually are” (53), which is to say, not very true at all.

One of the strongest advocates of Fouke le Fitz Waryn as an ancestral romance was

Wright, who suggested that someone in the family’s service wrote the tale. He declared that the reason for the many historical errors in the romance was that there were several historical Foukes in the family and that the stories of these individuals naturally became confused (xiii–xiv). Painter was one of those who asserted that the author had no connection to the family at all since many of the errors are of “facts that must have been well known to [the most likely patrons, Fouke IV and Fouke V] and to their retainers”

(“Sources” 14). He argued, on the contrary, that the public wanted the story, and that the author responded to this demand, rather than to any instigation on the part of the family

(“Sources” 15).

Although it has characteristics of the ancestral romance, Fouke le Fitz Waryn can best be described as a legalistic romance of the outlaw type. Crane refers to the general category (what I call the legalistic romance) as “Anglo-Norman romances of English heroes”:

These romances are centrally concerned with the workings of the English

feudal and legal systems, and . . . their heroes exemplify in idealized form

the qualities important to the Anglo-Norman barony. Their narratives

typically trace the hero’s protection or recovery of his seigneurial rights;

he struggles primarily for the honor and security of his family, and only

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secondarily, if at all, for the rights of his countrymen. (“Anglo-Norman”

602)

This is a distinctly English type of romance such as tends not to exist on the Continent.32

Since the time of Henry II (1154–1189), feudal power in England no longer depended on

military might, but “depended upon the control and administration of land.” As a result,

“[t]he Anglo-Norman barony was uniquely peaceful . . . and its domesticity was well-

served by the Angevin moves toward legal systematization” (Crane, “Anglo-Norman”

607). It was because of this “smooth-running landed baronial hierarchy” that members of

the nobility were “[ready] to work within bureaucratic structures” (Crane, “Anglo-

Norman” 606–07). When Fouke le Fitz Waryn believes that King John has broken the social contract, he does not gather an army with which to overthrow the king, but instead he withdraws his fealty and departs. Eventually he forces John to accept and to follow the contract, which means that Fouke regains his lands and that the king will henceforth protect his right to them.

The central part of Fouke le Fitz Waryn is an outlaw romance, a form of legalistic

romance. Again, this is characteristically English. Some argue that the French geste des

révoltés is the same type of romance, but, as Crane argues, this is not true: the Anglo-

Norman romances end in the protagonists’ success while “the gestes des révoltés move

toward destruction in an atmosphere of chaos, violence, misfortune, and disillusion”

(“Anglo-Norman” 606). Although there are bad outlaws (for example, the one described in the Song of Trailbaston found in another of the Ludlow scribe’s books, British Library

MS Harley 2253 [Revard, “Outlaw’s Song” 99–105]), tales of good outlaws generally

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enjoy wider popularity. These medieval outlaw tales “emphasize their heroes’ moral integrity in various ways” (Benecke 157). As we have seen, the Fouke of literature is a noble and a moral man. He fights for his rights, rescues maidens, dispatches evil-doers, and dies in bed, forgiven by God for past misdeeds. He does not become an outlaw by choice (as does Pieres de Brubyle in the romance), but because he, as an honorable man, has no other ethical option. He is one of those “crown vassals who comply with their feudal duty by opposing the royal tyrant” (Benecke 158). The real Fouke III was pardoned by King John on November 15, 1203, with “more than forty other men who had been associated with him in his outlawry” (Hathaway et al. xxvii). One may well wonder why King John forgave the historical Fouke. According to Painter, the king may have seen him as a successful fighter with a good sense of strategy and wit for survival: “John may have felt that any one capable of defying the government for three years was too good a man to lose.” He added dryly, “Slightly reformed outlaws made excellent servants” (Reign 52). John’s pardon was apparently a wise choice. From the time of

Fouke’s pardon until about 1210, he and King John appear to have had no contact, but from 1210 to 1215, the knight sometimes accompanied the king on his travels and several times received gifts from him. Fouke III was among the barons who rebelled against

John in 1215, perhaps because he owed the crown a great deal of money. However, he soon made peace with the next king, Henry III, by February 1218, and served him faithfully for the rest of his life, as did his son and grandson (Fouke IV and V), respectively (Meisel 40–42, 52–53).33

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A number of critics have pointed to similarities in the romance of Fouke le Fitz

Waryn to the legends of Robin Hood. Some suspect that Fouke may in fact have been the inspiration for Robin. As evidence, Brandin cites this line from the B-Text of Piers

Plowman: “But I can rymes of Robyn Hood and Randolf Erle of Chester,” noting that

Randolf of Chester plays an important role in Fouke le Fitz Waryn and that both Fouke and Robin rob King John (qtd. in Kemp-Welch xvii; Langland Passus V 396). In fact, the historical Randolf of Chester could not have attempted to capture Fouke in real life because he, like King John, was abroad at the time (Burgess, “I kan” 61). Burgess suggests that Randolf may have been included in the romance simply because he was already famous in other outlaw tales and it seemed appropriate to add him here (“I kan”

62).34 Some critics suggest that Marioun de la Bruyere was the inspiration for Maid

Marian despite the fact that Marioun would have been a contemporary of the outlaw

Fouke’s grandmother (Prideaux 56). Hathaway et al. point out the similarity between the romance and the legends of Robin Hood and other outlaws where “The life of the outlaw is idealized, with the joy of companionship in the struggle against government and society quite overshadowing the real-life hardships” (xxxiii). Thomas E. Kelly gives specific examples of the similarities in the two tales, noting that:

Some of the incidents in Fouke fitz Waryn and A Gest of Robyn Hode are .

. . too close to be accounted for by ‘common tradition’ or coincidence—

the game of truth or consequences by which those who lie are robbed,

while those who tell the truth keep their money; the trick of enticing the

enemy into a forest trap by promising him a long-horned stag; the captured

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king or sheriff swearing an oath not to harm the outlaw and then breaking

it; and the wounded sidekick begging the hero to kill him by cutting off his

head. (111)

Even those who know nothing of the Fitz Waryn family can appreciate the lively outlaw

story. Indeed, after his death Fouke III went on to become “a popular romantic figure”

(Painter, “Sources” 15). Prideaux sums up the popularity of the outlaw romance as follows: “The sturdy common sense . . . which distinguishes the [English] tells them that if society is to be maintained[,] law must be obeyed; but their independent spirit is quick

to feel injustice, and it is almost a logical inference from the law-abiding principles that if

a man does revolt against authority it is because the laws have been strained against him”

(57). This is certainly the case in Fouke le Fitz Waryn.35

Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness

Only one manuscript of the romance concerning the historical Fouke III survives—British Library MS Royal 12.C.XII. The Anglo-Norman metrical version was the first written; the Ludlow scribe created the Anglo-Norman prose adaptation of it; and at about the time of this second version, an English verse translation was made.

Anything that may be said comparing the Royal text to the other two, now missing, texts that Leland used for his sixteenth-century summary of the romance is highly suspect since our knowledge is secondhand at best. Leland was not the most precise or conscientious of researchers; in places he might also have misunderstood the text he translated and/or summarized, or he might have relied on his memory. At one point of his summary, in fact, while translating from the French metrical version concerning

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Fouke II (actually III), he noted in the margin “As I remember the Englisch Historie of

the Fizwarines attributith this to Fulco the firste” (Leland 237). Also, where facts appear

in the extant version but not in Leland’s summary (such as most of the fantastic elements), Leland could have decided to omit these items, no matter how crucial they appear to the plot of the romance. That said, we may note that the extant text is the only one known ever to have existed in Anglo-Norman prose, and is the only one to survive of

at least three versions in two languages.

In terms of content, the two French versions appear to be virtually identical, while

there are a number of differences between the missing English metrical version and the

present text. Brandin made a careful comparison of facts found in these two versions.

He noted seven that are found in the English version but not in the extant text

(“Nouvelles” 34–35). The most significant of these is the mention of several characters,

in particular Garin, a brother of Fouke. The extant version names Fouke as one of five

sons; the English version lists him as one of six (35). Brandin also listed twenty-two

divergences between the texts (35–37), often in the order of events. Notable among these

divergences is the following example: in the extant version, after Marioun de la Bruere

discovers the treachery of Ernalt de Lyls, she kills him, then leaps to her own death; in the English version, upon discovery of the treachery she leaps to her death, and Ernalt afterwards kills many in the town (35). Hathaway et al. point out the intriguing fact that in the romance William Peverel has two nieces, while Leland’s English source gives him two daughters, and in real life he had four sisters (70). After considering the differences between the texts, Brandin concluded: “[Q]uelque obscur qu’ait pu être [le poème en

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anglais], quelque incompétent qu’ait pu être Leland pour en déchiffrer les arcanes, on ne

peut imputer à de simples contresens les différences présentées par [le poème en anglais

et le remaniement anglo-normand en prose]” (37) [However difficult the English poem

may have been, however incompetent Leland might have been at deciphering the obscure

points, one cannot ascribe to simple mistranslation the differences represented by the

English poem and the Anglo-Norman prose reworking].36 The differences between the

lost English version of the romance and the present French prose are such that the broad

outline of the plot remains the same. There is no question that this is the same story, and

as we have seen, most of the critics judge the differences to be relatively minor. Just as

the romance is at odds with many of the historical facts, the English metrical version is

sometimes in disagreement with the extant romance.

We can discern items that seem to have been added by the remanieur (presumably

the Ludlow scribe) who rewrote the Anglo-Norman poem as a prose romance. Hathaway

et al. assert that he very likely “corrected” what he believed to be errors in his source text.

(He, of course, did the same in the Short Metrical Chronicle, a work found in the same

manuscript as Fouke le Fitz Waryn.) The editors suggest, for example, that “the

suppression of an early mention of Alveston, and of Roger and Jonas of Powys, may be

due to the remanieur, who knew that the grant of Alveston and the Welsh vassals of the

English crown belonged to the reign of Henry II” (xxvi). The editors also note that the details concerning the dedication date of the chapel at Ludlow castle show evidence of local knowledge (76; note to page 13, lines 30–31), as does the addition of the words “a

Wormeslow” inserted above the line of text to give a more precise location to the site of a

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battle near Hereford (83; note to page 21, line 36).37 In addition, the scribe left a blank

after the name of the Hereford bishop “Robert de. . . .” “No doubt,” the editors tell us,

“the scribe intended to fill in the correct name after research in the archives” (77; note to page 14, line 27). In an unpublished B. Litt. Thesis, G. Stephenson writes that the remanieur “if he did add or subtract from his source made no major alterations” (qtd. in

Francis 323). Elizabeth A. Francis paraphrases Stephenson’s work, writing that “the long description of Fulk III’s adventures in and around Spain . . . seem to have been inspired by events after 1267, in the life of Fulk VI (ca. 1276–1336), for an analysis of the Royal manuscript suggests that [Fulk VI], or a member of his family, owned the manuscript”

(Francis 323). Stephenson notes similarities in the lives of Fouke III and Fouke VI:

“Both were rebels, both went into exile at the court of a French king called Philip and both seem to have been esteemed by their contemporaries as men of outstanding character” (qtd. in Francis 323). Perhaps the remanieur was influenced in his work by

Fouke VI or by the story of his life. Further inquiry into the life of Fouke VI and the ownership of the manuscript might prove rewarding for an enterprising student of Fouke

le Fitz Waryn.

The spirit and style of the prose remaniement deserve some attention here, since these, in many ways, make this romance such a fascinating piece of work. Brandin, in his introduction to Alice Kemp-Welch’s 1904 translation of the romance, commented wryly,

“The Manuscript is written in rather poor French. All the faults committed by Anglo-

Norman writers are to be found in it” (Kemp-Welch xviii). In the years since Brandin made his memorable remarks we have come to see Anglo-Norman not as mangled

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French, but as a distinct insular dialect of the language. Legge has mixed praise for the

remanieur: “The writer who turned the poem into prose worked clumsily, but the result,

with its traces of rhythm and rhyme-words, has a sparkling attraction of its own. Nobody

could ever use the words ‘dull’ or ‘tedious’ about Fouke FitzWarin” (Anglo-Norman

174). Although the first part of the romance—the background and history of the family—sometimes reads like a chronicle, the remaining two-thirds of the romance moves rapidly and is full of colorful details and action. Francis praises “the spirit and tone of the narrative, the effective dialogue, [and] the ingenious, sometimes elegant, treatment of material” (323).

The story contains deeds of chivalry, but also a good deal of comic relief that sometimes undercuts the high moral tone of the tale. One instance of this is when

Fouke’s companions tease him mercilessly, calling him “hosebaunde” after his marriage to the high-born Mahaud de Caus and asking him whether he will take the lady to the castle or to the forest (Hathaway et al. 30). Some of these episodes, at least, may be the work of the Ludlow scribe since they are absent in Leland’s summary, since the details given are such that they could very easily have been added after the fact as embroidery on the basic story, and since the Ludlow scribe apparently enjoyed humorous literature.38 In one instance not dissimilar from the twelfth-century Aliscans (Guillaume 218) and the much later Don Quixote, the eighteen-year-old Fouke flies to the rescue of Joce de Dynan wearing an old hauberk, carrying a rusty axe, and riding a packhorse. Although his appearance is comical, Fouke proves himself the superior knight in the confrontation that follows (Hathaway et al. 12). Leland described this episode thus: “And he . . . toke his

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Horse and Spere to rescow Joos . . . as one Godarde was aboute to streke of his hede; so that Godarde was slayne of hym, and Gualter Lacy driven away” (232). There is nothing even faintly comical in Leland’s version of the episode. Later, as we have already seen,

Fouke refuses the offer of the hand of the Duke of Cartage’s daughter in marriage because, alas, his Christianity will not allow him to have more than the one wife he already has (Hathaway et al. 48). Leland totally omitted the girl’s rescue and the subsequent meeting with her father. Possibly he chose not to summarize this episode because of his aversion to fantasy and his reluctance to summarize anything not related strictly to the Fitz Waryn family history as he saw it. However, the episode might not have been in his version of the story at all, or it might have appeared in a very different form than that we know today. Finally, during Fouke’s battle as champion fighting in disguise for Barbarie, he makes a serious miscalulation: instead of striking his opponent, he strikes the opponent’s horse, an exceedingly unchivalrous act. The opposing knight, thrown to the ground, is beside himself in his frustration and anger, hardly knowing what to say. Outraged, he splutters: “Maveis payen, maveis Sarazyn de male foy, Dieu de ciel vous maldie! Purquoy avez ocis mon chival?” (Hathaway et al. 55) [“Wicked pagan, wicked Saracen of ill faith, God of heaven curse you! Why have you slain my horse?”

(Wright 165)]. Although Leland mentioned Fouke’s stay in Barbarie, he omitted all reference to this crucial battle (236). This seems incomprehensible. One would think that the battle would certainly qualify as a major event in the history of the Fitz Waryn family, yet Leland omitted these, like some of the other details discussed previously. If not to engage in battle, what is the purpose of Fouke’s sojourn in the pagan country? We

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will probably never know whether the humorous descriptions were added by the scribe or

simply omitted by the antiquarian.

The author-function of the Ludlow scribe in this romance is rather more complex

than it is in the other narratives comprising this study. Here, we have the scribe’s now-

lost exemplar: the original Anglo-Norman verse romance. The original story, about

whose author some scholars have conjectured, appears to have been well-written and

entertaining. The Ludlow scribe took this work and adapted it, rewriting it as a prose

romance while adding and clarifying details of local geography and of history. Although we cannot know for certain how much of the surviving version’s excellence is attributable to the author and how much to the Ludlow scribe, we do know that the scribe here did much more than simply copy the text and make a few changes. His role in relation to this text is much closer to that of author than it is in any of the other four romances of this study.

Fouke le Fitz Waryn is a fascinating, morally uplifting, and often very funny romance. The action is interesting and frequently fast-moving. The geographical details

are generally accurate, although the historical “facts” fall disappointingly short of the

mark. Fouke’s outlaw period is full of narrow escapes, disguises, and good-natured

trickery. There is enough violence and knightly fighting to please those who like violent

romances, and there are marvelous adventures that include battles against dragons and the

rescue of fair damsels from cruel and evil men. The passage of six centuries has not hurt

this romance one whit. Although we live in a different world than did Fouke and his

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companions, human nature is ever the same. The romance of Fouke le Fitz Waryn still has the power to fascinate and to make readers and listeners alike laugh aloud.

Bibliography of Versions of This Text

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles

Brandin, Louis, ed. Fouke Fitz Warin, Roman du XIVe siècle. Paris: Champion, 1930.

Burgess, Glyn S. Two Medieval Outlaws: Eustace the Monk and Fouke Fitz Waryn.

Rochester, NY: D. S. Brewer, 1997.

Hardy, Thomas Duffus. [Fouke le Fitz Waryn; exact title unknown.] Published

privately. London: Bentley, 1833.

Hathaway, E. J., P. T. Ricketts, C. A. Robson, and A. D. Wilshire, eds. Fouke le Fitz

Waryn. Oxford: Blackwell, Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1975.

Kelly, Thomas E. “Fouke fitz Waryn.” Medieval Outlaws: Ten Tales in Modern

English. Ed. Thomas H. Ohlgren. Gloucestershire, Eng.: Sutton, 1998. 106–67.

Kemp-Welch, Alice, trans. The History of Fulk Fitz-Warine Englished by Alice Kemp-

Welch with an Introduction by L. Brandin. London: Moring, 1904.

Michel, Francisque, ed. Histoire de Foulques Fitz Warin, publiée d’après un manuscript

de Musée Britannique. Paris: Silvestre, 1840.

Moland, L., and Charles d’Héricault. Nouvelles françoises en prose du XIVe siècle.

Paris: Jannet, 1858.

Stevenson, Josephus, ed. Radulphi de Coggeshall Chronicon Anglicum, de Expugnatione

Terrae Sanctae Libellus, Thomas Agnellus de Morte et Sepultura Henrici Regis

216

Angliae Junioris, Gesta Fulconis Filii Warini, Excerpta ex Otiis Imperialibus

Gervasii Tileburiensis. Ex Codibus Manuscriptis. Rerum Britannicarum Medii

Aevi Scriptores, or Chronicles and Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland during

the Middle Ages 66. London: Longman, 1875.

Wood, A. C. Fulk Fitz-Warin, Text and a Study of the Language. London: Blades, 1911.

Wright, Thomas. The History of Fulk Fitz Warine, an Outlawed Baron in the Reign of

King John, Edited from a Manuscript Preserved in the British Museum, with an

English Translation and Explanatory and Illustrative Notes. London: Printed for

the Warton Club, 1855.

Secondary Sources

Benecke, Ingrid. Der gute Outlaw: Studien zu einem literarischen Typus im 13. und 14.

Jahrhundert. Studien zur englischen Philologie ns 17. Tűbingen, Ger.:

Niemeyer, 1973.

Brandin, Louis. “Nouvelles recherches sur l’histoire de Fouke Fitz Waryn.” Romania 55

(1929): 17–44.

Burgess, Glyn S. “I kan rymes of Robyn Hood, and Randolf Erl of Chestre.” De sens

rassis. Ed. Keith Busby, Bernard Guidot, and Logan E. Whalen. Amsterdam:

Rodopi; 2005. 51–84.

---. “Women in the Fouke le Fitz Waryn.” Por le soie amisté. Ed. Keith Busby and

Catherine M. Jones. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2000. 75–93.

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Carley, James P., and Pierre Petitmengin. “Pre-Conquest Manuscripts from Malmesbury

Abbey and John Leland’s Letter to Beatus Rhenanus Concerning a Lost Copy of

Tertullian’s Works.” Anglo-Saxon England 33 (2004): 195–223.

Crane, Susan. Insular Romance: Politics, Faith, and Culture in Anglo-Norman and

Middle English Literature. Berkeley: U of California P, 1986.

[Crane], Susan Dannenbaum. “Anglo-Norman Romances of English Heroes: ‘Ancestral

Romance’?” Romance Philology 35 (1982): 601–608.

Crosby, Ruth. “Robert Mannyng of Brunne: A New Biography.” PMLA 57 (1942): 15–

28.

Dean, Ruth J., and Maureen B. M. Boulton. Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to Texts

and Manuscripts. Anglo-Norman Text Society Occasional Publications Series 3.

London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1999.

Francis, Elizabeth A. “The Background to Fulk Fitz Warin.” Studies in Medieval French,

Presented to Alfred Ewart in Honour of His Seventieth Birthday. Ed. Francis.

Oxford: Clarendon, 1961. 322–27.

Holmes, Urban T. “The Adventures of Fouke Fitz Warin.” Medium Ævum Romanicum:

Festschrift fur Hans Rheinfelder. Ed. Heinrich Bihler and Alfred Noyer-

Weidner. Munich: Max Hueber, 1963. 179–85.

Jones, Timothy. “Geoffrey of Monmouth, Fouke le Fitz Waryn, and National

Mythology.” Studies in Philology 91 (1994): 233–49.

Legge, M. Dominica. Anglo-Norman Literature and its Background. Oxford:

Clarendon, 1963.

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Leland, John. Joannis Lelandi Antiquarii De Rebus Britannicis Collectanea. Ed.

Thomas Hearne. 1774. Vol. 1. Farnborough, Eng.: Gregg International

Publishers, 1970.

Loomis, Roger Sherman. Wales and the Arthurian Legend. 1956. Folcroft, PA: Folcroft

P, 1969.

Newstead, Helaine. “The Joie de la cort Episode in Erec and the Horn of Bran.” PMLA

51 (1936): 13–25.

Osborn, Marijane. “The Real Fulk Fitzwarine's Mythical Monster Fights.” Words and

Works: Studies in Medieval English Language and Literature in Honour of Fred

C. Robinson. Ed. Peter S. Baker and Nicholas Howe. Toronto: U of Toronto P,

1998. 271–92.

Painter, Sidney. The Reign of King John. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1949.

---. “The Sources of Fouke Fitz Warin.” Modern Language Notes 50 (1935): 13–15.

Pearcy, Roy J. “‘And Nysus Doughter Song with Fressh Entente’: Tragedy and Romance

in Troilus and Criseyde.” Studies in the Age of Chaucer 24 (2002): 269–97.

Pensom, Roger. “Inside and Outside: Fact and Fiction in Fouke le Fitz Waryn.” Medium

Ævum 63 (1994): 53–60.

Peter of Langtoft. The Chronicle of Pierre de Langtoft, in French Verse, from the

Earliest Period to the Death of King Edward I. Ed. Thomas Wright. Rerum

Britannicarum Medii Aevi Scriptores 47. 1868. Vol. 2. Wiesbaden, Ger. \ Kraus

Reprint, 1964.

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Price, Glanville. “Le Gué Gymele in Fouke Fitz Warin.” Modern Language Review 56

(1961): 220–22.

Prideaux, W. F. “Who Was Robin Hood?” Robin Hood: An Anthology of Scholarship

and Criticism. Ed. Stephen Knight. Cambridge: Brewer, 1999. 51–57.

Renn, Derek A. “Chastel de Dynan: The First Phase of Ludlow.” Castles in Wales and

the Marches. Ed. John R. Kenyon and Richard Avent. Cardiff: U of Wales P,

1987. 55–74.

Revard, Carter. “Scribe and Provenance.” Studies in the Harley Manuscript. Ed.

Susanna Fein. Kalamazoo, MI, 2000. 21–109.

Ward, H. L. D. Catalogue of Romances in the Department of Manuscripts in the British

Museum. Vol. 1. 1883. London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1961.

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Notes

1 Brandin “Nouvelles” 23. The historical Fouke II was called “Le Brun.”

2 Fouke I and Fouke II were perhaps conflated because, compared with his father and his son, Fouke II was a minor personage. The historical Fouke I was a supporter of the

Empress Maud and her son, Henry II. Henry trusted and appreciated Fouke, giving him

two manors, a gift of money, and pardoning several of his debts. In 1160, Fulk I “was in

charge of arming and provisioning Dover Castle . . . which, after the Tower, was perhaps the most important in England” (Meisel 34–35). Fouke II was not close to either Henry

II or Richard, and the only records of him at court are in connection with lawsuits. He married the heiress Hawise de Dinan, but had difficulty with her family gaining possession of her lands (Meisel 35–36).

3 M. Dominica Legge agrees with these dates (Anglo-Norman 171).

4 In order to convey the political attitude of the Marcher barons during this period, I quote

historian Janet Meisel at length: “From a Marcher point of view, the history of the

thirteenth century is markedly different from the versions found in modern texts. Magna

Carta was an irrelevant distraction. . . . In short, for the Marchers, thirteenth century

England bore little resemblance to the England of the chroniclers, much less to the

England of modern historians. They knew, even if many of their contemporaries overlooked the fact, that there were at least two Englands in the thirteenth century— royalist or regicentric England, about which the chroniclers wrote, and Marcher England, which, if ignored by the chroniclers, was not (to the Marchers’ dismay) entirely ignored by the English kings” (xvi-xvii).

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5 Although the historical Fouke III was highly regarded by Henry III, there is no evidence that he was appointed Warden of the Marches by King Richard, as the romance says, or that any of his family ever held that position. Historian Frederick C. Suppe searched historical records attempting to find evidence of the family’s wardenship, finally concluding that “all ideas of Fitz Warins as wardens in the March . . . are based upon the

Legend of Fulk Fitz Warin, if they are based on anything at all” (166–68).

6 Glyn S. Burgess (Two 127) also agrees that the verse romance was written in the second half of the thirteenth century, while the authors of the Anglo-Norman Text Society edition date the verse romance to the late thirteenth century (Hathaway, et al. ix).

7 For Revard’s evidence of the scribe’s work other than his manuscripts, see his “Scribe

and Provenance.”

8 Timothy Jones also asserts that the verse romance’s author was a Ludlow cleric (233).

Derek A. Renn draws attention to the author’s minute knowledge of Ludlow Castle (56).

9 Also see Dean and Boulton (92). Roger Pensom holds a minority view, referring

simply to “a possibly rhymed antecedent” (53).

10 Hathaway et al. note that the prophecies are customarily printed as verse in modern

editions (xix). In fact, according to Susanna Fein, it is probable that the scribe

intentionally left the prophecies in verse, their more common form (personal

communication with the author, October 3, 2007).

11 For more discussion on this point, see Hathaway et al. (lxxv–lxxvi).

12 Legge agrees that the prose version was “probably rewritten before 1314, for Fulk

Fitzwarin V” (Anglo-Norman 171).

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13 Burgess (Two ix) agrees.

14 Burgess (“I kan” 64) and Thomas E. Kelly (106) agree.

15 The local connection probably contributed to the scribe’s interest in the romance

(Burgess, Two 130).

16 For Revard’s theories explaining the break in copying, see “Scribe and Provenance”

108–09.

17 Also see D. J. Sheerin (177, note 22).

18 Wright’s addition of “a” before “bourne.”

19 Also see Burgess “I kan” (64).

20 According to Fein, “Though many Harley lyrics are in rhymed alliterative stanzas, none are in unrhymed long lines.” In addition, the scribe probably is not the author of

these particular lyrics (personal communication with the author, October 3, 2007).

21 There are, however, numerous illustrative sketches found throughout Harley 273 in conjunction with works copied by other scribes.

22 Jones (234) agrees.

23 Wright’s translation (Peter of Langtoft 373).

24 Wright’s translation (68–69).

25 Regarding the historical events, Meisel writes, “Precisely how much of a threat Fulk’s

rebellion posed to King John is difficult to determine. . . . It would seem, however, that

Fulk and his followers were, if not a direct threat to the throne, at least a considerable

nuisance to the king (36).

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26 All references to the romance are to the Anglo-Norman Text Society edition edited by

Hathaway et al.

27 All translations of Fouke le Fitz Waryn are Wright’s unless otherwise noted.

28 In actuality, Fouke III married heiress Matilda (Maud or Mahaud) de Vavasur within four years after his period of outlawry, but had difficulty gaining possession of some of her lands (Meisel 38).

29 Jones argues that this episode parallels that of Saint Margaret’s defeat of the demon in the guise of a dragon in her legend (“Geoffrey” 241–46).

30 For more information on Fouke III as a historical figure, see Burgess, Two 92–107.

For information on Fouke III and other members of the Fitz Waryn family, see Meisel,

Barons of the Welsh Frontier; and Suppe, Military Institutions on the Welsh Marches.

31 See Brandin “Nouvelles 23–24, Hathaway et al. xxvii–xxix, Ward 1: 503–4, and

Wright xiii for more examples of historical errors found in the romance.

32 There is, however, a twelfth-century French chanson de geste, Raoul de Cambrai, which also concerns the issue of inheritance. In the story, “the emperor grants the county of Cambrai to someone other than the late count’s infant son,” Raoul, then later tries to

“make it up to Raoul by giving him someone else’s fief!” (Bouchard 46). Although

Raoul grows into a cruel lord, the character Bernier remains loyal to him, but eventually returns his homage after Raoul murders Bernier’s mother (Bouchard 44).

33 Fouke IV fought for Henry against Simon de Montfort at Lewes in 1264 and died there, ignobly drowning in a stream under the weight of his armor. Fouke V died in 1315

(Meisel 52–53).

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34 For information on the actual Randolf III of Chester, see Burgess “I kan” (53–54); for

later links between Randolf and Robin Hood, see Burgess “I kan” (77–51).

35 For further reading about the Robin Hood tradition, see Helen Phillips, ed., Robin

Hood: Medieval and Post-Medieval; Stephen Knight and Thomas Ohlgren, eds., Robin

Hood and Other Outlaw Tales; Thomas H. Ohlgren’s “A Geste of Robyn Hode” in

Medieval Outlaws: Ten Tales in Modern English. Ohlgren, ed. 216–38; A. J. Pollard,

Imagining Robin Hood: The Late-Medieval Stories in Historical Context; Stephen

Knight, Robin Hood: A Complete Study of the English Outlaw; Stephen Knight, Robin

Hood: An Anthology of Scholarship and Criticism; and Thomas Hahn, ed. Robin Hood in

Popular Culture: Violence, Transgression, and Justice.

36 My translation.

37 My thanks to Carter Revard for clarifying my understanding of the latter point.

38 See, for example, the fabliaux of British Library MS Harley 2253.

CHAPTER VI

KING HORN

King Horn is judged by many to be one of the greatest English romances.

Generally considered to be the oldest surviving English romance, it exists today in three copies. Of these, that of the Ludlow scribe in Harley 2253 has long been underestimated.

In particular, this version places greater emphasis on romance than the other versions and, perhaps related to this, there is evidence that this scribe was familiar with and was influenced by the Anglo-Norman Romance of Horn. In addition, King Horn includes many romance elements and details that also appear in Fouke le Fitz Waryn: multiple sea voyages, the protagonist’s use of pseudonyms and disguises, his ready acceptance by a foreign king, his superb fighting skills and ingenious tactics, and in the end, his winning back of his ancestral lands and the resumption of his rightful position in his native land.

Synopsis

King Horn is the story of a prince whose land is lost to the Saracens, but who, through long perseverance, eventually wins back his kingdom. Horn is the son of King

Allof (or Murry) of Sudenne and of his queen, Godyld. When Horn is fifteen years old, his father is out riding with two companions when fifteen Saracen ships put ashore. The king bravely confronts the invaders, who swiftly kill the three men, then proceed to kill the other citizens who refuse to give up their Christian faith. Godyld escapes to live a

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hermit’s life in a cave, always praying for Horn. Meanwhile, the Saracens capture Horn

and his twelve companions. They know who he is, but he is so exceedingly beautiful that

they cannot bear to kill him, even though they know that if he lives, he will eventually

seek revenge. Instead, they set the thirteen children afloat in a ship with neither rudder

nor sail, assuming they will drown. Eventually Horn and his friends arrive safely in the

kingdom of Westnesse. Before the ship floats away, Horn addresses it, telling it that if it

returns to Sudenne, it should greet his mother and tell the pagan king that he, Horn, is safe and that the king will one day meet his death at Horn’s hands.

In their travels, the children happen to meet good King Aylmer of Westnesse. He admires the company and asks what they seek. Horn simply tells him that they come from a good family in Sudenne, which pagans have invaded, then put many to death and taken over the country. Although he gives his name as Horn, he does not reveal his identity as the king’s son, but humbly puts himself and his party at the mercy of the king.

Aylmer is immediately charmed by Horn’s appearance and his manners, and takes all the children home with him, where he has his steward Athelbrus teach Horn hunting, playing the harp, serving at table, and generally all the skills a young nobleman should have. His companions, too, are taught to be useful.

Horn is loved by all at court, and especially by Rymenild, the king’s daughter.

She cannot speak to him in public, but admires him from a distance. Finally she calls for

Athelbrus, telling him to bring Horn to her chamber because she is ill. Athelbrus fears that she might mislead his young charge, so instead he asks Horn’s companion Athulf to go to her. When the faithful Athulf arrives, the maid embraces him, calls him Horn, and

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tells him to promise to marry her. Athulf admits that he is not Horn and that he could never betray his friend, whereupon the maiden angrily berates Athelbrus for his trickery.

The steward confesses his reason for doing so: he fears the reaction of Aylmer; he then promises her that he will bring Horn. When Horn arrives, she falls on him and asks for his promise of marriage. He says it is not appropriate since he is merely the king’s foundling and she a princess. She sighs and faints. He takes her up and asks that she help him to become a knight, and then, he says, he will do her will. She immediately regains consciousness and has him ask Athelbrus to ask the king to knight him.

King Aylmer knights Horn, and Horn in turn does the same to his twelve companions. Horn and Athulf go to Rymenild, who again asks to be Horn’s wife. Horn, however, says that first he must prove himself as a knight. She gives him a ring that will protect him from death if he looks at it and thinks of her. She gives Athulf another ring.

While the rest of the court sits at table, Horn goes riding alone, encounters a Saracen ship on the shore, looks at Rymenild’s ring, beheads the pagan king and kills many of his men. He returns to court with his trophy head, saying that Aylmer has been repaid for knighting him.

Rymenild has a dream that upsets her greatly. In it, she catches a large fish, but then the net breaks and she loses the fish. Horn tells her that he will never betray her; he believes, rather, that someone else will cause them trouble. At the same time, Horn’s companion Fykenild, with evil thoughts, is out hunting with King Aylmer. He tells

Aylmer that Horn has sworn to kill the king and to take his daughter, and that at that very moment, as often, Horn is lying with her in her chamber. Aylmer returns, finds Horn in

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his daughter’s chamber, and orders him to leave. Horn tells the maiden that if he fails to

return in seven years, she should take another husband. He tells Athulf to protect her,

and then he departs.

After a journey by ship, Horn arrives in Ireland where he meets Athyld and

Beryld, the king’s sons. Horn, under the pseudonym Godmod, enters into service with

good King Thurston. At Christmas a pagan giant arrives, telling Thurston that one of his

own men will fight three of the king’s. If the king’s men win, the pagans will depart; if

the pagan wins, the kingdom will be theirs. Thurston says that Godmod and his two sons

will fight, but Godmod responds that three Christians against one pagan is unfair, so he

will fight alone. He does, and nearly kills the opposing giant. As his companions start to

carry the wounded giant away, the giant who had been the messenger says that only once

has he seen anyone strike as hard as Godmod, and that was King Murry, Horn’s father.

Godmod realizes that the giant is his father’s murderer, kills him, and in the melee that

follows, all the pagans and both Thurston’s sons are killed. Thurston makes Godmod his heir and intends to marry him to his daughter Ermenild. Godmod says that he will

continue to serve the king, and that when he desires Ermenild, he hopes that the king will

not deny him.

Godmod is beginning his seventh year in Thurston’s country when a messenger

comes seeking Horn. The message, from Rymenild and written by Athulf, says that the maiden is to be married to King Mody of Reynis unless Horn returns quickly. Horn reveals his true identity to the messenger, saying he will go to Rymenild. The messenger immediately boards ship to return to Westnesse with the happy news, but is drowned and

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washed ashore outside the maid’s window, causing her to wonder whether she will see

Horn again. Meanwhile, Horn tells King Thurston the entire story, asking for his help and promising to make Ermenild a good match with Athulf.

Horn arrives in Westnesse, changes clothes with a palmer, blackens his face, changes his expression, and goes alone to the castle, where he sits with the beggars among the wedding guests. Rymenild cries and looks woeful while Athulf is in the tower looking far and near for Horn. As the maid approaches Horn with the drinking horn, he asks her for a drink. He tells her that he is a fisherman who put out his net seven years ago and now has returned to see whether the net has caught anything. She does not understand his allusion to fishing and does not recognize him. He tells her to drink to

Horn, leading her to fear her lover is dead. She fills the horn and drinks, then gives it to him. Horn drinks, putting something into the drinking horn, asking her to consider what it is. She goes to her bower with her maids where she examines the horn and discovers the ring she had given Horn. She sends for the palmer, asking him how he obtained the ring. He tells her that he met Horn while on a ship bound for Westnesse, but Horn grew ill and died, giving the ring to the pilgrim and asking him to take it to Rymenild. The maiden falls onto her bed, calling for knives with which to kill her new husband and herself that night. Horn wipes off his face, revealing his true identity to Rymenild’s great joy, saying that he will bring his men to fight those of King Mody.

Horn and his men, joined by Athulf, return to the castle, killing many but preserving King Aylmer and Horn’s companions. Horn still does not know of Fykenild’s treachery. He has the bells rung to celebrate his wedding with Rymenild, and then

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announces to Aylmer his true identity, saying he never lay with the king’s daughter, nor will he consummate his marriage to her until he wins back Sudenne so she can lie with a king. He leaves by ship with the Irish knights, taking only Athulf from among his companions.

Horn and his men arrive in Sudenne. Athulf and Horn go ashore, finding a knight sleeping under his shield who says that the pagans took the land and he is assigned by them, against his will, to watch for the return of the good knight Horn, who killed the leader of the pagans. He explains that Horn and his companions, including his own son

Athulf, were sent away, and he only wishes to see the two of them again before he dies.

Horn reveals himself and Athulf. The knight tells Horn his mother is still alive and would be happy to know he still lives. Horn blows his horn and his men come out of their hiding places to slay the Saracens. Afterwards he has churches and chapels built, he returns his mother to the castle, and he reigns as king.

Fykenild, still in Westnesse, again resorts to treachery against Horn. He pays people to gain their allegiance and builds a castle surrounded entirely by water that can be reached only when the tide is out. He wishes to marry Rymenild, and King Aylmer dares not stand against him. Horn, in Sudenne, dreams that Rymenild is in a boat that capsizes. As she tries to swim to shore, Fykenild pushes her away. He awakes and tells

Athulf that they must return immediately because Fykenild has evil plans for the maiden.

Horn, Athulf, and his men return to Westnesse where they find Fykenild’s new castle. Horn is met by another of his companions, Arnoldyn, who tells him that

Rymenild’s second wedding has already taken place and that the castle is impregnable.

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Horn obtains a harp and he and some of his men pose as minstrels. Fykenild invites them

in to entertain his wedding guests. Horn makes Rymenild a lay, but she only faints.

Horn attacks, beheading Fykenild and, with his men, slaying all the allies of his former companion. He makes Arnoldyn the king of Westnesse after Aylmer.

Horn takes his men, Rymenild, and the faithful steward Athelbrus to complete his

unfinished business. First they travel to Reynis where they slay King Mody, then Horn

appoints Athelbrus to replace him as king. The others continue to Ireland, where Horn

has Athulf marry Ermenild. Finally, Horn takes Rymenild to Sudenne where they both

reign in true love as Christian monarchs as long as they live.

Transmission History

The tradition of Horn is one that predates the composition of King Horn by at

least one hundred years. Although the story may be much older, it survives today in four

forms: the Anglo-Norman Romance of Horn, and in English, King Horn, Horn Childe,

and Hind Horn. I will first discuss each of these in chronological order, then comment on

their relationships to each other. Finally, I will briefly discuss the possibility of oral

transmission of the story.

The earliest extant version is that of the Anglo-Norman Romance of Horn, also

called the Roman de Horn, or Horn et Rimenhild. Judith Weiss calls it “[i]ncontestably

the finest of the Anglo-Norman romances” (x), while J. Rawson Lumby described it as “a

full-fledged romance, with descriptions of rich adornments, of feastings, of battles, of

games, and of tournaments quite in the manner of the contemporary romances current in

France and in Norman England” (viii–ix). The story follows closely that of King Horn.

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The Romance of Horn was composed about 1170 to 1180 by “Mestre Thomas,”

according to the third line of the poem (Pope, Romance of Horn by Thomas).1 H. L. D.

Ward suspected Thomas to have been an Anglo-Norman (1: 454), although he “is probably not to be identified with the other Anglo-Norman Thomases” who composed

romances (Dean and Boulton 88). Mildred K. Pope and T. B. W. Reid state that he was apparently “a fully-trained harpist . . . widely removed from the humble jongleur” because of his detailed description of a lay being performed in lines 2776–2860 of the romance (2). A jongleur was merely a performer or entertainer, often with many skills,

while a harpist was regarded as a genuine musician. This work was intended to be the

second of a trilogy comprised of the stories of Aälof (Horn’s father), Horn, and

Hadermod (Horn’s son). The first seems to have been composed, and is mentioned from

time to time in literature of the period, but there is no evidence of the third (Pope and

Reid 3).

The Romance of Horn exists today in five copies: three incomplete versions and

two fragments. The complete romance would have been about 5250 lines in laisses

(Lumby viii). The most complete version is that found in Cambridge University Library

MS Ff. 6.17, ca. 1200 to 1250. It is incomplete at the end and contains 4519 lines.

Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Douce 132, dates to the mid-thirteenth century. Due to

lacunae, only 3042 lines remain. London, British Library MS Harley 527, mid-thirteenth

century, is missing both the beginning and end, and has 2761 lines. Both fragments are

found at Cambridge University Library: Additional MS 4407, late thirteenth century,

consists of two fragments from one leaf totaling 21 lines, and Additional MS 4470, ca.

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1200 to 1250, consists of two discontinuous leaves of 237 lines total (Dean and Boulton

88).2 Joseph Hall declared CUL Ff. 6.17 the best of the incomplete manuscripts, and

Harley 527 the “most imperfect” (li). Pope finds that all of the four longest manuscripts

are independent (The Romance of Horn by Thomas xv).3 The original is lost, she says,

but there are two versions of an intermediary copy. The first version is represented by

CUL Ff. 6.17, the second by the other manuscripts: “The two versions are alike in essentials but differ considerably in language, style, and correctness of versification, and occasionally in tone” (The Romance of Horn by Thomas lv–lvi).

Many scholars declare that the Anglo-Norman Romance of Horn is based on a lost English exemplar. Anna Hunt Billings asserts that “[t]he legend is undoubtedly of

English origin” (3). George H. McKnight argues that many details “seem to warrant . . . the Horn story as Germanic” (230–31). Although his title refers specifically to King

Horn, much of the material McKnight references also appears in the Romance of Horn, so he indirectly supports the argument for an English precursor. Lumby noted the

Germanic names, features, occasional English words, and allusions to the English people to support his claim for an English story behind the Anglo-Norman romance (xii–xiii).

The Romance of Horn “evidently represents an older and rather fuller English version,” claimed Ward (1: 448–49, 451). Both Pope and Helen Cooper argue for an English origin in part because of the pun on Horn’s name in King Horn and the mention of it in the Anglo-Norman version (Pope, “The Romance of Horn” 166–67; Cooper 29).

King Horn is the second of the surviving forms of the Horn story. Although for many years it was dated to about 1225, current scholarship dates it somewhat later.4

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Weiss asserts that it dates to about 1260 (personal communication May 12, 2007), while

Rosamund Allen in 1988 concluded that, based on her linguistic analysis, it dates to the

“last quarter of the thirteenth century” (“Date” 103). There exist “three closely similar

manuscript versions” of King Horn (Dunn and Byrnes 114). Hall, in his 1901 edition of

the three-beat couplet romance, listed the manuscripts as follows: Manuscript C,

Cambridge University Library MS Gg. iv. 12.2 (1530 lines), ca. 1260; Manuscript O,

Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Laud, Misc. 108 (1569 lines), in which Horn is ca. 1310 or later; and Manuscript L, London, British Museum [now British Library] MS Harley 2253

(1546 lines), in which Horn is ca. 1314 to 1320 (viii–x). Manuscript C is now generally accepted as having been written in about 1300 (Allen, “Date and Provenance” 103; Allen,

King Horn 3; Corrie 65).5 Manuscript O also is now dated ca. 1300 (Dunn 206, Treharne

463).6 The version of Horn in Manuscript L is generally accepted as having been copied

in the vicinity of Carter Revard’s date of ca. 1340 to 1342, according to his paleographic analysis of the scribe’s handwriting (“Scribe” 62).7 Hall argued that the three

manuscripts derive from a common source that is not necessarily the original text of the

romance (xi). As Figure 4 shows, he suggested that there are a number of intermediary

versions of the romance between the common original, A, and the surviving manuscripts,

that L and O are relatively closely related, and that none of the surviving versions is the source of the others. Walter H. French argued that Hall’s “hypothetical β, γ, and δ may never have existed” because, he writes, the variation among manuscripts could be attributable to the scribes of C, O, and L (100). In very general terms, C is considered to

be “the most accurate” manuscript of King Horn “although neither the earliest nor the

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most complete,” in the words of Allen (“Date and Provenance” 116). Hall agreed, saying

that usually C “seems to have best preserved the original meanings” (xii). Manuscript O, on the other hand, contains lines not found in the other manuscripts. “These consist mainly of lines repeated out of their proper context,” writes Hall, explaining that this scribe “seems to have been a mere copyist, and a not very intelligent one” (xi). L, according to French, “has been greatly undervalued. It is usually the best text we have”

(43). Allen declares that when this scribe found a fault in his text, “he guessed, and his guesses were right” (King Horn 62).

β C

A α δ L

γ

ε O

Fig. 4. Hall’s Schema of the Relationship of the Manuscripts of King Horn

Source: Joseph Hall, ed., King Horn: A Middle-English Romance Edited from the

Manuscripts, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1901), xi.

The third surviving form of the Horn story is that of Horn Childe, also called

Horn Childe and Maiden Rimnild. Charles W. Dunn and Edward T. Byrnes claim that it was written about 1320 (114). The work survives in one manuscript, Edinburgh,

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National Library of Scotland, Advocates MS 19.2.1, the Auchinleck manuscript, which

dates to ca. 1330 to 1340 (Auchinleck History and Owners). The text is incomplete,

missing a leaf in the middle and one or two at the end (Ward 1: 458). The romance as it stands contains 1136 lines in tail-rhyme, 12-line strophes (Lumby xiii). The plot is

similar in outline to that found in the Romance of Horn and King Horn, but there are a number of major changes, so ultimately it is less similar to them than they are to each other.

Finally, the fourth form of Horn is a ballad called Hind Horn, of which eight fragments in rhyming couplets remain (Hall lii). These fragments were collected and published in 1882 by F. J. Child in his English and Scottish Popular Ballads, where Hind

Horn appears as No. 17 in the first volume. This version, because of its nature, cannot be dated (Mills 44). The plot is extremely spare and is limited to the story of Horn and his lady with mention of the ring and of Horn’s disguise as a beggar.

The relationships among the four forms of the Horn story have become clearer with time. Scholars generally acknowledge that the plots of the Romance of Horn and

King Horn are very similar (Dunn 19; Ward 1: 455). Lumby noted “occasional parallelism between the two versions in minor details or even in phraseology” (ix–x).

The Anglo-Norman romance is about six times the length of the Middle English King

Horn. One would expect the Anglo-Norman version to contain details lacking in the shorter version—and this is true.8 One would consider it less likely to find episodes in

the shorter version lacking in the longer, but Lumby listed a number of them:

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Horn’s farewell to his boat, 139 ff.; Rimenild’s assistance in bringing

about the dubbing of Horn, 435 ff.; Rimenild’s dream, 651 ff.; Horn’s

charge to Athulf to care for Rimenild, 743 ff.; the drowning of the

messenger from Rimenild to Horn, 968 ff.; the palmer’s account of

Rimenild’s grief, 1035ff.; Athulf’s watching from the tower, 1091 ff.;

Horn’s fictitious tale to Rimenild of his own death, 1175 ff. (x)

These differences suggest a certain amount of independence between the versions and have led to disagreements among scholars as to which version influenced the other.

These are not, however, the only differences between the two that lead to such consternation. The most striking difference is a vast disparity in the style of the two works. While Lumby referred to the “simple, condensed, somewhat archaic manner of

King Horn” in which the episodes “are condensed almost to unintelligibility,” he found the Romance of Horn to be “a full-fledged romance” in a “sophisticated style” where events “are liberally supplied with motives and explanations” (viii, xi). Susan Crane notes how the Romance of Horn contains “a profusion of Anglo-Norman customs, stratagems, and word-plays; a host of uncles, cousins, and retainers; a wealth of spiced wines, white greyhounds, brocades, and jewels [, which] are swept entirely from the

Middle English scene, stranding each character and each encounter in apparently desolate space” (Insular Romance 29). Both Ward and McKnight argue that King Horn is an abridged form of a longer work (Ward 1: 455; McKnight 232), Ward suggesting that perhaps both the Romance of Horn and King Horn came from the same common source

(1: 455). One version could not derive from the other, asserts Lumby, but “quite

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probably Thomas, the French romancer, may have been to some extent influenced by this

English version” (xii). Joseph Ritson, writing in 1802, had only the Harley 2253 version

of King Horn and the Harley 527 version of Thomas’s work, but he pointed to the

differences in the names of characters and the style, and decided that King Horn might in

fact be based on another French romance of Horn, since he found it unlikely that a

translator would take “such excessive libertys” with his source text (3: 267). Elaine

Treharne also opts for “a non-extant Anglo-Norman exemplar, probably written in the

later twelfth century,” but not mentioning the Romance of Horn (463). Early critics

tended to write that King Horn could not have come from the Anglo-Norman version, but

more recent critics have taken the opposite view.9 In 1992, Weiss argued that not just

King Horn, but also Horn Childe “appear ultimately to depend on the Romance of Horn.”

The essential story “does not (as was once assumed) derive from a more “primitive” form

of the tale, but from very different conceptions of it” (xii). A year later, Jennifer Fellows

stated that “the general consensus is now that King Horn and Horn Childe are probably independently derived” from the Romance of Horn (viii). Although the two stories are very different in presentation, their plots are similar enough that scholars now generally agree that King Horn is essentially a rather free and distant abridgement of the Anglo-

Norman work.

Horn Childe and Hind Horn appear not to be related directly to King Horn. Both,

especially Horn Childe, seem to be derived indirectly from the Romance of Horn,

although Hind Horn could instead be derived from Horn Childe (Ward 1: 459; Mills 44;

Dunn and Byrnes 114; Child 191–92; Lumby xv). As early as 1866, Lumby suggested

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that whereas King Horn is essentially a southern version of the Horn story, Horn Childe and Hind Horn are part of a northern tradition (xv). Horn Childe does, in fact, contain geographical names from the north of England; line 10 of the romance itself says that

Horn operated north of the Humber (Mills 83), and Child’s Hind Horn ballads were collected in nineteenth-century Scotland (201–07). French argued that “a simplified form of the French version came to Yorkshire and was localized there,” becoming Horn Childe

(145). Hall’s theory, published in 1901, attempts to tie all four versions together logically. He argued that the events of the story of Horn actually took place in the southwestern part of England, and the basic story is told in King Horn. Eventually the story traveled northward with the Norsemen and was “strongly modified to suit the local circumstances” as Horn Childe. The Hind Horn ballad originated at about the same time and place. The Romance of Horn was then created by a poet using parts of the other versions. “The peculiar talent of Master Thomas has completely transformed the simple tale of adventure, embellishing it with details and investing it with the atmosphere of a

French romance of chivalry” (liv). We have seen that recent scholars are of the opinion that both King Horn and Horn Childe are derived from the Romance of Horn. Hall’s older theory does, however, present some interesting possibilities. Something similar could indeed have happened to account for the many variants, and critical opinion is not yet so settled that Hall’s idea is completely without merit.

One other possibility must be mentioned in relation to King Horn: that of oral transmission. An early critic writing in 1866, Lumby argued that King Horn was probably “composed directly from oral tradition,” while the Romance of Horn came from

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a written tradition (xiii). “Most medievalists are willing to acknowledge that the boundary between oral and written composition is not so clear—neither historically nor critically—as was once thought,” explains William A. Quinn (3). Hall, for instance, writing in 1901, argued that King Horn was unaffected by oral transmission (xiv). More recent critics, however, have set about trying to determine empirically whether the work is the product of oral transmission. James R. Hurt presents the results of his application of the Parry-Lord theory of oral-formulaic composition to King Horn. According to the theory, “a singer may improvise a long narrative poem by filling out a general memorized outline with conventional elements,” which are formulas and themes. “A formula is . . . a stock verbal and metrical unit; a theme is a stock nonverbal narrative element” (52). For example, in comparing the manuscripts’ descriptions of a voyage, Hurt discovers that

“[t]here is no attempt at realistic description, merely a stock sequence of “journey”

elements, which may be expressed in formulas” (56). He concludes that “King Horn

seems likely to have been, at some point in its history before it was written down, an oral-

formulaic poem in the strict sense of the term.” He asserts that the story was dictated by

a singer, then the scribes worked in something like an oral-formulaic style, but with fewer

formulas (58). Murray McGillivray argues, however, that “most formulas in the

romances are fixed rather than improvisational” showing that they “are the product of

memorization and reproduction from memory, like most orally performed literature.”

For this reason, he writes, attempts to apply the oral-formulaic theory to romances have

failed (4). He prefers another type of analysis: “Memorial transfer, the movement of

material from one part of a text to another part which is physically remote but which is

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liable to confusion with it because of similarities of situation, content, or language, is a very secure indication that the entire text in which it occurs has at some stage of its transmission been committed to memory” (5). He argues that “[e]rrors which are due to memorization of a whole text are errors introduced by minstrels” (126–28). Following his analysis of four romances including King Horn, McGillivray writes that:

[t]he conclusion that reproduction from memory was a very common step

in the transmission of romances cannot be avoided. Since scribes would

have no reason to memorize the texts but minstrels would, the widespread

presence of memorial transfer shows that in many cases the texts which

have come down to us are the texts which were published abroad by

minstrels. (6)

Anne Scott argues that King Horn was “at least partly composed in writing but . . . was

built upon an oral foundation” (40). Allen argues that “the poem did have a fixed,

original text which can be recovered by the sifting of variant meanings,” yet four years

later she states that “the poem, as far as we can tell, was apparently modified orally,

perhaps at several stages in the transmission” (King Horn 34; “Date and Provenance”

119). Critics are becoming more willing to accept the possibility of oral transmission as it applies to Middle English romance.

Because of the extremely limited number of texts, one would assume that the

transmission history of King Horn would be fairly simple. As is now obvious, it is in

reality far more complex. King Horn is derived in some sense from the Romance of

Horn—but there are those who argue that the relationship is in fact the reverse of this.

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There also seems to be an element of oral transmission involved. The combinations of written and oral elements are limitless, and go far in suggesting reasons for the immense variety of tantalizing similarities among the four forms of stories in the Horn tradition, and the three manuscript versions for King Horn.

Structure and Argument

King Horn tells the story of a fifteen-year-old who, in a brief turn of Fortune’s wheel, goes from pampered prince to homeless wanderer. Following the familiar “exile and return” pattern common to romances, often with doubled episodes, Horn matures as he makes his place in the world. He becomes a knight, winning renown, and he gains the love of the princess Rymenild, all the while working to defeat Saracens and maintain the ascendancy of Christianity. Along the way, he must learn to balance his life between the demands of knighthood and those of love. Horn avenges himself on his father’s killer, his own traitorous companion Fykenild, and Rymenild’s would-be husband King Mody.

In the end, he places his allies on the thrones of two countries and takes up his rightful place as King Horn of Sudenne with Rymenild as his queen. In storybook fashion, they live happily ever after. Beneath the surface of the story, the reader or listener learns how

a good leader should act, and that good behavior is ultimately rewarded and bad punished.

Although Fortune is not always kind to Horn, God has given him certain innate advantages that help him in his journey through life. His most obvious characteristic is his extreme beauty: “Muche wes þe feyrhade / Þat Jhesu Crist him made” [Great was the beauty / That Jesus Christ gave him] (89–90).10 His beauty attracts people to him and

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makes them favorably disposed to him. The leader of the Saracen invaders cannot bear to kill him (105–09); King Aylmer predicts his fame and takes in both him and his companions (219–22); all of Aylmer’s court loves him (251–53); Rymenild loves him

“For he wes feir and eke god” [For he was fair and also good] (258); and King Thurston tells his son Beryld that when the son woos, Horn will steal his ladies from him, “For

Godmodes feyrehede / Shalt þou nower spede” [Because of Godmod’s beauty, / You will never be successful] (803–04). Horn’s best friend, Athulf, tells Rymenild that “Horn is fayr and ryche; / Fayrore by one ribbe / Þen ani mon þat libbe” [Horn is fair and rich /

Fairer by one rib / Than any man that lives] (322–24). This last couplet is high praise indeed. According to Crane, it means “simply that Horn’s physical perfection exceeds that of ordinary men as Adam’s and Christ’s perfect bodies, created directly by God, exceeded those of ordinary men” (“Fairer” 117). In addition, he is “þe wyseste / And of wytte þe best” [the wisest / And with the best wits] of the children who are exiled from

Sudenne (181–82). Also, “Hagiographic motifs are used of him: he is the wisest of youths, and his beauty lights up a room” (Burnley 385). Later, he becomes a paragon among knights in what becomes a “larger-than-life portrayal” of the hero (Scott 45).

The story of Horn’s exile and return is divided roughly into two halves. In the first half, Horn is set adrift with twelve companions from Sudenne, his native land, by the

Saracen invaders. The children reach Westnesse, where they are taken in by King

Aylmer. Here Horn becomes a knight, wins his first battle, wins the love of Rymenild, and is exiled by the maiden’s father for, as he believes, improper behavior with regard to the princess. The second half of the story begins with Horn’s arrival in Ireland. Here he

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is entirely on his own, completely cut off from his past. He adopts the name “Godmod”

(meaning “courage,” and perhaps “good thoughts” or something akin to “optimism” in

Anglo-Saxon), and has no companions to give context to those he meets. He must make

his own way. This he does, by again proving himself in battle and avenging the death of

his father. In Ireland, he wins the respect and admiration of King Thurston, who makes

him his heir and offers him his only daughter. After about seven years of success, Horn

returns to Westnesse, clears his name, marries Rymenild, and takes back Sudenne from

the Saracens. It is all very neatly done. Horn is “a thirteenth-century dream of what an

ideal feudal monarch might achieve within a properly functioning feudal system” (Hearn

85). As Crane notes, “Horn’s desire seems peaceable enough. . . . Horn is not an

adventurer, an expansionist, or even an aggressor. His prowess merely signals his

freedom and his right to determine the course of his life” (Insular Romance 32).

Everything he does has a purpose; he is a man of action: “Interest in King Horn is . . . not

in why or in the details of how something must be done, but in the fact that heroes do

what they say they will do, that they do what must be done” (Hynes-Berry 654). Horn is

very decisive; he never hesitates over a course of action, and he succeeds at everything he does.

Throughout the story there are many examples of parallels and doubled episodes.

Among Horn’s twelve companions, he has two particular friends, Athulf and Fykenild:

“Athulf wes þe beste, / Ant Fykenyld þe werste” [Athulf was the best, / And Fykenild the worst] (29–30). Athulf is devoted to Horn; even if Horn were dead or far away, Athulf would not betray him (325–28). It is he who is asked to watch over Rymenild in Horn’s

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absence (747–52), and he who also receives a ring from the princess when she gives one to Horn (561–76). Athulf remains faithful, and in the end is rewarded with a bride—the princess Ermenild of Ireland—and the stewardship (or kingship, this detail is unclear) of that land (1535–38). Fykenild, on the other hand, appears to be Horn’s only serious mistake. He is one of Horn’s two favorites (24–28), but we never see him helping Horn.

That role is always given to Athulf. Although Horn is close to Fykenild, he is blind to the latter’s treachery, “Þat fals wes ant untrewe, / Whose him wel yknewe” [Who was false and untrue / To whoever knew him well] (645–46). It is Fykenild who lies to King

Aylmer, telling him that Horn intends to murder the king and take his daughter, and that

Horn has been having illicit relations with the princess (691–700). Yet Horn does not know it was he, and when all his companions swear their loyalty, Horn believes them

(1255–62). Later, it is Fykenild who betrays Horn’s trust by taking Rymenild for his own wife despite her protestations (1403–24). Horn finally realizes his friend’s treachery as the result of a dream (1425–34), and repays him swiftly with death (1507–09).

Horn learns from his experiences and those of others so that when something similar happens later, he accomplishes the task in a way that is more advantageous for him and his reputation as a leader and a knight. Twice he is exiled: first from his native

Sudenne in a boat “Wiþoute seyl and roþer” (196)—although he apparently has oars

(122), he is still essentially at the mercy of the sea—and later, of King Aylmer. The second time, he is exiled from Westnesse. This time he leaves as a knight complete with his horse and armor. He is at no one’s mercy and is fully capable of making his own way, as he soon does in Ireland. Horn takes on three new identities in his travels. In

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Westnesse, he is no longer the prince, but is simply Horn “of gode kenne / Of Cristene

blode” [of good family / And Christian blood] (184–85). In Ireland he cuts all ties to the

past, becoming Godmod (773). When he returns to Westnesse to rescue Rymenild, he

becomes a minstrel (1497–99). In the story there are three battles with Saracen invaders,

forming two pairs of episodes. The first of these is the hopeless battle of Horn’s father

Allof and his two companions against fifteen ships of Saracens (37–62). Although the

king’s bravery is obvious, he is a mere mortal. In addition, Esha Niyogi De points out

that “Allof þe gode kyng” (33) is perhaps not such an ideal king after all because he is

completely unprepared for the Saracen attack (152–53). He, with his two friends, “Rod

upon ys pleyзyng / Bi þe see side” [Rode for his pleasure / By the seaside] when he meets

the invaders (34–35). Immediately after he is knighted, Horn encounters a Saracen ship

on the strand of Westnesse, which is convenient given that he is out looking for an

adventure in which to prove himself. After asking the intentions of the invaders, Horn,

alone but with Rymenild’s protective ring, proceeds to attack, demonstrating superhuman ability, killing “An houndred at þe leste” [A hundred at least] (612), repeating and

successfully reversing his father’s adventure. Victorious, he returns to King Aylmer with

the severed head of the Saracen leader, telling his story to the assembled court (617–40).

Horn later has the chance to fight, like his father did, as one of three, but to be on the

winning side. In this case, he is in Ireland and is to fight a Saracen giant along with King

Thurston’s two sons. Horn, however, says that he will fight alone since it is not fair for three Christians to fight one Saracen. He could fight as one of three, but his sense of

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fairness, even against a Saracen giant, a “hounde” (839) will not allow it. Again, with the help of Rymenild’s ring, he is victorious (857–68).

Horn also experiences doubled events in his private life as a lover. He wins two princesses, Rymenild and Ermenild, without even trying. The first simply loves him; the second is part of his reward for driving the Saracens from Ireland, along with being named the king’s heir. Put bluntly, the first princess is, in a sense, unearned, while the second could be considered payment for a job well done, which afterwards he generously gives to his friend Athulf. There are two dreams in the story. First, Rymenild dreams that she is fishing and a large fish bursts her net: “Y wene Y shal forleose / Þat fyssh þat

Y wolde cheose” [I fear I shall lose / That fish I would choose] (665–66). Horn tells her that the fish represents someone who will do them harm (683–85). D. M. Hill disagrees, arguing that the fish represents Horn himself, and that Rymenild will lose him. “[T]he tearing of the net,” he writes, “implies the harm which love will suffer as a result of forthcoming events” (158). Indeed, at this very moment Fykenild is telling lies to King

Aylmer that will result in Horn’s exile. The second dream is that of Horn after he conquers Sudenne. He is seemingly in no hurry to return to Rymenild until he dreams that she is drowning and that Fykenild is pushing her away from shore (1425–34). He realizes instantly that Fykenild is a traitor who has evil plans for the maiden, and that he must immediately return to rescue her, which he does. Whereas the first dream serves as a warning of an event that is imminent, the second is more specific, showing the source of the threat and giving Horn time to avert it. Also, it shows that, although Rymenild had been the active party in the wooing process, “Horn has not just passively accepted her

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passionate wooing, but now he himself feels a spiritual bond between them” (Hynes-

Berry 659). Horn rescues Rymenild twice from undesired would-be husbands. When

Horn goes to rescue her from her first suitor, King Mody, he changes clothes with a palmer, disguising himself as a beggar. When his repeated requests to join the bridal feast are refused, he resorts to violence, breaking three of the porter’s ribs in the process

(1069–83). Later, when he goes to rescue her from Fykenild, he must be more subtle.

The castle is impregnable, so he cannot enter by force. Horn and some of his men pose as minstrels, strike up a tune, and are subsequently invited to enter by Fykenild himself

(1479–96). We have seen that Rymenild dreams of a large fish breaking a net.

Symbolically, Rymenild is catching Horn: she is the fisher while he is the prey (Hill 158).

As he matures, however, the situation changes and he gains mastery. When, disguised as a palmer, he goes to rescue Rymenild from King Mody and first confronts her after an absence of seven years, he tells her that seven years previously, he had put out a net, and he has returned to see whether the net has caught anything (1134–45). This speech, which Rymenild does not understand, serves partly to tell her who he is, partly to ask whether he has arrived in time (finding the net empty) and most importantly, to show that

Horn is now the fisher and Rymenild is the prey (Hill 160–61). He has now brought his relationship with Rymenild into balance so she is no longer the pursuer: he is. Their relationship is now aligned with traditional values (Scott 45).

In Horn’s journey to maturity, he must learn to balance his personal life with his professional life. At Westnesse, he is pursued by Rymenild, as we have seen. The steward Athelbrus, who also acts as Horn’s tutor, tries to keep the princess from him,

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regarding her as a potential threat, “an engulfing private relationship” (De 155). When

finally they meet, Horn tells her that he will not commit to her until he is dubbed a knight

(437–46). He himself realizes that he is at risk of erring on the side of love, and that he

must not let that happen. He must fulfill his destiny, and to do that, he must first become

a knight. The fact that Aylmer is very willing to knight Horn at his steward’s request is a

sign of the king’s great admiration for the young man, since “This formal knighting . . .

was a very elaborate, very expensive coming-of-age ceremony” (Bouchard 25).11 Horn

becomes a knight, but that is still not good enough. When the maiden again insists on

marriage, he responds that he must be a proven knight (539–52). She does not argue, but

presents him with a ring that will give him protection in battle when he looks at it and

thinks of her (569–74). The ring, then, serves both as a token of love and as a form of

armor. Actually, as Mary Hynes-Berry remarks, “the real magic of the ring is the

strengthening and inspirational power of love” (660). Horn is exiled because he is found

in Rymenild’s bower, which seems to lend support to Fykenild’s accusation of

fornication. At this point his personal life has caused his reputation to suffer, and he is

forced to leave the country. When Horn leaves Westnesse as an exile, he is doubly

armed. First, he arms himself to prepare for his journey (718–21); then he is armed with

Rymenild’s love, as well as her ring, as he encircles her in his own arms (741–42). Her love will help him in battle. When he is in Ireland, he takes on a new identity, not even mentioning Rymenild when he is offered the hand of the princess Ermenild in marriage, and not sending his love a message in all those years, to her great sorrow (925–30). Here,

“he seems to stand in danger of total absorption in the vocations of hero and king” (De

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157–58). He is abruptly brought back to awareness by the news that she is to be married

to King Mody. After his rescue of her, he again leaves, conquering Sudenne. Although the battle itself is described in only six lines (1385–90), Horn lingers to have churches built and to have his mother brought back to the castle from her hermit’s cave. He begins life anew in Sudenne:

Croune he gan werie

Ant make feste merye.

Murie he þer wrohte,

Ah Rymenild hit abohte.

[He began to wear a crown

And to make merry feasts.

He wrought merriness there,

But Rymenild suffered for it.] (1399–1402)

Again he forgets Rymenild. Again he is reminded of her by means of a shock: this time she is in danger from Fykenild, as Horn’s dream warns him (1425–34). He returns to

Westnesse, rescues Rymenild, and finally manages to balance his two lives. “Horn toc

Rymenild by honde” [Horn took Rymenild by the hand] and leads her to a ship (1519).

From then on, they are together. He has proven himself as a knight, and now he takes

Rymenild with him as he makes Athelbrus king of Reynes, marries Athulf to Ermenild, and finally arrives in Sudenne, where he lives with Rymenild as his queen.

Throughout the story there is a strong undercurrent of Christianity. Although we never see Horn spending the night in a vigil or praying, he is quite obviously a Christian

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knight. He fights Saracens. Although the idea of Saracens in medieval England raises a few eyebrows, these are an ideal enemy. Unlike the Norsemen who did actually invade from time to time, the Saracens are by definition not Christian, nor do they look anything like the people living in England, being “loþe ant blake” [hateful and black] (1331). The

Saracens are a demonized “Other.” The audience of King Horn instantly feels revulsion for these “heþene hounde” [heathen hounds] (596) that hold the Holy Land and against which crusades are launched. Horn is admired for fighting this natural enemy. When he takes his leave of Rymenild before his exile from Westnesse, she gives a moving speech, ending:

Horn, Crist Y þe byteche

Mid mourninde speche.

Crist þe зeve god ending,

Ant sound aзeyn þe brynge.

[Horn, I entrust you to Christ

With sorrowful words.

May Christ give you good results,

And bring you home again safely. (577–80)

Then he kisses her and she blesses him (581–82). They live in a Christian society, one in which their religion is a part of everyday life. A special point is not made of this in the story: it simply is this way. When Sudenne is lost at the beginning of the story, the

Saracens destroy churches and chapels (63–66); later, when Horn takes back Sudenne, one of his first actions is to have the churches and chapels rebuilt, officially reinstating

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Christianity (1391–94). Scott declares that one of the goals of King Horn, like that of saints’ legends, is “to illustrate pious, upright behaviour through the presentation of the hero’s character. Its also stresses the rewards of Christian vengeance” (44). Horn conquers his homeland, restoring Christianity.

Through the exile-and-return pattern of the story, we have seen that Horn learns what it means to be both a king/knight and a lover and to keep the two in balance.

Episodes are often doubled, giving Horn the chance to show what he has learned and how he has improved at solving similar problems when he encounters similar situations. At the end of the story, the Christians have the upper hand, while the Saracens and other villains are decisively punished. Horn, his friends, and the citizens of Sudenne,

Westnesse, and Reynis are presumably happy. Cooper is correct in stating that King

Horn “is designed to show the audience that right, capability, and divine endorsement go together” (342).

Genre of Romance

Although it is generally considered to be the oldest surviving romance in the

English language, not everyone agrees that King Horn is actually a romance (Ritson 3:

264; Hall lvi). It is such an unusual work that scholars have difficulty determining its genre. Several scholars consider the oral aspect of the work to be so important that they regard it as similar to a lay or a ballad. Some consider it to be related to the chanson de geste, while most consider it to be a romance of some sort. I will attempt to show that

King Horn is a primitive romance containing some aspects of the chanson de geste.

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The case for the oral transmission or an oral source of King Horn is strengthened

by the poem’s remarkable emphasis on direct speech as opposed to narrative. In fact,

nearly half the poem is composed of dialogue: 713 lines of dialogue as opposed to 838 lines of narrative. This, according to Kenneth E. Gadomski, is because “[t]he narrator believes in showing rather than simply telling” (134). This is true: the story moves quickly and is full of action rather than explanations. Likewise, the dialogue adds life that is sometimes missing from works that are largely made up of narrative. Allen remarks that King Horn often gives the impression of being “early,” something she says

“probably merely reflect[s] the way the words were adjusted to a musical score of some kind” (“Date and Provenance” 118). French argued strongly for King Horn being a lay, explaining, “the lai had a special function, rather different from that of the romance. It existed to preserve the memory of a tradition. It differed from serious history, furthermore, in that the tradition was more local, recherché, and informal than the records and themes with which serious writers busied themselves” (4). He described the lay as being “a courtly product. It must have dignity,” and then he remarked that, “King Horn is clearly a poem of the court” (6–7). After reading the elegant Romance of Horn, it is hard to understand how anyone could see the spartan King Horn as “courtly.” In fact,

Allen argues specifically that “the poet was not concerned with the elaboration of courtly detail and etiquette,” and that the poem’s intended audience was the merchant class rather than the court (“Date and Provenance” 121). French remarked also that “[t]he connection with song and music . . . was fundamental in the early days of the lai, say before 1100”

(11). While it is true that Horn is trained to play the harp, and near the end of the story he

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disguises himself as a minstrel, French’s is very much a minority view. Child referred to

“The lay or gest of King Horn” (192), while Pope argues against the possibility “of an influence of the French narrative Lais” specifically on the Romance of Horn because “the literary activity of Marie de France, probably creator of the Lais, was slightly later than that of Thomas, Marie writing in the last third of the twelfth century, Thomas in the third quarter” (“The Romance of Horn” 166). This does not, of course, preclude King Horn from being a lay, but French has found no supporters for his argument, and most critics

now claim that King Horn is derived from the Romance of Horn. Although stopping

short of calling King Horn a ballad, Allen admits that it “often resembles a ballad” (King

Horn 34). Lumby declared that the difference between King Horn and the Romance of

Horn “is perhaps more largely that between ballad and romance” explaining that in King

Horn the narrator is almost invisible and the story is extremely concise while the opposite is true for the Romance of Horn (xi). He writes later of “the ballad-like” King Horn,

“simple, even primitive in matter, in manner, and in metrical form” (xii). While admitting these characteristics, he did not say outright that King Horn is a ballad.

A number of critics point up the chanson de geste elements of the story. As I have already remarked, Child called it “[t]he lay or gest of King Horn” (192). The manuscript itself refers to the work in a heading above the poem’s first line as “þe geste of Kyng Horn.” However, as Weiss notes, “Women play a far more important role in romance than in the chanson de geste” (xi). In a chanson de geste, in fact, the elimination of the women would not tend to make a great difference in the story, whereas in King

Horn, Rymenild is indispensable. French saw the Saracens and the view of chivalry as

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belonging to the chanson de geste (18–19), while Diane Speed argues that Horn has “the qualities of courage, leadership, loyalty, and piety of many chanson heroes.” Like them, and as in the Chanson de Roland in particular, Horn also has “a special relationship with one of his companions, Athulf,” like the friendship of Roland and Olivier, and “[h]e is

also a king . . . served by a special group of twelve,” like Charlemagne and his Twelve

Peers (593). The verse, too, suggests something older than romance. Hall writes “[t]he

verse of King Horn is native, being a natural development of the Old English alliterative metre greatly accelerating in its later stages by the strong influence of French prosody”

(xlv). More decisively, Pope and Reid see King Horn as “illustrating a stage in the

passage from epic to romance” (6), and Treharne notes “many thematic elements seen in

Old English heroic verse combined with the love interest that inspires so many later

Romance heroes” (463–64).

Although King Horn is an early English romance, such romances were not to

reach a level of popularity until the fourteenth century (Cooper 29), by which time, Allen

writes, King Horn “was certainly an old-fashioned romance” (King Horn 62). The

poem’s success is due in part to its very simplicity. It is marked as an early romance

largely by its “narrative compression, . . . repetition and parallelism,” which give it

“something of the timelessness and universality of the folktale” (Fellows ix). Dunn and

Byrnes call it “a primitive romance” because of its emphasis on “the basic and universal

ingredients of romances—religion, love, and warfare” (114). There is none of the lush

description one finds in French or Anglo-Norman romances, for instance. The characters

found in King Horn, however, are very typical of those of Middle English romance.

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Horn is described as being extraordinarily beautiful, and “godlike stature is of course the stock attribute of a romance hero and the outward sign of his moral superiority” (De 154).

The characters tend to be “flat.” They are models of perfection (like Horn) or of evil

(like Fykenild and the Saracens). They “lack inner contradictions, ethical standards

based on elements other than convention and lip service, true inner turmoil (despite their

excessive displays of grief or devotion)” (Sands 7). In King Horn, motivation is often unclear; the narrator tells us little in this regard.

King Horn is an early English romance that contains a number of characteristics of the earlier chanson de geste and also suggestions of an oral, perhaps musical, tradition.

Horn is handsome and brave; Rymenild is devoted; Athulf and Athelbrus are loyal;

Fykenild is treacherous. Through persistence and right behavior, and with the help of his beloved and of God, Horn punishes the villains and regains his rightful place in society.

The story is straightforward, concise, and engaging. There are no elaborate descriptions of clothing, battles, or feasts, no magic swords, no dragons, and only a few giants, yet this is a true romance.

Analysis of This Text’s Uniqueness

Although the three surviving texts of King Horn are “closely similar” (Dunn and

Byrnes 114), the version found in Harley 2253 (hereafter in this section referred to as L) has a number of significant and unique characteristics. The names used in this version, unlike those in the other two manuscripts, are influenced by those in the Romance of

Horn. Also, the scribe’s changes tend to be of excellent quality so that it is at times difficult or impossible to tell what may have been original and what the work of the

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scribe. Finally, the changes in this version of the poem make it both more logical and more courtly than the other two versions.

The three versions are, in most cases, very close. An example will make this clear.12 At this point in the story, Horn is addressing the boat that brought him and his twelve companions to Westnesse before he releases it to float away. Major changes from

L are in bold in the translations (see Figure 5).

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Manuscript L Translation

Зef þou comest to Sudenne, [If you arrive in Sudenne, Gret hem þat me kenne; Greet those who know me; Gret wel þe gode Greet well the good Quene Godild, mi moder. Queen Godild, my mother. Ant sey þene heþene kyng, And tell the heathen king, Jhesu Cristes wytherlyng, Jesus Christ’s enemy, Þat Ich hol ant fere That I, whole and healthy

In londe aryvede here, Arrived here in this land, Ant say þat he shal fonde And say that he shall find Þen deþ of myne honde. (149–58) Death at my hand.] Manuscript C Зef þu cume to Suddenne, [If you arrive in Sudenne, Gret þu wel of myne kenne, Greet well my kin, Gret þu wel my moder, Greet well my mother, Godhild quen þe gode; Queen Godild the good;

& seie þe paene kyng, And tell the pagan king, Jefucristes wiþerling, Jesus Christ’s enemy, Þat ich am hol & fer That I am whole and healthy On þis lond ariued her; Here arrived on this land; And seie þat hei schal fonde And say that he shall find Þe dent of myne honde. (143–52) The blow of my hand.] Manuscript O Wanne þou comes to Sodenne [When you arrive in Sudenne,

Gret wel al mi kinne Greet well all my kin And gret wel þe gode And greet well the good Quen godild,mi moder Queen Godild, my mother. Ant sey þat heþene king And tell that heathen king, Ihesu cristes wiþerling Jesus Christ’s enemy, Þat ichc lef and dere1 That I, beloved and dear, On londe am riued here Have arrived here on land, And sei þat he shal fonge And say that he shall receive

Þe deth of mine honde. (151–60) Death from my hand.] Fig. 5. Comparison of the L, C, and O Manuscripts of King Horn.

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Sources: L: Elaine Treherne, ed., Old and Middle English c. 890–c. 1400: An Anthology,

2nd ed. (Alden, MA: Blackwell, 2004), 467.

C and O: Joseph Hall, ed., King Horn: A Middle-English Romance Edited from the

Manuscripts, (Oxford, Clarendon, 1901), 10–11.

Although C is usually taken to be “very close to the original text of the poem,”

French argued that this is not true. Among the problems he listed are that the sense of C

is often inferior, the scribe omits lines, the order of lines is often unsatisfactory, the

rhyme often incorrect, the meter often bad, and the spelling not phonetic (French 36–38).

O is, however, worse: “Manuscript O . . . was an . . . unintelligent and mechanical

reproduction” (French 43). Hall expressed the same opinion; in his words, the O scribe

“seems to have been a mere copyist, and a not very intelligent one” (xi). He added, “[t]he

scribes handled their texts with great freedom whenever they thought they could improve

on the sense or the metre of the original” (xii), but the scribes were not always successful.

The scribe of L, however, made some very interesting changes, often successful, that we

will now consider.

The names used by the scribe of Harley 2253 have often been remarked since they

show evidence of “correction” of the text from that of the Romance of Horn. Near the

beginning of King Horn, in lines 4, 33, and 73, Horn’s father is named as “Allof.” The

name becomes “Murry” and “Mury” in lines 873 and 1345, respectively. In O, he is

generally called “Morye” (4 ff.) and in C, “Murry” (4 ff.) or “Murri” (31 ff.). When Horn

is in Ireland, he takes the pseudonym “Godmod” in L (773 ff.), but O gives “Cuberd” (96

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ff.) and C “Cutberd (767 ff.). The Romance of Horn gives Horn’s father’s name as

“Aaluf” or “Aalof,” and the pseudonym as “Gudmod” (Hall liii). Lumby failed to mention the appearance of “Godmod,” but said that the use of “Allof” shows the scribe’s acquaintance with the Romance of Horn, and his use of “geste” in the heading as well as the forms of some nouns “[m]ake us believe that the scribe was an Anglo-Norman”

(xxix).13 Hall was not convinced that the scribe changed the names: “L may have passed though a MS δ, which has substituted Allof for Murry . . . and has subjected γ to an extensive revision, or the writer of L may be responsible for these alterations” (xiv).

Francisque Michel claimed that the scribe had either the French story in mind, or an older

English redaction that used “Alof.” The scribe, he argues, intended to write “Alof,” but did not fully understand the text and copied “Murry,” believing him to be a different character (Horn xxxviii–xxxix). Ward’s explanation of the change is unique: “It is evident that the original of [L] gave the name Murry to Horn’s father, and that the collector instructed the scribe to change the name to Allof; for in two places Murry has been preserved by the rhyme” (1: 465). Ward did not, however, have a similar explanation for “Godmod,” but he did seem to contradict himself regarding “Allof.” On the very next page, he concluded that the scribe was familiar with the French romance because he changed both Horn’s father’s name and Horn’s pseudonym to those found in the Romance of Horn. In addition, he added another piece of evidence for this explanation. In King Horn Fykenild is Horn’s friend who becomes a traitor. Ward noted that in line 1256, the scribe writes “Fykeles falssede” rather than “Fykenildes falsede,” commenting “We suspect that he had the French name of that traitor, Wikeles, in his

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mind” (1: 466).14 It is clear that someone, perhaps the Ludlow scribe, used the French names while copying the English poem and it is likely that these names were in his memory, rather than in his exemplar.

Both Hall and Allen agree that L is often a better text than the other two, but they have different explanations for this. Hall explained that “L often fails to agree with O because it or its predecessor δ has been carefully edited by a man who aimed at pure rhymes, smooth rhythm, delicacy of expression and consistency of sense” (xiii). Allen has two explanations that go hand in hand. In part, she agrees with Hall, but she also sees that the L scribe “shows an antiquarian interest in preservations of old words and archaic grammar typical of a scholar” (King Horn 14). This propensity, she says, is demonstrated by the fact that he is obviously “well-versed in the tradition of romance diction and formulaic style,” and that he is so good at making convincing alterations that it is often impossible to tell what parts of the text should be attributed to his changes

(King Horn 62). In addition, she asserts that he had access to a better version of King

Horn than the common ancestor. She suggests, however, that he did not have his exemplar before him. In some cases, she explains, it is “as if he were writing from a suddenly lapsed memory and using his general familiarity with the plot, and his knowledge of romance idiom and formulae, to piece out lacunae, either in his memory, or in his exemplar.” The question then becomes, if the common ancestor was corrupt, how could L have so many correct readings? She elucidates:

the only explanation must be the Harley 2253 scribe himself: his

familiarity with the romance mode (as with the lyric) must have extended

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to total or nearly total memory of several romances and certainly most of

[King Horn]. What is more, what he knew by heart of [King Horn] must

have been in a version slightly different from and better than the one

which he was using as a written exemplar. (King Horn 30–31)

McGillivray does not agree that the L scribe had access to a better version. He says that in some cases it is impossible to determine what the original version was, and in other cases, Allen’s decision that a reading is superior is based on “aesthetic” considerations or relies on small pieces of evidence like the presence or absence of an article, for example

(136). There is strong evidence, though, that the scribe was very good at editing his text, as both Hall and Allen agree. Allen concludes that in many cases, “he guessed, and his guesses were right” (King Horn 62).

Although most of the variance among the three versions has little or no effect on the plot, there are a number of small changes in Harley 2253 that, taken together, serve to make King Horn more logical and more courtly. There are no major variants: sometimes a couplet is added or removed, or a few words are changed. On the whole, though, the lengths of the versions are surprisingly similar: C has 1530 lines, L 1546, and O 1569.

When Horn and his company first arrive in Westnesse, they encounter King

Aylmer. It is Horn who speaks for the new arrivals because, according to C, “He was þe fairefte / & of wit þe befte” [He was the fairest / And with the best wits] (173–74). O is similar. These two statements make little sense: why would the fairest one speak for the group? L makes better sense: “He wes þe wyseste / And of wytte þe beste” [He was the wisest / And with the best wits] (181–82). Shortly thereafter, when Horn reveals his

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name, Aylmer says, in C and O, that Horn will be famous; his name will pass from king to king for his great beauty and the strength of his hand (C 211–16; O 221–26), while L

omits the reference to Horn’s strength. His beauty, even in his bedraggled condition,

would be obvious, but at his point Horn has not yet proven himself, so the reference to

his strength is extraneous and the L scribe omits it.

Horn spends about seven years in Ireland with King Thurston. While he is there,

he is known, as has already been stated, as Godmod (L), Cuberd (O), or Cutberd (C). The

texts continue to use the pseudonym to different points in the poem. In C, the text almost

immediately reverts to calling the protagonist “Horn.” Shortly after he arrives in Ireland,

he is to fight a Saracen giant. As C, the supposedly “best text” puts it, “Cutberd ros of

bedde / Wiþ armes he him schredde; / Horn his brunie gan on caste” [Cutberd got out of

bed / He clothed himself with his arms; / Horn began to put on his mail coat” (839–41).

From then on, he is continually called “Horn.” O keeps up the use of the pseudonym for

a longer period. Cuberd wins the fight, but both Thurston’s sons are killed so the knight

is named heir. A period of time passes, and we are told that Horn lived there for six years

(958–59). This works fairly well as a logical point at which to revert to his real name.

Harley 2253, however, continues to use the pseudonym up until the later point when a

messenger arrives. We have been told that he comes from Rymenild seeking Horn, then

“Horn seide: ‘Leve fere, / Whet dest þou nou here?’” [Horn said: “Dear friend, / What

brings you here?”] (949–50). When he hears the messenger’s charge, he freely admits his

identity; from then on, the spell is broken: he is once again Horn, as he immediately

confesses to King Thurston. It is logical to wait until this point to resume calling the

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protagonist Horn. O works fairly well, also, but C makes no sense to the point of

confusion.

There are two other cases where Harley 2253 gives a more logical reading of the

text. First, when Horn is named Thurston’s heir, he says in both C and O that he will

remain for seven years (C 909–14; O 950–55), while L says only that he will continue to

serve the king (921–22). All the versions say that before he leaves Westnesse, he tells

Rymenild that he will live in a foreign land for seven years, and if he does not return or send a message in that time, she should take a husband (L 733–39). Even if his battle with the giant takes place immediately upon his arrival, if Horn stays a full seven years, as he tells Thurston, he will be late returning to Rymenild. Therefore, L makes most

sense in not saying how long Horn will remain with the king. Near the end of the poem

after Horn beheads Fykenild, both C and O say that he then has the traitor drawn (C

1491–92; O 1540–41). This may perhaps be a chanson de geste artifact, since in the

Chanson de Roland, the traitor Ganelon is drawn—but he is alive at the time. In L, this detail is omitted, perhaps as unnecessary violence, perhaps simply as superfluous since

Fykenild is already dead.

Several changes in Harley 2253 make the poem more courtly, more like a romance than the other two versions. L contains a unique reading when we are told of

Rymenild’s desire to speak with Horn. The protagonist is described by the narrator as

“Horn þat wes so feir ant fre” (267). This is a stock romance formula, but the interesting

point is that it does not appear in either of the other two versions. Its purpose would

seem to be to make the poem more of a romance. The remaining examples deal with the

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portrayal of Rymenild and her love of Horn. When she thinks of him, wishing to speak

to him for the first time, C says, “Heo louede so horn child / Þat neз heo gan wexe wild”

[She loved Horn so / That she nearly became wild] (251–52). O is nearly identical, but it omits the word “neз” [nearly], making the statement even stronger (262–63). L,

however, merely says, “hue louede him in her mod / for he wes feir & eke god” [she

loved him in her thoughts / because he was beautiful and also good] (257–58). L’s

Rymenild has noble thoughts of Horn, while the same passage in C and O sounds very

much like lust. When the maiden finally meets the man she thinks is Horn, she does

“waxe wilde” [become wild] until she realizes the man is not Horn, but Athulf (or in O,

Ayol) (302). This is so in all three versions, and I argue that L left this phrase there by

mistake because of what happens next, before Rymenild realizes her mistake, in the other

two versions. In C, “Heo sette him on bedde; / Wiþ Aþulf child he wedde” [She sat him

on the bed; / With Athulf she grew passionate] (299–300). Again, O is almost identical.

L, however, is very different: “Hue seten adoun stille / Ant seyden hure will” [She sat down quietly / And said what she wished of him] (205–06). Here, she has dignity; she is neither wild nor passionate, but she, the king’s daughter, simply calls in one of her father’s servants and tells him what she requires of him. In the next couplet, in all versions, he is lying in her arms as she speaks to him, but the episode ends quickly when

Athulf tells her that he is not Horn. When she finally does have Horn in her chamber, C says, “Heo sette him on pelle / Of wyn to drink his fulle” [She sat him on the coverlet /

To drink his fill of wine] (401–02). O is slightly different: “Sette he him on palle / Wyn hye dide fulle” [She sat him on the coverlet / [And] she poured out wine] (413–14). L

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omits these lines entirely. Although Rymenild does desire Horn, in L she is too refined to

resort to plying him with wine in order to make him more acquiescent. Because

Rymenild is so careful in her behavior, it is therefore rather shocking when Aylmer

confronts Horn after hearing Fykenild’s lies, calling her Horn’s “hore” (L 710). The

same word is used in O, where there may be some justification (731). It is, however, a

moment of high drama in L because it is so very clearly untrue. Finally, at the end of

King Horn when Horn and Rymenild are living in Sudenne as king and queen, L says that they live as Christians: “Ant wel hue loveden Godes lay” [And they well loved God’s law] (1544). This fact, omitted from both C and O, emphasizes the fact that L is a romance and that the protagonist and his lady behave rightly and have high values. Yes, it is a primitive romance, but these deft touches show that it is a romance nonetheless.

Bibliography of Versions of This Text

Printed Editions, Translations, and Facsimiles

Allen, Rosamund, ed. King Horn: An Edition Based on Cambridge University Library

MS Gg. 4.27(2) With an Analysis of the Textual Transmission. New York:

Garland, 1984.

Dunn, Charles W., and Edward T. Byrnes, eds. Middle English Literature. Garland

Reference Library of the Humanities 1330. New York: Garland, 1990.

Fellows, Jennifer, ed. Of Love and Chivalry: An Anthology of Middle English Romance.

London: J. M. Dent, 1993.

French, Walter H. Essays on King Horn. Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1940.

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Hall, Joseph, ed. King Horn: A Middle-English Romance Edited from the Manuscripts.

Oxford: Clarendon, 1901.

Ker, N. R., intro. Facsimile of British Museum MS Harley 2253. Early English Text

Society os 255. London: Oxford UP, 1965.

Lumby, J. Rawson, ed. King Horn, Floriz and Blauncheflur, the Assumption of our Lady.

1866. 2nd ed. Rev. George H. McKnight. EETS os 14. Oxford: Oxford UP,

1901.

Michel, Francisque, ed. Horn et Rimenhild: Receuil de ce qui reste des poëmes relatifs à

leurs aventures composés en françois, en anglois et en écossois dans les

treizième, quatorzième, et seizième siècles publié d’après les manuscrits de

Londres, de Cambridge, d’Oxford, et d’Edinburgh. Paris: Imprimé pour le

Bannatyne Club, 1845.

Ritson, Joseph. Ancient Engleish Metrical Romanceës. London: Bulmer & Co., 1802. 3

vols.

Ritson, Joseph. Ancient English Metrical Romances. 1802. Ed. Edmund Goldsmid.

Rev. ed. Edinburgh: Goldsmid, 1885. 3 vols.

Sands, Donald B., ed. Middle English Verse Romances. New York: Holt, Rinehart and

Winston, 1966.

Treharne, Elaine, ed. Old and Middle English c. 890–c. 1400: An Anthology. 2nd ed.

Alden, MA: Blackwell, 2004.

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Secondary Sources

Allen, Rosamund. “The Date and Provenance of King Horn: Some Interim

Reassessments.” Ed. Edward Donald Kennedy, Ronald Waldron, and Joseph

Wittig. Medieval English Studies Presented to George Kane. Woodbridge, Eng.:

Brewer, 1988. 99–125.

Allen, R[osamund]. S. “Some Textual Cruces in King Horn.” Medium Ævum 53 (1984):

73–77.

Cooper, Helen. The English Romance in Time: Transforming Motifs from Geoffrey of

Monmouth to the Death of Shakespeare. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004.

Corrie, Marilyn. “Kings and Kingship in British Library MS Harley 2253.” Yearbook of

English Studies 33 (2003): 64–79.

Crane, Susan. Insular Romance: Politics, Faith, and Culture in Anglo-Norman and

Middle English Literature. Berkeley: U of California P, 1986.

[Crane], Susan Dannenbaum. “‘Fairer Bi One Ribbe/þane Eni Man þat Libbe’ (King

Horn C315–16).” Notes and Queries ns 28 (1981): 116–17.

De, Esha Niyogi. “Patterns of Coherence: A Study of the Narrative Technique in King

Horn.” Proceedings of the Illinois Medieval Association 3 (1986): 149–61.

Dean, Ruth J. and Maureen B. M. Boulton. Anglo-Norman Literature: A Guide to Texts

and Manuscripts. Anglo-Norman Text Society Occasional Publications Series 3.

London: Anglo-Norman Text Society, 1999.

Dunn, Charles W. “Romances Derived from English Legends.” Romances. Vol. 1 of A

Manual of the Writings in Middle English 1050–1500. J. Burke Severs, gen. ed.

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New Haven: The Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, 1967. 17–37, 206–

24.

Gadomski, Kenneth E. “Narrative Style in King Horn and Havelock the Dane.” Journal

of Narrative Technique 15 (1985): 133–45.

Hearn, Matthew. “Twins of Infidelity: The Double Antagonists of King Horn.”

Medieval Perspectives 8 (1993): 78–86.

Hill, D. M. “An Interpretation of King Horn.” Beiblatt zur Anglia (Halle, Belg.) 75

(1957): 157–72.

Hurt, James R. “The Texts of King Horn.” Journal of the Folklore Institute 7 (1970):

47–59.

Hynes-Berry, Mary. “Cohesion in King Horn and Sir Orfeo.” Speculum: A Journal of

Medieval Studies 50 (1975): 652–70.

Jamison, Carol Parrish. “A Description of Medieval Romance Based upon King Horn.”

Quondam et Futurus: A Journal of Arthurian Interpretations 1.2 (1991): 44–58.

McGillivray, Murray. Memorization in the Transmission of the Middle English

Romances. Albert Bates Lord Studies in Oral Tradition 5. New York: Garland,

1990.

McKnight, George H. “Germanic Elements in the Story of King Horn.” PMLA:

Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 15 (1900): 221–32.

O’Brien, Timothy D. “Word Play in the Allegory of King Horn.” Allegorica: A Journal

of Medieval and Renaissance Literature 7.2 (1982): 110–22.

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Oliver, Walter. “King Horn and Suddene.” PMLA: Publications of the Modern

Language Association of America 46 (1931): 102–14.

Pope, Mildred K. “The Romance of Horn and King Horn.” Medium Ævum 25 (1956):

164–67.

Quinn, William A. Jongleur: A Modified Theory of Oral Improvisation and Its Effect on

the Performance and Transmission of Middle English Romance. Washington,

DC: UP of America, 1982.

Scott, Anne. “Plans, Predictions, and Promises: Traditional Story Techniques and

Configuration of Word and Deed in King Horn.” Ed. Derek Brewer. Studies in

Medieval English Romances: Some New Approaches. Cambridge: Brewer, 1988.

37–68.

Sobecki, Sebastian I. “The 2000 Saracens of King Horn.” Notes and Queries 52 (2005):

443–45.

Speed, Diane. “The Saracens of King Horn.” Speculum: A Journal of Medieval Studies

65 (1990): 564–95.

Ward, H. L. D. Catalogue of Romances in the Department of Manuscripts in the British

Museum. Vol. 1. 1883. London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1961.

Ziegler, Georgianna. “Structural Repetition in King Horn.” Neuphilologische

Mitteillungen: Bulletin de la Societe Neophilologique/Bulletin of the Modern

Language Society 81 (1980): 403–08.

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Notes

1 Weiss (x) dates the Romance of Horn to ca. 1170, as do Pope and Reid (124). Allen prefers 1175 (“Date and Provenance” 102), while a number of others opt for 1170–80

(Pope “Romance of Horn” 164; Dunn and Byrnes 114; ad Dean and Boulton (88).

Burnley’s date is late twelfth century.

2 Hurt argues that all three of the incomplete manuscripts date to the late thirteenth

century (49), while Ritson declared Harley 527 to be “as old as the twelfth century” (3:

267). E. G. W. Braunholtz dated CUL Additional MS 4470 to the early fourteenth century (23).

3 Presumably because of its extreme brevity, Pope was unable to determine whether the

shorter of the fragments was derived from any of the other manuscripts.

4 Among those who accept the date of 1225 are Helaine Newstead (13), Dunn (17–18),

and Treharne (463), while Billings dates it to ca. 1100–1250 (xii).

5 Treharne assigns C to the beginning of the fourteenth century (463), while Charles W.

Dunn argues for a date ca. 1260–1300 (206).

6 Corrie dates O to the late thirteenth century (65), and Allen to the late thirteenth or early

fourteenth century (King Horn 8).

7 Allen asserts that it dates to the 1330s (King Horn 13), while Treharne assigns it to ca.

1340.

8 For a description of these details, see Ward, 1: x-xi.

9 Both Child (192) and Hall (liii–liv) argue that King Horn cannot have its origins in the

Romance of Horn. Hall’s argument is based partly on the fact that the names are often

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different between the two versions and “English romances regularly keep the names of their French originals” (liii).

10 All line references to King Horn, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the text of

Harley 2253 as published in Treharne’s Old and Middle English c. 890-c. 1400: An

Anthology.

11 This was the tradition from the late thirteenth century—the time some critics believe

King Horn was written—to the end of the Middle Ages (Bouchard 25).

12 The line references to O and C refer to the texts found in Hall.

13 The Short Metrical Chronicle, too, shows Anglo-Norman bias.

14 Hall gives the French name of the traitor as “Wikel” (liii).

CHAPTER VII

THE ORGANIZATIONAL METHODOLOGY OF THE

LUDLOW SCRIBE OF HARLEY 2253

The Ludlow scribe copied with a purpose, or rather, with several intersecting purposes. He collected and copied texts in order to compile books, the first two of these overlapping for a number of years, and the last two overlapping for perhaps one year or so. He compiled sacred and secular works in three languages to cover a wide range of themes and topics, but predominantly, it appears, to teach and to entertain. Various texts serve to encourage devotion, as well as to teach the readers to be good leaders or vassals.

Among his emphases are the importance of good leadership, justice, right behavior, and loyalty to the king. The compiler also taught his readers by giving practical information to them and acquainting them with a degree of courtliness by means of some of the romance material. These romances, along with such other works as the lyrics and the fabliaux, both educate and entertain. Readers are frequently taught important lessons with subtlety and by means of history, the texts repeatedly emphasizing the topics listed above. As we have seen, the scribe altered the tales as they passed through his hands, usually increasing their readability by trimming away information, by adding explanations to clarify meaning, or by changing words to improve logic or to alter the rhyme of metrical works. Some of the scribe’s changes to the texts tend to betray

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Anglo-Norman bias, perhaps suggesting that his audience was composed of members of

the upper classes or the nobility. The scribe fulfilled the author-function in these books

in a number of ways: he collected texts, often altering and occasionally translating them;

he arranged how they should appear on the page; and he ordered them within each

manuscript. Some texts, such as Fouke le Fitz Waryn, are unique, but it does seem likely

that this prose version was created by the scribe from the lost verse version. Thus, a determination of where along the author-copyist continuum this scribe lies is difficult and

a matter of variation. Finally, looking beyond these specific manuscripts, there seems to be a certain amount of parallelism between the scribe’s works and some found in the

Auchinleck manuscript, a book comprised largely of English romances and copied in

London ca. 1340.

The Scribe and His Books

Three manuscripts and many legal writs containing the scribe’s handwriting

remain with us today, and we are therefore able to determine when the scribe copied the

texts that appear in these three books. The books, however, were not copied sequentially:

there is a certain amount of overlap in the dates of their copying. This overlap means that

the scribe did not simply gather together everything he had acquired or copied to date

into the same book, but that he—or in the case of Harley 2253, possibly a patron—

decided what should be included in a particular book. In this concluding chapter, I will

assess these three books and the purpose of each.

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British Library MS Harley 273

Harley 273 was probably compiled first of the three manuscripts. It contains the earliest examples of the scribe’s writing among the books and ends with the earliest handwriting of the three, dated approximately 1314 to 1329 (Revard, “Scribe” 58). The contents, both collected and copied by the scribe, are almost entirely in Anglo-Norman

French with a few items in Latin and only one, a charm against bleeding, in both Middle

English and French (Walpole 30). This last, the scribe’s earliest use of English in this manuscript, is found on folio 112v and is dated by Revard to “a period later than 1316 . . . perhaps a bit later than [1317–21]” (“Scribe” 68). Harley 273 contains very few items in the scribe’s hand. In about 1314 or 1315, the scribe took an incomplete copy of William of Waddington’s Manuel des péchés, copied the rest of the text, added “a neat tabular schema . . . of the venial and mortal sins involving swearing,” and copied most of the

Purgatoire s. Patrice (Revard, “Scribe” 58, 67). The Manuel des péchés, in Anglo-

Norman verse, begins on folio 113r of the manuscript; the scribe copied the final parts on folios 181v–191v, adding the schema on 190v, the Purgatoire s. Patrice following on folios 191v–197v. Of the Purgatoire, he copied lines 1–372 and 551–858, while another scribe copied lines 373–550 (Revard, “Scribe” 67). The Ludlow scribe copied two prayers on folio 7r, ca. 1318–21; several charms on folio 85v, ca. 1317–21; and several on folio 112v “perhaps a bit later.” Apart from these, the scribe made miscellaneous annotations to the manuscript over a number of years (Revard, “Scribe” 68).

Since the scribe’s legal work has been dated from 1314 to as late as 1349, the earliest items in Harley 273 would seem to have been copied by the scribe near the

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beginning of his career (Revard, “Scribe” 21). This being the case, he likely felt the need

to gather useful texts, adding to those he had acquired in the days of his clerical training.

Revard argues that the combination of “devotional, penitential, and administrative”

articles found throughout the manuscript suggests “that this was a book for a secular

rather than a regular cleric, and the collection of these items suggests the book’s being

primarily for devotional and secondarily for professional administrative purposes of its compiler” (“Scribe” 69). The texts in this volume are indeed heavily weighted toward practical considerations: religious works that relate to the scribe’s vocation, as well as those that would be useful in a mundane sense, such as charms against bleeding and

Grosseteste’s rules for household management. There is very little here that is meant specifically to delight or to entertain the reader; those texts will be included in his two later books. Revard convincingly explains his theory concerning the inclusion of the

Purgatoire s. Patrice, a work closely tied to the Manuel des péchés. The Manuel “is for parish chaplains and priests who will use it to teach doctrine and to preach homilies about sins and how to avoid them, and the consequences of sins.” In this relation, the list of sins concerning swearing is useful. The Purgatoire that follows shows what the afterlife might be like for those who sin (Revard, personal communication, June 16, 2007). Here,

the scribe is a young man gathering the tools he will use as he begins his career. Harley

273, then, is a book copied over a period of about fifteen years, of use to the scribe for his

private life and his work as a cleric, both for his own devotional purposes and for

preaching and hearing confessions.

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British Library MS Royal 12.C.XII

Whereas Harley 273 is the book the scribe used for devotional and professional purposes, Royal 12.C.XII is usually considered to have been his commonplace book, containing a variety of works, mostly practical, but some literary, primarily for everyday use. This is a book designed to appeal to more general interests than does Harley 273.

According to Revard, the scribe’s hand dates from approximately 1316–40 in this book

(“Scribe” 58). Thirty of the thirty-six articles are in the scribe’s hand (Ker xx). Only three items are in Middle English: the Short Metrical Chronicle, part of a group of macaronic satirical verses, and a charm that has been inserted into the manuscript, this last in a later hand (Ker xviii). The rest of the items are in Anglo-Norman French and

Medieval Latin. Of particular interest is the scribe’s copying of the Short Metrical

Chronicle, on folios 62r–68v, ca. 1316. Besides being one of only two items in English copied into the manuscript by the scribe, it is the earliest in his hand. The other article of interest is the Anglo-Norman romance of Fouke le Fitz Waryn on folios 33r–60v, copied in two parts, ca. 1325–27 and ca. 1333–35 (Revard, “Scribe” 70, 60–61).

Royal 12.C.XII contains a variety of materials that could be used primarily outside the church for both teaching and for personal study by the compiler. Here, the scribe did not so much distance himself from the materials of Harley 273 as expand his collection in several directions in his second book. E. J. Hathaway et al. state that “the compiler might have been a tutor in a great baronial household before seeking ecclesiastical preferment; his collection is full of serious, semi-scientific interests, schoolroom history, and devotion to the Church” (xliii–xliv). True, the scribe might have

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copied and collected works for use in teaching, but perhaps he himself developed an interest in new subjects, or he found himself with leisure time and decided to indulge in texts that he found entertaining. Knowledge of these works could have made him more socially desirable; he might, moreover, have determined to make himself popular among the more literate, educated, or affluent members of his community. Revard points to the scribe’s interests in history, religion, politics, prophecy, courtesy literature, devotional items, mathematical puzzles, and cookery recipes, claiming that he was a “member of a household to which his knowledge of these might be useful” (“Scribe” 73). This manuscript certainly shows a wider range of interests than does Harley 273.

British Library MS Harley 2253

Harley 2253 is, even more than Royal 12.C.XII, a collection of works in many genres. As has been discussed previously, the manuscript contains a tremendous variety of material, from sacred to secular, from affective lyrics on the Virgin to ribald fabliaux.

Continuing the two trends touched upon in the descriptions of the two earlier manuscripts, this book contains far more articles copied by the scribe himself and more works in English than either of the others. The earlier part of the manuscript containing devotional works in French was copied by an earlier scribe in the late thirteenth century; the Ludlow scribe copied folios 49r–140v, while a third scribe later made one very minor addition on folio 52v (Ker xvi, xviii). Our scribe did not, then, simply fill in empty spaces as he found them in quires, nor did he merely add a quire or two, as well as annotations, as he did in the previous two manuscripts. Here, he copied large numbers of works, compiling the book as he saw fit. Although the manuscript is predominantly in

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Anglo-Norman French, it contains Latin prose as well as a large number of lyrics in both

French and Middle English, and the English text of the romance King Horn (folios 83r–

92v). The great majority of the Ludlow scribe’s works in Harley 2253 were copied ca.

1340–42 (Revard, “Scribe” 62).

Since the scribe’s copying of Harley 2253 took place in a fairly short period of

time, as compared with his other two manuscripts, he might have been copying not for

himself, but for another party. Whereas the other two manuscripts were copied over

periods of approximately fifteen and twenty-five years, this one was copied, for the most

part, over a period of only two years and contains many more texts in his hand. The

speed with which he copied the works contained in this manuscript, as compared with the

others, appears to indicate some need for urgency. The scribe seemingly owned the two

earlier manuscripts, while he may have copied this one on commission, or perhaps as a

gift. If he were working for a commission or preparing a gift for a special event, he

would probably be working under a time constraint. It is also possible that a large

number of literary works came into his hands for a limited period of time, so he quickly

copied them while they were available. Finally, it is possible that such a compilation as

Harley 2253 had been a long-term goal, and he finally took the time to accomplish it,

perhaps reasoning that if he tarried, he might not live to finish it.1 The fact that he was

able to obtain so very many texts, many of them of high literary quality, within this relatively short period of time suggests that either he, or more likely his patron, had very good connections for borrowing manuscripts.

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Harley 2253 was, I argue, intended to serve as a one-volume library for a well-to-

do family in or near Ludlow, where the scribe spent his career and presumably much of

his life. It is possible that a patron told the scribe what to copy, perhaps supplying him with the requisite exemplars. Far more plausible is the theory that the patron told the scribe in general terms what he (or she) wanted—a wide-ranging miscellany in three languages—leaving the precise details up to the scribe. It happened this way, I argue, because the subjects of Harley 2253 are those already seen in the scribe’s two earlier books. (These subjects will be discussed in the next section of this chapter.) Although some are new (the fabliaux, for instance), the reader can see the thread of the scribe’s logic tying these three manuscripts together. The first two manuscripts are fairly narrowly focused, while the third has a much broader scope. The patron perhaps had his people obtain manuscripts in the course of their travels. We know that the scribe copied legal documents in and near Ludlow, but it is also possible that he himself traveled, collecting manuscripts along the way. Another possibility is that a large number of manuscripts passed through Ludlow during this period, and that the scribe had a good local source. Once he had the texts in hand, the scribe then went through these leaves, booklets, and manuscripts, gleaning what he thought suitable and copying it for use in the projected volume. To the availability and acquisition of exemplars and to the scribe’s often exquisite taste, we owe the creation of this, one of the greatest medieval manuscripts of England.

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Common Elements and Major Topics of the Four Romances

Through the study of four romances found in these three manuscripts, certain

recurring ideas have become evident. First, I will discuss the romance elements, and then

I will present the subjects of law, history, politics, and science.

Romance Elements

As one would expect, a number of traditional romance themes and elements

appear in these romances. The protagonists are noble, most participate in quests, and

they exhibit correct behavior. Their stories often include sea voyages, disguises, fights

with giants, and courtliness. Love plays but a minor role in these texts.

The protagonists possess the characteristics of romance heroes. In all four cases,

they are noble: Owein in the Purgatoire s. Patrice is a knight; the Short Metrical

Chronicle has no one protagonist, but tells of kings; Fouke le Fitz Waryn is a nobleman

and a knight; and King Horn is a fictional king and a knight. Three of the four participate

in quests. While Owein strives single-mindedly in the Purgatoire to reach the earthly

paradise and gain remission of his sins, both Fouke le Fitz Waryn and King Horn take a

more circuitous route to success. These two are unjustly deprived of their property by

evil kings, then over a period of years gradually gain experience and allies that help them

to regain their rightful places in society. In these same three romances, the protagonists

exhibit right behavior, conquering evil and striving as Christians to behave justly. In the

Short Metrical Chronicle, some kings behave well while others do not. Overall, the four romances show that protagonists with honorable goals, who behave as Christians and as

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noblemen, eventually succeed in their quests; in the long run, goodness prevails over evil,

and evil-doers are punished.

The stories themselves often contain romance elements. Both Fouke le Fitz

Waryn and King Horn include numerous sea voyages; the latter has the young Horn being set adrift in the standard boat of romance with neither rudder nor sail. Fouke travels to

escape England when his enemy is hot on his trail or when he and his men need time to

recover their strength. For them, the sea and foreign shores provide sanctuary. For Horn,

the sea separates his three fields of action: Sudenne, Westnesse, and Ireland. He is

unjustly exiled from the first two, gaining a lasting ally in the third who eventually assists

him in assuming his rightful place in the first and regaining his reputation while acquiring

a noble wife in the second. Both romances also include several instances of the

successful use of disguises. In Fouke the protagonist dons a monk’s robe in order to

throw his pursuers off his scent. Another time he changes clothes with a charcoal-burner

in order to lead King John into a trap. His multi-talented accomplice Johan de

Rampaigne disguises himself several times in order to infiltrate the enemy’s strongholds,

once to learn King John’s plans, and later in order to rescue another of Fouke’s men.

Horn disguises himself twice to penetrate into enemy territory and rescue Rimnild: once

as a palmer and once as a minstrel. Three of the romances contain fights with giants.

The Short Metrical Chronicle begins with the conquest of England by Brut, including

Corineus’s victory over the giant Geomagog. At the beginning of Fouke le Fitz Waryn,

the protagonist’s ancestor Payn Peverel is called upon by William the Conqueror to fight

Geomagog, whose body is now animated by a demon. Payn Peverel wins, and

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presumably both the giant’s spirit and his body are definitively defeated. In King Horn, the protagonist is offered the opportunity to be one of three knights to fight a giant. He refuses, insisting that the only fair fight is one Christian against one giant. He, of course, wins the battle.

Both Fouke le Fitz Waryn and King Horn contain elements of courtliness, but in this they do not begin to approach the typical Anglo-Norman romances. Although Fouke and his men spend much of their time on the run as outlaws, Fouke himself has been raised partly in the King’s household. He behaves as one should at court, and when he later finds himself at the court of the French king, he is immediately accepted as an aristocrat and quickly becomes a favorite. The Archbishop of Canterbury has such high regard for him that, even though Fouke is living in the forest, the Archbishop calls him to

Canterbury and asks him to marry his newly-widowed sister-in law, the heiress Mahaud de Caus. Fouke gallantly (and, perhaps with a thought of her property) agrees. Horn, also, quickly becomes a favorite in both his adopted lands of Westnesse and Ireland. He is well-spoken, polite, and handsome. These romances lack the elaborate descriptions of meals and clothing that are so common in Anglo-Norman romances; they contain, rather, a certain type of behavior that might better be described as knightly.

One of the major characteristics of French romances, in particular, is the protagonist’s love interest; it is the lady who inspires her love to perform great and noble acts in her name. In the scribe’s romances, we see very little of this, however. There is no love interest in the Purgatoire s. Patrice, and women are rarely mentioned in the Short

Metrical Chronicle. Fouke marries Mahaud de Caus, but this seems to be a marriage of

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convenience to keep her out of the hands of King John. Although this lady is supposedly both rich and beautiful, she is never physically described; she spends little time with her

husband; and she rarely seems to enter the thoughts of her spouse. Love seems to be

irrelevant. In the Harley 2253 version of King Horn, as we have seen in Chapter Six, the

scribe is at pains to emphasize courtly behavior in the courtship scenes of the protagonist

and Rimnild. Whereas the other versions have her throwing herself at him, here she is

the more refined, proper, and modest maiden, although she is still the aggressor in the

couple’s courtship. Horn agrees to marry her, it seems, not out of love, but out of horror

at the fact that she has just fainted at his refusal to do so. Gradually throughout the story

he begins to love her, thinking of her in battle, but it is always she who expresses the

strongest feelings of love. King Horn is the only one of the four romances to have

anything like a true love interest, and even this is far from traditional.

Subjects of Law, History, Politics, and Science

Among the thematic threads common to several of these romances are those of

law, history, politics, and science. The actual history and science contained within these

works is often combined with fiction; at times it is difficult to separate the two. Politics

is closely tied to history, as is law. The scribe was, as will be remembered, a legal

scribe—and perhaps this was his predominant way of earning a living. He was both

knowledgeable and interested in legal issues, so it is logical that the law should play a

prominent role in the texts he chose to include in his books.

The importance of the law and the necessity of following rules are emphasized in

the romances. Laws are created to maintain the civility and the justice of society.

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Anyone who breaks the law should be punished, and all, even the highest in the land, are

subject to the same laws. In the Purgatoire there is a list of requirements that must be

fulfilled and rules that must be followed before a petitioner is permitted to enter St.

Patrick’s Purgatory. These rules serve to protect those who would try the adventure,

assuring that they are absolutely certain that they know what is involved and that they are

ready. In the fourth field of torment, the scribe has altered the text, specifying that

neither high nor low, neither cleric nor layperson is spared the torture, but that all are

equal. On a higher level, the Purgatoire concerns the necessity of following God’s law.

The Chronicle deals fleetingly with law and justice, most notably in the affairs of Simon

de Monfort and Piers Gaveston. King John breaks the agreement he has with his vassals

in Fouke le Fitz Waryn. The King acts unjustly toward Fouke, who has no choice but to

renounce his fealty to the king and to become an outlaw. Eventually Fouke forces the king to behave correctly and justly, at which point both return to their appointed relative positions within society. In both the Chronicle and Fouke, when the king is either misled

or wrong, it is the duty of his barons to set things right. In King Horn, the rightful king of

Sudenne is slain by invaders, so law and justice are on Horn’s side as he attempts to

retake his hereditary lands.

A fascination with history is apparent to some extent in each these four romances.

Besides the scribe’s own continuing interest (these texts were copied over a period of nearly thirty years), there was apparently a widespread taste for history among the reading public. The Purgatoire s. Patrice begins with a brief account of St. Patrick, an actual person, and carries on with what purports to be a true account of Owein’s trip to

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purgatory. Interestingly, as I commented in Chapter Three, it is unclear whether the original Latin version of this story or the actual site of St. Patrick’s Purgatory came first.

In any case, there now exists, perhaps because of the romance, a physical location where the story supposedly took place. In other words, fiction might have influenced history.

The Short Metrical Chronicle is by definition a type of historical account, although parts of it, particularly the older parts, are legend rather than history. The lost original version of Fouke le Fitz Waryn was presumably written when the events of much of the romance

were recent history. The earliest parts of the story, like those of the Chronicle, are to an extent legendary. The life of Fouke le Fitz Waryn was greatly embellished and elements were added so that many scholars over the years have struggled to disentangle the truth from the fiction. King Horn is pure fiction, but there are suggestions of history contained within it. Scholars have attempted to identify the various locations named in the romance, as well as some of the characters, and the Saracen invasions of Sudenne are

taken to be based on the Viking attacks on England that were common in the early

medieval period. The Purgatoire survives in many manuscripts in three languages. The

Chronicle, along with a number of other chronicles and the Brut, also exists in many manuscripts and several languages. Although Fouke survives in only one manuscript, the sense of local history is so pervasive that even today, a number of the inhabitants of

Ludlow, while not knowing the entire story, are familiar with its general outline.2

Finally, King Horn survives as one of four types of stories concerning Horn in English and Anglo-Norman, popular in England and Scotland, some of which continued to be

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recited into the nineteenth century.3 The public apparently wanted histories, and the scribe, whose interest coincided, willingly obliged.

Along with history and law, politics are important in different ways to these romances. Within three of them—the Chronicle, Fouke, and Horn—international events figure prominently. We also see that good kings and nobles deserve the loyalty of their people, while the bad deserve to be punished or otherwise corrected. In the Chronicle, the continuity of the English monarchy is emphasized time and again, often with dead kings being buried at Westminster, a practice adding to the tradition of the succession and perhaps partly serving to justify it. In both the Chronicle and Fouke, English history begins with the conquest of the island by Brutus of Troy, son of Aeneas. The Chronicle continues the lineage of the kings of England through legendary as well as historical rulers. This translatio imperii in essence proves legally that the kings of England are derived from the most noble of bloodlines and that they are warranted in ruling the country.

Perhaps the most important aspect of politics, however, is tied very closely to the language and class-based history of the time. During the scribe’s lifetime, the Anglo-

Normans comprised the most powerful nobility of England, while the native English tended to have less power and to belong to the lower classes. These positions were reflected in the languages used in England: the Church of course used Latin, while those in power often spoke Anglo-Norman, and the others English. There was a good deal of linguistic crossover, however. Anglo-Normans learned English in order to be understood by the more numerous English speakers, while anglophones with social aspirations

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learned French. During the scribe’s lifetime this balance was changing, and English would eventually hold sway as the common language of England. Two of these romances (the Purgatoire and Fouke) were copied in Anglo-Norman, while two are in

English (the Chronicle and Horn). Both of the English-language works, however, in the scribe’s versions show a strong Anglo-Norman bias in their content that is lacking in the other versions that survive. In the Chronicle, as we have seen in Chapter Four, William the Conqueror is praised, while the other versions condemn him for killing Harald. Also in the Chronicle, the evil deeds of the Anglo-Norman King John are omitted.4 King Horn was evidently influenced by the Anglo-Norman version of the Horn story, the Romance of Horn. As was discussed in Chapter Six, the scribe on several occasions employs the names from the Anglo-Norman romance rather than those in the English versions. In addition, his version is more courtly than the other English versions. It contains nothing like the extensive and elaborate courtliness of the Romance of Horn, but neither is it as stark as the other English versions. The scribe’s work exhibits a definite Anglo-Norman bias: he copied more works in French than in English, his versions of works treat Anglo-

Norman leaders more kindly than those of his fellow scribes, and his English King Horn, at least, was obviously influenced by the French version of the story.

The scribe also exhibits an interest in science. Both the Purgatoire s. Patrice and the Short Metrical Chronicle include scientific or pseudoscientific detail, often involving lists. The mechanism involved in and the operation of the wheels of torture in the

Purgatoire are described in far greater detail than in any of the other versions. Another torture involves a geyser of flame carrying victims high into the air; only the scribe’s

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version gives the height of the flame. In the “bathhouse” torture, the scribe’s version

individually lists the boiling metals in which the victims are forced to stand or to insert portions of their bodies. When Owein reaches the door to the earthy paradise, we read a list of the precious gems that decorate the door. Both these lists are unique among the

Latin and Anglo-Norman versions of the story, although, as we have seen, they appear in later English versions. A scientific interest in hot baths also figures in the Chronicle.

Here, we have a lengthy description of how King Bladud, a necromancer, creates the baths of Bath, including a list of the chemicals he uses to keep the fires hot.

The Extraordinary Case of the Short Metrical Chronicle and Fouke le Fitz Waryn

At first the Short Metrical Chronicle and Fouke le Fitz Waryn appear to be almost completely different except for some of the common elements discussed above and the fact that they are both found in the same manuscript. Such is not the case, however.

These two romances have several more specific elements in common that do not appear in the other two romances. These include points of history, Arthurian references, wrestling, and oddly, references to the same port town in Scotland.

Both the Chronicle and Fouke include the founding of England by Brut and mention of William the Conqueror and the next several kings who followed him. These

correspondences might be expected, considering that the Chronicle purports to be a

historical document and that Fouke is based to an extent on historical events. The

Chronicle begins with a detailed passage of the arrival of Brut in England and his

conquest of that country, ending with single combat between his champion Corineus and

the king of the giants, Geomagog (O’Farrell-Tate 1–90). Near the beginning of Fouke, a

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Briton recounts this same tale to William the Conqueror, adding that the giant’s body is now possessed by a demon, and no one dares live nearby (Hathaway et al. 4–5). One of

William’s men, Payn Peverel, fights the demon-possessed Geomagog, finally winning the battle. Payn is rewarded with a gift of land, as was Corineus (Hathaway et al. 5–7). The parallel between the two texts is plain: the giant, both in his natural state and demonically enhanced, is defeated in each case by a good man who serves a great conqueror-king. In each case, the giant is defeated on behalf of the king, resulting in the possession of the land by that king, who gives part of it to his champion in gratitude. Each king decisively and legitimately wins England, and each goes on to found a great dynasty. Although it is obviously England that William conquers, the Chronicle also makes this point: whereas

Britain is named only three times throughout the work, England is named thirty times.

This repeated detail, then, is an indication that the inhabitants of the island are tending to think of themselves more as English than as Britons. William is also discussed in the

Chronicle, where he is praised in only this version. In both this version of the Chronicle and in Fouke, William is regarded as a good and honorable king, suggesting Anglo-

Norman bias. The Chronicle then lists the next two kings of England: “After his

[William I’s] endyng / Reignede William þe rede kyng” (O’Farrell-Tate 920–21), and

“Seþe reignede an oþer, / Henry ys oune broþer” (936–37). This compares with Fouke:

“Pus reigna en Engletere William le Rous, son fitz, e aprés ly Henri, son puysné frere”

[Then in England reigned William the Red, his son, and after him, Henry, his younger brother] (Hathaway et al. 7). The similarities in this case are striking. The effect is to

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liken William I to Brut, thus ennobling him by connecting him to the ancient race of

Troy, and making of him a semi-legendary hero.

Both romances reference King Arthur. The Chronicle includes a lengthy passage

on King Arthur, including his attempted conquest of Rome and mention of Mordred and

Guenevere (O’Farrell-Tate 261–306). In Fouke the reference is to Kay, Arthur’s

seneschal. When Dynan falls into enemy hands, the displaced defenders establish a base

of operations in the ruined Chastel Key, which had belonged to Kay and lain uninhabited

for one hundred years. The castle is located in “Keyenhom,” present-day Caynham, near

Ludlow, site of Dynan Castle (Hathaway et al. 18).

Wrestling is not one of the traditional knightly skills, yet it holds a prominent place in both romances. In both, Corineus’s battle with Geomagog is a wrestling match, while in Fouke, seven villainous “shepherds” challenge Fouke’s men to chess matches.

All but Fouke accept, and all lose. Fouke is offered the choice of a chess game or a wrestling match; he refuses both, instead drawing his sword and attacking. He is joined by his men and soon all the shepherds are dead (Hathaway et al. 43–44). Wrestling is a sport of the lower classes and, presumably, of pagans, as we see it in the battle of

Corineus and the giant. This wrestling match continues for many hours until Brut taunts

Corineus, telling him that Corineus would be shamed if people—and particularly his lady—heard that he could not easily win. This comment gives Corineus the energy he needs to win the battle (O’Farrell-Tate 57–84). Although this story takes place in the pagan days of England, Corineus is anachronistically inspired by knightly thoughts, by

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the romantic idea of his lady. Fouke refuses to wrestle with the shepherd because

wrestling is below him, since he is a knight. Knights fight with swords; peasants wrestle.

Most interestingly of all, both romances mention a port town on the Scottish

coast. In the Chronicle, we read that King Eboras built York, Dumbarton, Edinburgh

Castle, “Ant Mound de le Rous he made also” (O’Farrell-Tate 139–46). Una O’Farrell-

Tate identifies this as “Montrose Castle, Forfar” (133), which is logical, since

Dumbarton, Edinburgh, and Montrose are all in Scotland. One of the more colorful

characters in Fouke is “Mador del Mont de Russie.” Mador was born in Mont de Russie,

and he, as well as his family for many generations, have been men of the sea (Hathaway

et al. 41–42). Although Hathaway et al. do not attempt to identify this location, I argue

that it is the same as “Mound de le Rous” or Montrose. Montrose (known before the

twelfth century as Alt Munross [Old Montrose]) is found on the east coast of Scotland, at

the mouth of the South Esk river in Angus (Fraser 26). In the thirteenth century it had “a

good harbor, a trading monopoly and merchants with a will to become tycoons,” although

at the time, it “probably still had less than five hundred inhabitants” (Fraser 35–36). In

1296, Edward I of England spent four days in Montrose, staying at a “chastel” that could

either have been the royal castle, then “growing old” or at the “hall house of the Norman

Baron of Rossy” (Fraser 38).5 The name of the barony could easily have metamorphosed

from “Rossy” into “Russie,” a French-sounding name meaning “Russia” in modern

French.

The similarities common to these romances range from perhaps the purely circumstantial (William I and his sons, Arthur and Kay, wrestling) to the extremely

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evocative mention of Montrose. Could there be a connection between the Chronicle and

Fouke beyond the fact that they were both copied in the same manuscript, Royal 12.C.xii, by the Ludlow scribe? I argue that this is so. On the surface there appears to be no such connection. After all, the Chronicle was copied ca. 1316, it is in English verse, and it is very brief, only about 1050 lines. Fouke, however, was copied ca. 1325–35 in French prose, and it is lengthy, many times the length of the Chronicle. Digging deeper, one discovers that these differences are not as solid as they at first appear. The Chronicle is conjectured to be based on a lost original whose historical account probably ended in

1307 (Kennedy 2622). Scholars declare that this original was an Anglo-Norman metrical version (Legge, “The Brut Abridged” 33, O’Farrell-Tate 16). Thorlac Turville-Petre argues that the author of the Chronicle originally intended “to write something rather longer” based on the length of the Brut episode at the beginning (108–09). Fouke, also, likely derived from an Anglo-Norman verse original, composed about 1260 (Brandin,

“Nouvelles” 43, 37). In sum, then, we have two works based on Anglo-Norman verse originals, one long and the other perhaps originally intended to be so. Although the

Chronicle was copied by the scribe ten to twenty years before he copied Fouke, the hypothetical originals were composed in reverse order: Fouke ca. 1260; the Chronicle in or shortly after 1307. It is unlikely in the extreme that the same author wrote both, but it is possible that the authors of both works used similar sources for historical information, or that, in the case of Montrose, the Chronicle author needed a Scottish location, remembered reading of the place in the original Anglo-Norman Fouke, recognized it as

such, and wrote it into his work. This is, of course, conjecture. We do not have the

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Anglo-Norman original of Fouke, and Leland’s version, although it does mention the

mariner, only mentions him in the part of the romance that was translated from the later

English version. We do not know whether or not the mariner existed in the original version. It is possible that it was the Ludlow scribe who added the Montrose connection to the tale, perhaps using information he remembered from the Chronicle he had copied some years previously. The problem with this is that Fouke contains more information

than does the Chronicle. The Chronicle only gives the town’s name, while Fouke

indicates that it is the hometown of a mariner, so most likely a port. The reference in

Fouke, then, gives more information than that found in the Chronicle. This argues against the scribe having come across the name in the Chronicle and inserted it into his version of Fouke le Fitz Waryn. Again, I suggest that it is more likely that the two works have some common source than that the scribe was responsible for making this connection.

The Influence of the Ludlow Scribe

The scribe not only copied works, but collected and arranged them. He was a

talented compiler with a sophisticated literary eye and a taste for narrative. His work

reflects contemporary interests also evident in the Auchinleck manuscript. These works

were of interest to a certain type of reader common to some extent to both the scribe’s

audience and that of the Auchinleck. Although the scribe’s books lack the immense

number of romances found in the Auchinleck manuscript, the man compiled many

smaller narratives, particularly in Harley 2253, emphasizing such topics as history,

politics, and the law.

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Relationship of the Romances to the Auchinleck Manuscript

Although the four romances discussed in this dissertation were copied over a period of time from ca. 1314 to ca. 1342 in Anglo-Norman and in English, and the

Auchinleck manuscript is dated approximately 1330–40, notably with its contents virtually all in English, there are, nevertheless, certain similarities between them. Fouke le Fitz Waryn is unique, surviving only in the scribe’s work, but the other three romances exist in versions in both the scribe’s work and in the Auchinleck manuscript.

The Purgatoire s. Patrice, in Anglo-Norman in Harley 273 (ca. 1314–15), is known as “Owayne Miles” in the English-language Auchinleck. Both versions are in verse, though in different metres. As was pointed out in Chapter Three, the scribe’s version of the romance was the first to omit the monastic material, a practice continued in later English versions, including that found in the Auchinleck. A more telling connection, however, lies in the list of boiling metals in purgatory and the list of gems decorating the door to the earthly paradise. These two lists are very similar between the two manuscripts. As I said in Chapter Three, it is possible, but unlikely, that the two works had a common source, since Harley is one of the oldest versions of the work. It is more likely that the Auchinleck lists were derived, directly or indirectly, from those found in Harley 273. Other than these particular instances, the two versions are not particularly close.

The Short Metrical Chronicle is found in English in both Harley 273 (ca. 1316) and in the Auchinleck, where the name Liber Regum Anglie is given at the end of the text. The scribe’s version is the oldest one surviving and is, according to Ewald Zettl, the

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only one directly related to the hypothetical original text (xxxiv–xxxvi). The Auchinleck

version, in contrast, is the longest by far of the surviving versions. At 2370 lines, it is

more than twice the length of the scribe’s version. It was, according to Zettl, composed ca. 1327–28 (xvi). Whereas the other versions tend to be similar in their exposition of facts and of miracles, the Auchinleck version is drastically different. Turville-Petre refers to “[t]he wild invention of the Auchinleck adapter” (109). With its many lengthy interpolations, it is beyond a doubt the most “romantic” of the surviving versions of the

Chronicle (Turville-Petre 111).

King Horn (ca. 1340–42) is found in English in Harley 2253, while a related version, Horn Childe, also in English and otherwise called Horn Childe and Maiden

Rimnild, appears uniquely in the Auchinleck. Horn Childe is, however, more closely related to the Anglo-Norman Romance of Horn than it is to King Horn (Ward 1:459;

Mills 44; Dunn and Byrnes 114; Child 191–92; Lumby xv). Although the scribes used different versions of the Horn story (the former complete and the latter limited to a much smaller portion of the tale), the presence of two versions in two manuscripts demonstrates that the story was popular in two widely separated parts of England at about at the same time.

Overall there are few direct connections between the scribe’s versions of the romances and those found in the Auchinleck. There is possibly a minor direct relationship between the Harley 273 version of the Purgatoire s. Patrice and Owayne

Miles as found in the Auchinleck manuscript. This relationship is probably limited to the two lists—one of metals and one of gems—but it might extend as well to the omission of

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all monastic material from the romances. Although there appear to be no other connections within these three romances, there is another characteristic that the scribe’s three romances (excluding Fouke) have in common with the three aforementioned romances in Auchinleck: although six scribes have been identified in connection with the

Auchinleck, all three of these romances were copied by the same one: Auchinleck’s

Scribe 1 (Auchinleck). This fact documents a second English scribe, ca. 1330–40, who copied variations of these three romances.

Harley 2253 and the Auchinleck manuscript are two of the most important medieval manuscripts of secular material copied in England before 1350. Three of the four romances copied by the Ludlow scribe in the scribe’s three books appear in some form in the Auchinleck manuscript, copied by the same Auchinleck scribe. Only the

Purgatoire s. Patrice shows any definite direct relationship textually to the romances as found in the Auchinleck. However, the fact that two compilers, the Ludlow scribe and the compiler of the Auchinleck manuscript, selected versions of the same works is intriguing. These works are found in only a handful of manuscripts, so it is even more striking that they appear repeatedly in works selected by the same two people, one in

Ludlow and the other in London. Overall, the Ludlow scribe’s versions of the romances are more consistently of high quality, while the Auchinleck’s version of the Chronicle, notably, is sometimes condemned because of its many overly imaginative interpolations.

The Scribe as a Collector of Narratives

Throughout the scribe’s works, there is a definite proclivity toward the narrative form, both in prose and in verse. Although many of these works involve secular subjects,

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some are of a religious nature. Many are historical narratives, while some are romances.

These narratives are found both in works he copied himself and in those he acquired and added to his books. To make the following discussion clearer, I have listed the relevant works in tabular form below. Table 1 gives the chronology of significant works in

Harley 273 and Royal 12.C.XII, including their language, format, location within the manuscript, and, where copied by the scribe, the date of his hand. Table 2 does the same for significant works found in Harley 2253, where all works but one were copied by the scribe ca. 1340–42.

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Table 1

Selected Romances and Narratives in Harley 273 and Royal 12.C.XII

Manuscript Item Name Language(s) Location Date of

Verse/Prose (folios) Scribe’s Hand

Harley 273 Purgatoire s. Patrice F V 191r–197r ca. 1314–15

Richard de Fournival: F P 70r–81r N/A

Bestiaire d’Amour

Pseudo-Turpin Chronicle F P 86r–102v N/A

Royal 12.C.XII Short Metrical Chronicle E V 62r–67r ca. 1316

Office in Honour of Thomas

of Lancaster L P 1r ca. 1322–27

Fouke le Fitz Waryn F P 33r–53r ca. 1325–27

53r–61v ca. 1333–35

Ami et Amile F P 69r–76v N/A

______

Source: Carter Revard, “Scribe and Provenance,” in Studies in the Harley Manuscript, ed.

Susanna Fein (Kalamazoo, MI, 2000), 21–109, 58, 60–61, 67, 70–71.

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Table 2

Selected Romances and Narratives in Harley 2253, Copied by the Scribe ca. 1340–42

(Except De martito sancti Wistani, copied ca. 1346-47)

Item No. Item Name Language(s) Location

Verse/Prose (folios)

18. Vita Sancti Ethelberti L P 53r–54v

21. The Harrowing of Hell E V 55v–56v

23. A Song of Lewes E V 58v–59r

24. Lament for Sir Simon de Montfort F V 59r–59v

25. The Execution of Sir Simon Fraser E V 59v–61v

32. Marina E V 64v–65v

37. Gilote et Johane F V 67v–68v

40. Satire on the Consistory Courts E V 70v

47. The Death of Edward I E V 73r–73v

48. The Flemish Insurrection E V 73v–74v

70. King Horn E V 83r–92v

75. Le Jongleur d’Ely et le Roi D’Angleterre F V 107v–109v

75a. Les Trois Dames qui trouverent un vit F V 110r–110v

80. Trailbaston F V 113v–114v

82. Le Chevalier et la corbaille F V 115v–117r

continued

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Item No. Item Name Language(s) Location

Verse/Prose (folios)

84. Le Dit de la gageure F V 118r–118v

87. Le Chevalier qui fist les cons parler F V 122v–124v

98. Legenda de sancto Etfrido presbitero de

Leominstria L P 132r–133r

114. Against the King’s Taxes F/L V 137v–138v

116. De martiro sancti Wistani L P 140v ______

Sources: Susanna Fein, “A Saint ‘Geynest under Gore’: Marina and the Love Lyrics of

the Seventh Quire,” in Studies in the Harley Manuscript: The Scribes, Contents,

and Social Contexts of British Library MS Harley 2253, ed. Susanna Fein

(Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 2000), 371–76.

Carter Revard, “Scribe and Provenance,” in Studies in the Harley Manuscript, ed.

Susanna Fein (Kalamazoo, MI, 2000), 62.

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A small number of narratives appear in Harley 273 and in Royal 12.C.XII, but this number grows greatly in Harley 2253. In Harley 273, a volume of predominantly religious and devotional works with some practical contents, the Purgatoire tells a religious adventure story. Likewise, the Pseudo-Turpin Chronicle is a popular story that purports to recount the tale of the Song of Roland from the point of view of Archbishop

Turpin. This romance offers a retelling of the familiar story of Charlemagne, protector of the faith, from the viewpoint of his faithful fighting archbishop. Lastly, Richard de

Fournival’s Bestiaire d’Amour is a peculiar hybrid work that combines the bestiary tradition of using animals to teach Christian morals with the courtly love tradition, the animals teaching love rather than morals. The other works logically belong in this volume, but the Bestiaire’s inclusion is something of a puzzle. It was perhaps collected because the bestiary is traditionally a Christian work, or because the scribe found the animal drawings attractive. Of these four texts, all are in Anglo-Norman, but only the

Purgatoire is in the scribe’s hand.

In Royal 12.C.XII, a book containing texts on a variety of subjects, besides the

Short Metrical Chronicle and Fouke le Fitz Waryn, there is the romance Ami et Amile, a story of friendship told in Anglo-Norman prose, as is Fouke, but not in the scribe’s hand.

The Office in Honour of Thomas of Lancaster, in Latin prose and at the very beginning of the manuscript, shows the scribe’s interest in history. Thomas, “beheaded in 1322 after a political insurrection, [is] widely regarded as a saint and martyr” (Hathaway et al. xlvii).

This work can also be connected with Fouke since Thomas, like Fouke, was considered to have been unjustly treated by his king.

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In Harley 2253 we have a great number of narratives, both religious and secular,

all in the scribe’s hand. There are saints’ lives concerning Ethelbert (d. 794), Marina (6th c.?), Etfrid (d. ca. 675), and Wistan (d. 849) (items 18, 32, 98, and 116).6 The Harrowing

of Hell (item 21), similar to the Anglo-Norman Purgatoire but in English verse, tells the story of Jesus Christ’s journey into hell, after His crucifixion, to take deserving souls to heaven. A Song of Lewes and Lament for Sir Simon de Montfort (items 23 and 24) both

praise Sir Simon de Montfort, who also appeared in the Chronicle, for his support of the

Provisions of Oxford. He was executed when the barons turned against him. The

Execution of Sir Simon Fraser (item 25) tells of the just execution of a Scot in 1306 for

failing to swear allegiance to the English king. The Death of Edward I and The Flemish

Insurrection (items 47 and 48) both also show the scribe’s interest in history and reveal

his political allegiances. The Death of Edward I is a lament, suggesting that the

compiler/scribe was an adherent of this king despite the rancor apparent in his text’s

condemnation of Gaveston, the royal favorite. Edward I visited Montrose, the Scottish

port mentioned in both the Chronicle and in Fouke le Fitz Waryn. The Flemish

Insurrection tells of the Flemings who at first welcomed French rule, then drove the

French forces out of their country in 1301–02. Trailbaston (item 80) tells of an outlaw

who, unlike Fouke, deserves his punishment. This narrative also demonstrates the

scribe’s interest in legal affairs as does his inclusion of Satire on the Consistory Courts

(item 40), the story of another legal case where the culprit is this time successfully

charged with fornication. In both Trailbaston and Satire on the Consistory Courts, the

convicted men loudly and unconvincingly protest their innocence. The French and Latin

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macaronic poem Against the King’s Taxes (item 114) protests the taxes on wool, a

political issue affecting the farmers and merchants of Ludlow. King Horn (item 70) is the work in this manuscript that is most like a traditional romance. Gilote et Johane (item

37) tells of an older woman who coaches the younger in love and in overcoming obstacles associated with it, thus leading her astray; then the two of them travel the country converting other women to their way of thinking. Finally, counterbalancing the four saints’ lives in Latin prose and English verse, we have five fabliaux in Anglo-

Norman verse. In what could also be viewed as a political statement, Le Jongleur d’Ely et le Roi d’Angleterre (item 75) concerns a jongleur who speaks what at first appears to be nonsense, but the king eventually comes to see that the jongleur gives him valuable advice. This is immediately followed in the manuscript by Les Trois Dames qui trouverent un vit (item 75a.), the story of three women who find a large vit—penis or prick—by the side of the road. They argue over it, finally asking an abbess to decide the case. The abbess confiscates their prize, seeing in it a bolt missing from the abbey’s front door. Le Chevalier et la corbaille (item 82) tells of a young man’s clever machinations to circumvent a watchful guardian and get into his lady’s chamber. The scientific detail of the basket being levered into a high window from the ground is reminiscent of the workings of the wheels of torment in the Purgatoire. Le Dit de la gageure (item 84) is the story of an obscene bet, while Le Chevalier qui fist les cons parler (item 87) tells of a

knight’s adventures after he is given the gift of making cunts and asses speak to him. The

fabliaux are related to romances in that they usually tell, not of love, but of lust in a

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shorter narrative form. These works in three manuscripts, from saints’ lives to fabliaux, show the vast range of the compiler’s collection.

Conclusions

The Ludlow scribe collected with several purposes in mind. He sought to educate his audience spiritually and pedagogically while providing occasional entertainment. He emphasized the readability of his texts, often selecting narratives in prose or verse, and sometimes pruning or lengthening to make the works more readable than other versions of the same texts.

The scribe collected or copied numerous edifying works in all three of his books.

These works cover a wide range of topics suitable for both religious instruction and private devotion, as well as for his own use as a confessor. Perhaps they helped him teach his readers and his charges—whether children he tutored, a household he served, or a congregation—the importance of morals, faith, and patience. Contained in these pages are prayers and religious lyrics as well as the more entertaining saints’ lives and the often exciting Purgatoire s. Patrice. The scribe worked to make his readers and his audience better Christians.

A large part of the three manuscripts is devoted to pedagogical topics. During the fourteenth century, the Prose Brut was a tremendous influence on society, but the scribe chose not to include this work in his collection. Instead, he used the Short Metrical

Chronicle, a more manageable, lighter version of history. Along with this text, however, he incorporated a large number of historical works, many of them concerned with politics and justice, demonstrating the good and bad behavior of the kings and other leaders cited

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therein. There is some emphasis on England as a nation, as evinced by the Chronicle’s repeated references to that name rather than to “Britain.” In some of the works there is an obvious Anglo-Norman bias, suggesting, along with the emphasis on history in general and the preponderance of texts in that language in particular, that these books were meant to serve the ruling class. In some of his works, he took special pains to explain the details clearly. This is perhaps due to his legal background or to his having attempted to put himself in the mind of a future reader. This propensity is particularly notable in several historical episodes recounted in the Chronicle, but it also appears in the detailed scientific and pseudo-scientific descriptions in several works.

Several of the works in these manuscripts are entertaining. Harley 273, as we have seen, is the most serious of the books. Fouke le Fitz Waryn in Royal has its amusing moments, but by far the greatest number of entertaining works is found in

Harley 2253, a book seemingly designed in large part to delight its readers. This is where the scribe copied the famous lyrics and the bawdy Anglo-Norman fabliaux. In King

Horn, the text leans toward romance, as do a number of the lyrics; some of the lyrics are tender or coy, while others are suggestive. Aside from these, the manuscripts also contain such useful and entertaining items as sortes, charms, and puzzles.

The scribe appears to have sought readability. Many of the texts are narratives, both sacred and secular, serious and amusing, in verse and in prose, in three languages— sometimes all three at once. Often in the case of the four romances detailed in this dissertation, the scribe’s version is the shortest or cleanest version. His version of the

Purgatoire, while the second-oldest in Anglo-Norman (after that of Marie de France), is

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the first in any language to omit all the monastic material and to concentrate on the plot:

the story of Owein’s journey through purgatory. This makes for a fast-moving, coherent

narrative that retains the moral even though it discards the cumbersome “religious”

material. The scribe’s Short Metrical Chronicle is the version most closely related to the

hypothetical original version of the text. It is notable for its precise dating of events and, in several places, its extended explanations. In addition, the scribe was so good at

“correcting” his text that it is often impossible to tell whether a passage is his or the author’s. To the scribe we also owe the unique surviving version of Fouke le Fitz Waryn,

a wonderfully well-written and entertaining story of justice prevailing against an erring

king. Although the work is long, it is never tedious, but keeps the reader’s interest

throughout. Finally, King Horn, although the latest of the complete versions, is more

generally logical and always more courtly than the others, verging—unlike them—on

true romance, containing both chivalric adventure and a crucial love interest.

The scribe was very selective, as we have seen, in his choice of texts and of

words, and although he was careful to lay out his manuscript pages geometrically and to

copy neatly, he was somewhat careless of adornment. His decoration of texts, for the

most part, is limited to “elongated letters touched with red at the top of each page,” as in

King Horn (Allen, King Horn 15). In the Chronicle, he has added two-line capitals in

red, but although he indicates where these letters should be, he neglects to add them all,

omitting scattered capitals throughout the text, but mainly near the end.7

The Ludlow scribe was an interesting man: cleric, scribe, redactor, collector,

compiler, and perhaps more. In his manuscripts he strove to present works that would

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instruct members of the ruling or perhaps merchant class of England to act according to

Christian rules of conduct, to behave justly and bravely, to teach them that they would be successful only by pursuing right. He realized, however, that his audience needed diversion as well as high aspirations. He included entertaining works of many kinds, from gentle humor to bawdy tales. The scribe was meticulous in his use of language and detail, adding, correcting, and explaining as he deemed necessary, while being rather careless of the manuscripts’ decoration. The manuscripts reflect what he apparently hoped to accomplish for his readers by means of these texts: he wanted his readers, like the manuscripts, to appear simply neat and well organized on the surface, but with their true adornment on the inside.

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Notes

1 For these last two suggestions, I am grateful to my husband, Brian Rock.

2 During my visit to Ludlow in July, 2007, I mentioned my interest in the romance to a number of people, many of whom then referred to part of the story, most often that of the tragic death of Marioun de la Bruyere.

3 Details of the four stories concerning Horn are found in Chapter 5 above. The last of

these, Hind Horn, was a folk song collected in nineteenth century Scotland by F. J. Child

and later published (201–07).

4 Later, however, he included John’s deeds in Fouke le Fitz Waryn.

5 William Wallace destroyed Montrose Castle several months later (Fraser 38, 41).

6 The numbering of the articles follows that of Fein, “A Saint” 371–76.

7 This detail is evident upon examination of the original manuscript, Royal 12.C.XII.

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