CHAPTER III.

_LATIN._

I.

The ties with France were close ones; those with Rome were no less so. William had come to England, politically as the heir of the Anglo-Saxon kings, and with regard to ecclesiastical affairs as the Pope's chosen, blessed by the head of Christianity. In both respects, notwithstanding storms and struggles, the tradition thus started was continued under his successors.

At no period of the history of England was the union with Rome closer, and at no time, not even in the Augustan Age of English literature was there a larger infusion of Latin ideas. The final consequence of Henry II.'s quarrel with Thomas Becket was a still more complete submission of this prince to the Roman See. John Lackland's fruitless attempts to reach absolute power resulted in the gift of his domains to St. Peter and the oath of fealty sworn by him as vassal of the Pope: "We, John, by the grace of God, king of England, lord of Ireland, duke of Normandy, earl of Anjou, ... Wishing to humiliate ourselves for Him who humiliated Himself for us even unto death ... freely offer and concede to God and to our lord Pope Innocent and his Catholic successors, all the kingdom of England and all the kingdom of Ireland for the remission of our sins,"[220] May 15, 1213.

From the day after Hastings the Church is seen establishing herself on firm basis in the country; she receives as many, and even more domains than the companions of the Conqueror. In the county of Dorset, for instance, it appears from Domesday that "the Church with her vassals and dependents enjoyed more than a third of the whole county, and that her patrimony was greater than that of all the Barons and greater feudalists combined."[221]

The religious foundations are innumerable, especially at the beginning; they decrease as the time of the Renaissance draws nearer. Four hundred and eighteen are counted from William Rufus to John, a period of one hundred years; one hundred and thirty-nine during the three following reigns: a hundred and eight years; twenty-three in the fourteenth century, and only three in the fifteenth.[222]

This number of monasteries necessitated considerable intercourse with Rome; many of the monks, often the abbots, were Italian or French; they had suits in the court of Rome, they laid before the Pope at Rome, and later at Avignon, their spiritual and temporal difficulties; the most important abbeys were "exempt," that is to say, under the direct jurisdiction of the Pope without passing through the local episcopal authority. This was the case with St. Augustine of Canterbury, St. Albans, St. Edmund's, Waltham, Evesham, Westminster, &c. The clergy of England had its eyes constantly turned Romewards.

This clergy was very numerous; in the thirteenth century its ranks were swelled by the arrival of the mendicant friars: Franciscans and Dominicans, the latter representing more especially doctrine, and the former practice. The Dominicans expound dogmas, fight heresy, and furnish the papacy with its Grand Inquisitors[223]; the Franciscans do charitable works, nurse lepers and wretches in the suburbs of the towns. All science that does not tend to the practice of charity is forbidden them: "Charles the Emperor," said St. Francis, "Roland and Oliver, all the paladins and men mighty in battle, have pursued the infidels to death, and won their memorable victories at the cost of much toil and labour. The holy martyrs died fighting for the faith of Christ. But there are in our time, people who by the mere telling of their deeds, seek honour and glory among men. There are also some among you who like better to preach on the virtues of the saints than to imitate their labours.... When thou shalt have a psalter so shalt thou wish for a breviary, and when thou shalt have a breviary, thou shalt sit in a chair like a great prelate, and say to thy brother: 'Brother, fetch me my breviary.'"[224]

Thirty-two years after their first coming there were in England twelve hundred and forty-two Franciscans, with forty-nine convents, divided into seven custodies: London, York, Cambridge, Bristol, Oxford, Newcastle, Worcester.[225] "Your Holiness must know," writes Robert Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln, to Pope Gregory IX., "that the friars illuminate the whole country by the light of their preaching and teaching. Intercourse with these holy men propagates scorn of the world and voluntary poverty.... Oh! could your Holiness see how piously and humbly the people hasten to hear from them the word of life, to confess their sins, and learn the rules of good conduct!..."[226] Such was the beginning; what followed was far from resembling it. The point to be remembered is another tie with Rome, represented by these new Orders: even the troubles that their disorders gave rise to later, their quarrels with the secular clergy, the monks and the University, the constant appeals to the Pope that were a result of these disputes, the obstinacy with which they endeavoured to form a Church within the Church, all tended to increase and multiply the relations between Rome and England.

The English clergy was not only numerous and largely endowed; it was also very influential, and played a considerable part in the policy of the State. When the Parliament was constituted the clergy occupied many seats, the king's ministers were usually churchmen; the high Chancellor was a prelate.

The action of the Latin Church made itself also felt on the nation by means of ecclesiastical tribunals, the powers of which were considerable; all that concerned clerks, or related to faith and beliefs, to tithes, to deeds and contracts having a moral character, wills for instance, came within the jurisdiction of the religious magistrate. This justice interfered in the private life of the citizens; it had an inquisitorial character; it wanted to know if good order reigned in households, if the husband was faithful and the wife virtuous; it cited adulterers to its bar and chastised them. Summoners (Chaucer's somnours) played the part of spies and public accusers; they kept themselves well informed on these different matters, were constantly on the watch, pried into houses, collected and were supposed to verify evil reports, and summoned before the ecclesiastical court those whom Jane's or Gilote's beauty had turned from the path of conjugal fidelity. It may be readily imagined that such an institution afforded full scope for abuses; it could hardly have been otherwise unless all the summoners had been saints, which they were not; some among them were known to compound with the guilty for money, to call the innocent before the judge in order to gratify personal spite.[227] Their misdeeds were well known but not easy to prove; so that Chaucer's satires did more to ruin the institution than all the petitions to Parliament. These summoners were also in their own way, mean as that was, representatives of the Latin country, of the spiritual power of Rome; they knew it, and made the best of the stray Latin words that had lodged in their memory; they used them as their shibboleth.

Bishops kept seigneurial retinues, built fortresses[228] and lived in them, had their archers and their dogs, hunted, laid siege to towns, made war, and only had recourse to excommunication when all other means of prevailing over their foes had failed. Others among them became saints: both in heaven and on earth they held the first rank. Like the sovereign, they knew, even then, the worth of public opinion; they bought the goodwill of wandering poets, as that of the press was bought in the day of Defoe. The itinerant minstrels were the newspapers of the period; they retailed the news and distributed praise or blame; they acquired over the common people the same influence that "printed matter" has had in more recent times. Hugh de Nunant, bishop of Coventry, accuses William de Longchamp, bishop of Ely, and Chancellor of England, in a letter still extant, of having inspired the verses--one might almost say the articles--that minstrels come from France, and paid by him, told in public places, "in plateis," not without effect, "for already, according to public opinion, no one in the universe was comparable to him."[229]

Nothing gives so vivid an impression of the time that has elapsed, and the transformation in manners that has occurred, as the sight of that religious and warlike tournament of which England was the field under Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and of which the heroes were all prelates, to wit: these same William de Longchamp, bishop of Ely, and Hugh de Nunant, bishop of Coventry; then Hugh de Puiset, bishop of Durham, Geoffrey Plantagenet, archbishop of York, &c.

Hugh de Puiset, a scion of the de Puisets, viscounts of Chartres, grandson of the Conqueror, cousin to King Richard, bishop palatine of Durham, wears the coat of mail, fortifies his castles, storms those of his enemies, builds ships, adds a beautiful "Lady chapel" to his cathedral, and spends the rest of his time in hunting.

William de Longchamp, his great rival, grandson of a Norman peasant, bishop of Ely, Chancellor of England, seizes on Lincoln by force, lives like a prince, has an escort of a thousand horsemen, adds to the fortifications of the Tower of London and stands a siege in it. He is obliged to give himself up to Hugh de Nunant, another bishop; he escapes disguised as a woman; he is recognised, imprisoned in a cellar, and exiled; he then excommunicates his enemies. Fortune smiles on him once more and he is reinstated in his functions.

Geoffrey Plantagenet, a natural son of Henry II., the only child who remained always faithful to the old king, had once thought he would reach the crown, but was obliged to content himself with becoming archbishop of York. As such, he scorned to ally himself either with Longchamp or with Puiset, and made war on both impartially. Longchamp forbids him to leave France; nevertheless Geoffrey lands at Dover, the castle of which was held by Richenda, sister of the Chancellor. He mounts on horseback and gallops towards the priory of St. Martin; Richenda sends after him, and one of the lady's men was putting his hand on the horse's bridle, when our lord the archbishop, shod with iron, gave a violent kick to the enemy's steed, and tore his belly open; the beast reared, and the prelate, freeing himself, reached the priory. There he is under watch for four days, after which he is dragged from the very altar, and taken to the castle of Dover. At last he is liberated, and installed in York; he immediately commences to fight with his own clergy; he enters the cathedral when vespers are half over; he interrupts the service, and begins it over again; the indignant treasurer has the tapers put out, and the archbishop continues his psalm-singing in the dark. He excommunicates his neighbour Hugh de Puiset, who is little concerned by it; he causes the chalices used by the bishop of Durham to be destroyed as profaned.

Hugh de Puiset, who was still riding about, though attacked by the disease that was finally to carry him off, dies full of years in 1195, after a _reign_ of forty-three years. He had had several children by different women: one of them, Henri de Puiset, joined the Crusade; another, Hugh, remained French, and became Chancellor to King Louis VII.[230]

These warlike habits are only attenuated by degrees. In 1323 Edward II. writes to Louis de Beaumont, bishop of Durham, reproaching a noble like him for not defending his bishopric any better against the Scotch than if he were a mutterer of prayers like his predecessor. Command is laid upon bishop Louis to take arms and go and camp on the frontier. In the second half of the same century, Henry le Despencer, bishop of Norwich, hacks the peasants to pieces, during the great rising, and makes war in Flanders for the benefit of one of the two popes.

Side by side with these warriors shine administrators, men of learning, saints, all important and influential personages in their way. Such are, for example, Lanfranc, of Pavia, late abbot of St. Stephen at Caen, who, as archbishop of Canterbury, reorganised the Church of England; Anselm of Aosta, late abbot of Bec, also an archbishop, canonised at the Renaissance, the discoverer of the famous "ontological" proof of the existence of God, a paradoxical proof the inanity of which it was reserved for St. Thomas Aquinas to demonstrate; Gilbert Foliot, a Frenchman, bishop of London, celebrated for his science, a strong supporter of Henry II.; Thomas Becket, of Norman descent, archbishop and saint, whose quarrel with Henry II. divided England, and almost divided Christendom too; Hugh, bishop of Lincoln under the same king, of French origin, and who was also canonised; Stephen Langton, archbishop of Canterbury, who contributed as much as any of the barons to the granting of the Great Charter, and presided over the Council of London, in 1218, where it was solemnly confirmed[231]; Robert Grosseteste,[232] famous for his learning and holiness, his theological treatises, his sermons, his commentaries on Boethius and Aristotle, his taste for the divine art of music, which according to him "drives away devils." Warriors or saints, all these leaders of men keep, in their difficulties, their eyes turned towards Rome, and towards the head of the Latin Church.

II.

At the same time as the monasteries, and under the shadow of their walls, schools and libraries multiplied. The Latin education of the nation is resumed with an energy and perseverance hitherto unknown, and this time there will be no relapse into ignorance; protected by the French conquest, the Latin conquest is now definitive.

Not only are religious books in Latin, psalters, missals and decretals copied and collected in monasteries, but also the ancient classics. They are liked, they are known by heart, quoted in writings, and even in conversation. An English chronicler of the twelfth century declares he would blush to compile annals after the fashion of the Anglo-Saxons; this barbarous manner is to be avoided; he will use Roman salt as a condiment: "et exarata barbarice romano sale condire."[233] Another, of the same period, has the classic ideal so much before his eyes that he makes William deliver, on the day of Hastings, a speech beginning: "O mortalium validissimi!"[234]

A prelate who had been the tutor of the heir to the throne, and died bishop palatine of Durham, Richard de Bury,[235] collects books with a passion equal to that which will be later displayed at the court of the Medici. He has emissaries who travel all over England, France, and Italy to secure manuscripts for him; with a book one can obtain anything from him; the abbot of St. Albans, as a propitiatory offering sends him a Terence, a Virgil, and a Quinctilian. His bedchamber is so encumbered with books that one can hardly move in it.[236] Towards the end of his life, never having had but one passion, he undertook to describe it, and, retired into his manor of Auckland, he wrote in Latin prose his "Philobiblon."[237] In this short treatise he defends books, Greek and Roman antiquity, poetry, too, with touching emotion; he is seized with indignation when he thinks of the crimes of high treason against manuscripts, daily committed by pupils who in spring dry flowers in their books; and of the ingratitude of wicked clerks, who admit into the library dogs, or falcons, or worse still, a two-legged animal, "bestia bipedalis," more dangerous "than the basilisk, or aspic," who, discovering the volumes "insufficiently concealed by the protecting web of a dead spider," condemns them to be sold, and converted for her own use into silken hoods and furred gowns.[238] Eve's descendants continue, thinks the bishop, to wrongfully meddle with the tree of knowledge.

What painful commiseration did he not experience on penetrating into an ill-kept convent library! "Then we ordered the book-presses, chests, and bags of the noble monasteries to be opened; and, astonished at beholding again the light of day, the volumes came out of their sepulchres and their prolonged sleep.... Some of them, which had ranked among the daintiest, lay for ever spoilt, in all the horror of decay, covered by filth left by the rats; they who had once been robed in purple and fine linen now lay on ashes, covered with a cilice."[239] The worthy bishop looks upon letters with a religious veneration, worthy of the ancients themselves; his enthusiasm recalls that of Cicero; no one at the Renaissance, not even the illustrious Bessarion, has praised old manuscripts with a more touching fervour, or more nearly attained to the eloquence of the great Latin orator when he speaks of books in his "Pro Archia": "Thanks to books," says the prelate, "the dead appear to me as though they still lived.... Everything decays and falls into dust, by the force of Time; Saturn is never weary of devouring his children, and the glory of the world would be buried in oblivion, had not God as a remedy conferred on mortal man the benefit of books.... Books are the masters that instruct us without rods or ferulas, without reprimands or anger, without the solemnity of the gown or the expense of lessons. Go to them, you will not find them asleep; question them, they will not refuse to answer; if you err, no scoldings on their part; if you are ignorant, no mocking laughter."[240]

These teachings and these examples bore fruit; in renovated England, Latin-speaking clerks swarmed. It is often difficult while reading their works to discover whether they are of native or of foreign extraction; hates with them are less strong than with the rest of their compatriots; most of them have studied not only in England but in Paris; science has made of them cosmopolitans; they belong, above all, to the Latin country, and the Latin country has not suffered.

The Latin country had two capitals, a religious capital which was Rome, and a literary capital which was Paris. "In the same manner as the city of Athens shone in former days as the mother of liberal arts and the nurse of philosophers, ... so in our times Paris has raised the standard of learning and civilisation, not only in France but in all the rest of Europe, and, as the mother of wisdom, she welcomes guests from all parts of the world, supplies all their wants, and submits them all to her pacific rule."[241] So said Bartholomew the Englishman in the thirteenth century. "What a flood of joy swept over my heart," wrote in the following century another Englishman, that same Richard de Bury, "every time I was able to visit that paradise of the world, Paris! My stay there always seemed brief to me, so great was my passion. There were libraries of perfume more delicious than caskets of spices, orchards of science ever green...."[242] The University of Paris held without contest the first rank during the Middle Ages; it counted among its students, kings, saints, popes, statesmen, poets, learned men of all sorts come from all countries, Italians like Dante, Englishmen like Stephen Langton.

Its lustre dates from the twelfth century. At that time a fusion took place between the theological school of Notre-Dame, where shone, towards the beginning of the century, Guillaume de Champeaux, and the schools of logic that Abelard's teaching gave birth to on St. Genevieve's Mount. This state of things was not created, but consecrated by Pope Innocent III., a former student at Paris, who by his bulls of 1208 and 1209 formed the masters and students into one association, _universitas_.[243]

According to a mediaeval custom, which has been perpetuated in the East, and is still found for instance at the great University of El Azhar at Cairo, the students were divided into nations: France, Normandy, Picardy, England. It was a division by races, and not by countries; the idea of mother countries politically divided being excluded, in theory at least, from the Latin realm. Thus the Italians were included in the French nation, and the Germans in the English one. Of all these foreigners the English were the most numerous; they had in Paris six colleges for theology alone.

The faculties were four in number: theology, law, medicine, arts. The latter, though least in rank, was the most important from the number of its pupils, and was a preparation for the others. The student of arts was about fifteen years of age; he passed a first degree called "determinance" or bachelorship; then a second one, the licence, after which, in a solemn ceremony termed _inceptio_, the corporation of masters invested him with the cap, the badge of mastership. He had then, according to his pledge, to dispute for forty successive days with every comer; then, still very youthful, and frequently beardless, he himself began to teach. A master who taught was called a Regent, _Magister regens_.

The principal schools were situated in the "rue du Fouarre" (straw, litter), "vico degli Strami," says Dante, a street that still exists under the same name, but the ancient houses of which are gradually disappearing. In this formerly dark and narrow street, surrounded by lanes with names carrying us far back into the past ("rue de la Parcheminerie," &c), the most illustrious masters taught, and the most singular disorders arose. The students come from the four corners of Europe without a farthing, having, in consequence, nothing to lose, and to whom ample privileges had been granted, did not shine by their discipline. Neither was the population of the quarter an exemplary one.[244] We gather from the royal ordinances that the rue du Fouarre, "vicus ultra parvum pontem, vocatus gallice la rue du Feurre," had to be closed at night by barriers and chains, because of individuals who had the wicked habit of establishing themselves at night, with their _ribaudes_, "mulieres immundae!" in the lecture-rooms, and leaving, on their departure, by way of a joke, the professor's chair covered with "horrible" filth. Far from feeling any awe, these evil-doers found, on the contrary, a special amusement in the idea of perpetrating their jokes in the _sanctum_ of philosophers, who, says the ordinance of the wise king Charles V., "should be clean and honest, and inhabit clean, decent, and honest places."[245]

Teaching, the principal object of which was logic, consisted in the reading and interpreting of such books as were considered authorities. "The method in expounding is always the same. The commentator discusses in a prologue some general questions relating to the work he is about to lecture upon, and he usually treats of its material, formal, final, and efficient causes. He points out the principal divisions, takes the first member of the division, subdivides it, divides the first member of this subdivision, and thus by a series of divisions, each being successively cleft into two, he reaches a division which only comprises the first chapter. He applies to each part of the work the same process as to its whole. He continues these divisions until he comes to having before him only one phrase including one single complete idea."

Another not less important part of the instruction given consisted in oratorical jousts; the masters disputed among themselves, and the pupils did likewise. In a time when paper was scarce and parchment precious, disputes replaced our written exercises. The weapons employed in these jousts were blunt ones; but as in real tournaments where "armes courtoises" were used, disputants were sometimes carried away by passion, and the result was a true battle: "They scream themselves hoarse, they lavish unmannerly expressions, abuse, threats, upon each other. They even take to cuffing, kicking, and biting."[246]

Under this training, rudimentary though it was, superior minds became sharpened, they got accustomed to think, to weigh the pros and cons, to investigate freely; a taste for intellectual things was kept up in them. The greatest geniuses who had come to study Aristotle on St. Genevieve's Mount were always proud to call themselves pupils of Paris. But narrow minds grew there more narrow; they remained, as Rabelais will say later, foolish and silly, dreaming, stultified things, "tout niais, tout reveux et rassotes." John of Salisbury, a brilliant scholar of Paris in the twelfth century, had the curiosity to come, after a long absence, and see his old companions "that dialectics still detained on St. Genevieve's Mount." "I found them," he tells us, "just as I had left them, and at the same point; they had not advanced one step in the art of solving our ancient questions, nor added to their science the smallest proposition.... I then clearly saw, what it is easy to discover, that the study of dialectics, fruitful if employed as a means to reach the sciences, remain inert and barren if taken as being itself the object of study."[247]

During this time were developing, on the borders of the Isis and the Cam, the Universities, so famous since, of Oxford and Cambridge; but their celebrity was chiefly local, and they never reached the international reputation of the one at Paris. Both towns had flourishing schools in the twelfth century; in the thirteenth, these schools were constituted into a University, on the model of Paris; they were granted privileges, and the Pope, who would not let slip this opportunity of intervening, confirmed them.[248]

The rules of discipline, the teaching, and the degrees are the same as at Paris. The turbulence is just as great; there are incessant battles; battles between the students of the North and those of the South, "boreales et australes," between the English and Irish, between the clerks and the laity. In 1214 some clerks are hung by the citizens of the town; the Pope's legate instantly makes the power of Rome felt, and avenges the insult sustained by privileged persons belonging to the Latin country. During ten years the inhabitants of Oxford shall remit the students half their rent; they shall pay down fifty-two shillings each year on St. Nicholas' day, in favour of indigent students; and they shall give a banquet to a hundred poor students. Even the bill of fare is settled by the Roman authority: bread, ale, soup, a dish of fish or of meat; and this for ever. The perpetrators of the hanging shall come barefooted, without girdle, cloak or hat, to remove their victims from their temporary resting-place, and, followed by all the citizens, bury them with their own hands in the place assigned to them in consecrated ground.

In 1252 the Irish and "Northerners" begin to fight in St. Mary's Church. They are obliged by authority to appoint twelve delegates, who negotiate a treaty of peace. In 1313 a prohibition is proclaimed against bearing names of nations, these distinctions being a constant source of quarrels. In 1334 such numbers of "Surrois" and "Norrois" clerks are imprisoned in Oxford Castle after a battle, that the sheriff declares escapes are sure to occur.[249] In 1354 a student, seated in a tavern, "in taberna vini," pours a jug of wine over the tavern-keeper's head, and breaks the jug upon it. Unfortunately the head is broken as well; the "laity" take the part of the victim, pursue the clerks, kill twenty of them, and fling their bodies "in latrinas"; they even betake themselves to the books of the students, and "slice them with knives and hatchets." During that term "oh! woe! no degrees in Logic were taken at the University of Oxford."[250] In 1364 war breaks out again between the citizens and students, "commissum fuit bellum," and lasts four days.

Regulations, frequently renewed, show the nature of the principal abuses. These laws pronounce: excommunication against the belligerents; exclusion from the University against those students who harboured "little women" (_mulierculas_) in their lodgings, major excommunication and imprisonment against those who amuse themselves by celebrating bacchanals in churches, masked, disguised, and crowned "with leaves or flowers"; all this about 1250. The statutes of University Hall, 1292, prohibit the fellows from fighting, from holding immodest conversations together, from telling each other love tales, "fubulas de amasiis," and from singing improper songs.[251]

The lectures bore on Aristotle, Boethius, Priscian, and Donatus; Latin and French were studied; the fellows were bound to converse together in Latin; a regulation also prescribed that the scholars should be taught Latin prosody, and accustomed to write epistles "in decent language, without emphasis or hyperbole, ... and as much as possible full of sense."[252] Objectionable passages are to be avoided; Ovid's "Art of Love" and the book of love by Pamphilus are prohibited.

From the thirteenth century foundations increase in number, both at Oxford and Cambridge. Now "chests" are created, a kind of pawnbroking institution for the benefit of scholars; now a college is created like University College, the most ancient of all, founded by William of Durham, who died in 1249, or New College, established by the illustrious Chancellor of Edward III. William of Wykeham. Sometimes books are bequeathed, as by Richard de Bury and Thomas de Cobham in the fourteenth century, or by Humphrey of Gloucester, in the fifteenth.[253] The journey to Paris continues a title to respect, but it is no longer indispensable.

III.

With these resources at hand, and encouraged by the example of rulers such as Henry "Beauclerc" and Henry II., the subjects of the kings of England latinised themselves in great numbers, and produced some of the Latin writings which enjoyed the widest reputation throughout civilised Europe. They handle the language with such facility in the twelfth century, one might believe it to be their mother-tongue; the chief monuments of English thought at this time are Latin writings. Latin tales, chronicles, satires, sermons, scientific and medical works, treatises on style, prose romances, and epics in verse, all kinds of composition are produced by Englishmen in considerable numbers.

One of them writes a poem in hexameters on the Trojan war, which doubtless bears traces of barbarism, but more resembles antique models than any other imitation made in Europe at the time. It was attributed to Cornelius Nepos, so late even as the Renaissance, though the author, Joseph of Exeter,[254] who composed it between 1178 and 1183, had dedicated his work to Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, and mentioned in it Arthur, "flos regum Arthurus," whose return was still expected by the Britons, "Britonum ridenda fides." Joseph is acquainted with the classics; he has read Virgil, and follows to the best of his ability the precepts of Horace.[255] Differing in this from Benoit de Sainte-More and his contemporaries, he depicts heroes that are not knights, and who at their death are not buried in Gothic churches by monks chanting psalms. This may be accounted a small merit; at that time, however, it was anything but a common one, and, in truth, Joseph of Exeter alone possessed it.

In Latin poems of a more modern inspiration, much ingenuity, observation, sometimes wit, but occasionally only commonplace wisdom, were expended by Godfrey of Winchester, who composed epigrams about the commencement of the twelfth century; by Henry of Huntingdon, the historian who wrote some also; by Alexander Neckham, author of a prose treatise on the "Natures of Things"; Alain de l'Isle and John de Hauteville, who both, long before Jean de Meun, made Nature discourse, "de omni re scibili"[256]; Walter the Englishman, and Odo of Cheriton, authors in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries of Latin fables,[257] and last, and above all, by Nigel Wireker, who wrote in picturesque style and flowing verse the story of Burnellus, the ass whose tail was too short.[258]

Burnellus, type of the ambitious monk, escapes from his stable, and wishes to rise in the world. He consults Galen, who laughs at him, and sends him to Salerno.[259] At Salerno he is again made a fool of, and provided with elixirs, warranted to make his tail grow to a beautiful length. But in passing through Lyons on his return, he quarrels with the dogs of a wicked monk called Fromond; while kicking right and left he kicks off his vials, which break, while Grimbald, the dog, cuts off half his tail. A sad occurrence! He revenges himself on Fromond, however, by drowning him in the Rhone, and, lifting up his voice, he makes then the valley ring with a "canticle" celebrating his triumph.[260]

What can he do next? It is useless for him to think of attaining perfection of form; he will shine by his science; he will go to the University of Paris, that centre of all light; he will become "Magister," and be appointed bishop. The people will bow down to him as he passes; it is a dream of bliss, La Fontaine's story of the "Pot au Lait."

He reaches Paris, and naturally matriculates among the English nation. He falls to studying; at the end of a year he has been taught many things, but is only able to say "ya" (semper ya repetit). He continues to work, scourges himself, follows the lectures for many years, but still knows nothing but "ya," and remains an ass.[261] What then? He will found an abbey, the rule of which shall combine the delights of all the others: it will be possible to gossip there as at Grandmont, to leave fasting alone as at Cluny, to dress warmly as among the Premonstrant, and to have a female friend like the secular canons; it will be a Theleme even before Rabelais.

But suddenly an unexpected personage appears on the scene, the donkey's master, Bernard the peasant, who had long been on the look-out for him, and by means of a stick the magister, bishop, mitred abbot, is led back to his stall.

Not satisfied with the writing of Latin poems, the subjects of the English kings would construct theories and establish the rules of the art. It was carrying boldness very far; they did not realise that theories can only be laid down with safety in periods of maturity, and that in formulating them too early there is risk of propagating nothing but the rules of bad taste. This was the case with Geoffrey de Vinesauf, at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Geoffrey is sure of himself; he learnedly joins example to precept, he juggles with words; he soars on high, far above men of good sense. It was with great reason his work was called the New art of poetry, "Nova Poetria,"[262] for it has nothing in common with the old one, with Horace's. It is dedicated to the Pope, and begins by puns on the name of Innocent[263]; it closes with a comparison between the Pope and God: "Thou art neither God nor man, but an intermediary being whom God has taken into partnership.... Not wishing to keep all for himself, he has taken heaven and given thee earth; what could he do better?"[264]

Precepts and examples are in the same style. Geoffrey teaches how to praise, blame, and ridicule; he gives models of good prosopopoeias; prosopopoeias for times of happiness: an apostrophe to England governed by Richard Coeur-de-Lion (we know how well he governed); prosopopoeia for times of sorrow: an apostrophe to England, whose sovereign (this same Richard) has been killed on a certain Friday:

"England, of his death thou thyself diest!... O lamentable day of Venus! O cruel planet! this day has been thy night, this Venus thy venom; by her wert thou vulnerable!... O woe and more than woe! O death! O truculent death! O death, I wish thou wert dead! It pleased thee to remove the sun and to obscure the soil with obscurity!"[265]

Then follow counsels as to the manner of treating ridiculous people[266]: they come in good time, and we breathe again, but we could have wished them even more stringent and sweeping. Such exaggerations make us understand the wisdom of the Oxford regulations prescribing simplicity and prohibiting emphasis; the more so if we consider that Geoffrey did not innovate, but merely turned into rules the tastes of many. Before him men of comparatively sound judgment, like Joseph of Exeter, forgot themselves so far as to apostrophise in these terms the night in which Troy was taken: "O night, cruel night! night truly noxious! troublous, sorrowful, traitorous, sanguinary night!"[267] &c.

IV.

The series of Latin prose authors of that epoch, grave or facetious, philosophers, moralists, satirists, historians, men of science, romance and tale writers, is still more remarkable in England than that of the poets. Had they only suspected the importance of the native language and left Latin, several of them would have held a very high rank in the national literature.

Romance is represented by Geoffrey of Monmouth, who in the twelfth century wrote his famous "Historia Regum Britanniae," the influence of which in England and on the Continent has already been seen. Prose tales were written in astonishing quantities, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, by those pious authors who, under pretext of edifying and amusing their readers at the same time, began by amusing, and frequently forgot to edify. They put into their collections all they knew in the way of legends, jokes, and facetious stories. England produced several such collections; their authors usually add a moral to their tales, but sometimes omit it, or else they simply say: "Moralise as thou wilt!"

In these innumerable well-told tales, full of sprightly dialogue, can be already detected something of the art of the _conteur_ which will appear in Chaucer, and something almost of the art of the novelist, destined five hundred years later to reach such a high development in England. The curiosity of the Celt, reawakened by the Norman, is perpetuated in Great Britain; stories are doted on there. "It is the custom," says an English author of the thirteenth century, "in rich families, to spend the winter evenings around the fire, telling tales of former times...."[268]

Subjects for tales were not lacking. The last researches have about made it certain that the immense "Gesta Romanorum," so popular in the Middle Ages, were compiled in England about the end of the thirteenth century.[269] The collection of the English Dominican John of Bromyard, composed in the following century, is still more voluminous. Some idea can be formed of it from the fact that the printed copy preserved at the National Library of Paris weighs fifteen pounds.[270]

Everything is found in these collections, from mere jokes and happy retorts to real novels. There are coarse fabliaux in their embryonic stage, objectionable tales where the frail wife derides the injured husband, graceful stories, miracles of the Virgin. We recognise in passing some fable that La Fontaine has since made famous, episodes out of the "Roman de Renart," anecdotes drawn from Roman history, adventures that, transformed and remodelled, have at length found their definitive rendering in Shakespeare's plays.

All is grist that comes to the mill of these authors; their stories are of French, Latin, English, Hindu origin. It is plain, however, that they write for Englishmen from the fact that many of their stories are localised in England, and that quotations in English are here and there inserted into the tale.[271]

In turning the pages of these voluminous works, glimpses will be caught of the Wolf, the Fox, and Tybert the cat; the Miller, his son and the Ass; the Women and the Secret (instead of eggs, it is here a question of "exceedingly black crows"); the Rats who wish to hang a bell about the Cat's neck. Many tales, fabliaux, and short stories will be recognised that have become popular under their French, English, or Italian shape, such as the lay of the "Oiselet,"[272] the "Chienne qui pleure," or the Weeping Bitch, the lay of Aristotle, the Geese of Friar Philip, the Pear Tree, the Hermit who got drunk. Some of them are very indecent, but they were not left out of the collections on that account, any more than miniaturists were forbidden to paint on the margins of holy, or almost holy books, scenes that were far from being so. A manuscript of the decretals, for example, painted in England at the beginning of the fourteenth century, exhibits a series of drawings illustrating some of these stories, and meant to fit an obviously unexpurgated text.[273]

The Virgin plays her usual part of an indulgent protectress; the story-tellers strangely deviate from the sacred type set before them in the Scriptures. They represent her as the Merciful One whose patience no crime can exhaust, and whose goodwill is enlisted by the slightest act of homage. She is transformed and becomes in their hands an intermediate being between a saint, a goddess, and a fairy. The sacristan-nun of a convent, beautiful as may be believed, falls in love with a clerk, doubtless a charming one, and, unable to live without him, "throws her keys on the altar, and roves with her friend for five years outside the monastery." Passing by the place at the end of that time, she is impelled by curiosity to go to the convent and inquire concerning herself, the sacristan-nun of former years. To her great surprise she hears that the sister continues there, and edifies the whole community by her piety. At night, while she sleeps, the Virgin appears to her in a vision, saying: "Return, unfortunate one, to thy convent! It is I who, assuming thy shape, have fulfilled thy duties until now."[274] A conversion of course follows. A professional thief, who robbed and did nothing besides, "always invoked the Virgin with great devotion, even when he set out to steal."[275] He is caught and hanged; but the Virgin herself holds him up, and keeps him alive; he is taken down, and turns monk.

Another tale, of a romantic turn, is at once charming, absurd, immoral, edifying, and touching: "Celestinus reigned in the City of Rome. He was exceedingly prudent, and had a pretty daughter."[276] A knight fell in love with her, but, being also very prudent after a fashion, he argued thus: "Never will the emperor consent to give me his daughter to wife, I am not worthy; but if I could in some manner obtain the love of the maiden, I should ask for no more." He went often to see the princess, and tried to find favour in her eyes, but she said to him: "Thy trouble is thrown away; thinkest thou I know not what all these fine speeches mean?"

He then offers money: "It will be a hundred marks," says the emperor's daughter. But when evening comes the knight falls into such a deep sleep that he only awakes on the following morning. The knight ruins himself in order to obtain the same favour a second time, and succeeds no better than at first. He has spent all he had, and, more in love than ever, he journeys afar to seek a lender. He arrives "in a town where were many merchants, and a variety of philosophers, among them master Virgil." A merchant, a man of singular humour, agrees to lend the money; he refuses to take the lands of the young man as a security; "but thou shalt sign with thy blood the bond, and if thou dost not return the entire sum on the appointed day, I shall have the right to remove with a well-sharpened knife all the flesh off thy body."

The knight signs in haste, for he is possessed by his passion, and he goes to consult Virgil. "My good master," he says, using the same expression as Dante, "I need your advice;" and Virgil then reveals to him the existence of a talisman, sole cause of his irresistible desire to sleep. The knight returns with speed to the strange palace inhabited by the still stranger daughter of this so "prudent" emperor; he removes the talisman, and is no longer overpowered by sleep.

To many tears succeeds a mutual affection, so true, so strong, accompanied by so much happiness, that both forget the fatal date. However, start he must. "Go," says the maiden, "and offer him double, or treble the sum; offer him all the gold he wishes; I will procure it for thee." He arrives, he offers, but the merchant refuses: "Thou speakest in vain! Wert thou to offer me all the wealth of the city, nothing would I accept but what has been signed, sealed, and settled between us." They go before the judge; the sentence is not a doubtful one.

The maiden, however, kept herself well informed of all that went on, and, seeing the turn affairs were taking, "she cut her hair, donned a rich suit of men's clothes, mounted a palfrey, and set out for the palace where her lover was about to hear his sentence." She asks to be allowed to defend the knight. "But nothing can be done," says the judge. She offers money to the merchant, which he refuses; she then exclaims: "Let it be done as he desires; let him have the flesh, and nothing but the flesh; the bond says nothing of the blood." Hearing this, the merchant replies: "Give me my money and I hold you clear of the rest." "Not so," said the maiden. The merchant is confounded, the knight released; the maiden returns home hurriedly, puts on her female attire, and hastens out to meet her lover, eager to hear all that has passed.

"O my dear mistress, that I love above all things, I nearly lost my life this day; but as I was about to be condemned, suddenly appeared a knight of an admirable presence, so handsome that I never saw his like." How could she, at these words, prevent her sparkling eyes from betraying her? "He saved me by his wisdom, and nought had I even to pay.

"_The Maiden._--Thou might'st have been more generous, and brought home to supper the knight who had saved thy life.

"_The Knight._--He appeared and disappeared so suddenly I could not.

"_The Maiden._--Would'st thou recognise him again if he returned?

"_The Knight._--I should, assuredly."[277]

She then puts on again her male attire, and it is easy to imagine with what transports the knight beheld his saviour in his friend. The end of this first outline of a "Merchant of Venice" is not less naive, picturesque, and desultory than the rest: "Thereupon he immediately married the maiden," and they led saintly lives. We are not told what the prudent emperor Celestinus thought of this "immediately."

Next to these compilers whose works became celebrated, but whose names for the most part remained concealed, were professional authors, who were and wanted to be known, and who enjoyed a great personal fame. Foremost among them were John of Salisbury and Walter Map.

John of Salisbury,[278] a former pupil of Abelard, a friend of St. Bernard, Thomas Becket, and the English Pope Adrian IV., the envoy of Henry II. to the court of Rome, which he visited ten times in twelve years, writes in Latin his "Policratic,"[279] or "De nugis Curialium," his "Metalogic," his "Enthetic" (in verse), and his eulogy on Becket.[280] John is only too well versed in the classics, and he quotes them to an extent that does more credit to his erudition than to his taste; but he has the gift of observation, and his remarks on the follies of his time have a great historical value. In his "Policratic" is found a satire on a sort of personage who was then beginning to play his part again, after an interruption of several centuries, namely, the _curialis_, or courtier; a criticism on histrions who, with their indecent farces, made a rough prelude to modern dramatic art; a caricature of those fashionable singers who disgraced the religious ceremonies in the newly erected cathedrals by their songs resembling those "of women ... of sirens ... of nightingales and parrots."[281] He ridicules hunting-monks, and also those chiromancers for whom Becket himself had a weakness. "Above all," says John, by way of conclusion and apology, "let not the men of the Court upbraid me with the follies I trust them with; let them know I did not mean them in the least, I satirised only myself and those like me, and it would be hard indeed if I were forbidden to castigate both myself and my peers."[282] In his "Metalogic," he scoffs at the vain dialectics of silly logicians, Cornificians, as he calls them, an appellation that stuck to them all through the Middle Ages, and at their long phrases interlarded with so many negative particles that, in order to find out whether yes or no was meant, it became necessary to examine if the number of noes was an odd or even one.

Bold ideas abound with John of Salisbury; he praises Brutus; he is of opinion that the murder of tyrants is not only justifiable, but an honest and commendable deed: "Non modo licitum est, sed aequum et justum." Whatever may be the apparent prosperity of the great, the State will go to ruin if the common people suffer: "When the people suffer, it is as though the sovereign had the gout"[283]; he must not imagine he is in health; let him try to walk, and down he falls.

Characteristics of the same sort are found, with much more sparkling wit, in the Latin works of Walter Map.[284] This Welshman has the vivacity of the Celts his compatriots; he was celebrated at the court of Henry II., and throughout England for his repartees and witticisms, so celebrated indeed that he himself came to agree to others' opinion, and thought them worth collecting. He thus formed a very bizarre book, without beginning or end, in which he noted, day by day,[285] all the curious things he had heard--"ego verbum audivi"--and with greater abundance those he had said, including a great many puns. Thus it happens that certain chapters of his "De Nugis Curialium," a title that the work owes to the success of John of Salisbury's, are real novels, and have the smartness of such; others are real fabliaux, with all their coarseness; others are scenes of comedy, with dialogues, and indications of characters as in a play[286]; others again are anecdotes of the East, "quoddam mirabile," told on their return by pilgrims or crusaders.

Like John of Salisbury, Map had studied in Paris, fulfilled missions to Rome, and known Becket; but he shared neither his sympathy for France, nor his affection for St. Bernard. In the quarrel which sprung up between the saint and Abelard, he took the part of the latter. Though he belonged to the Church, he is never weary of sneering at the monks, and especially at the Cistercians; he imputes to St. Bernard abortive miracles. "Placed," says Map, "in the presence of a corpse, Bernard exclaimed: 'Walter, come forth!'--But Walter, as he did not hear the voice of Jesus, so did he not listen with the ears of Lazarus, and came not."[287] Women also are for Map the subject of constant satires; he was the author of that famous "Dissuasio Valerii ad Rufinum de ducenda uxore,"[288] well known to the Wife of Bath and which the Middle Ages persistently attributed to St. Jerome. Map had asserted his authorship and stated that he had written the dissertation "changing only our names," assuming for himself the name of Valerius "me qui Walterus sum," and calling his uxorious friend Rufinus because he was red-haired. But it was of no avail, and St. Jerome continued to be the author, in the same way as Cornelius Nepos was credited with having written Joseph of Exeter's "Trojan War," dedicated though it was to the archbishop of Canterbury. Map is very strong in his advice to his red-haired friend, who "was bent upon being married, not loved, and aspired to the fate of Vulcan, not of Mars."

As a compensation many poems in Latin and French were attributed to Map, of doubtful authenticity. That he wrote verses and was famous as a poet there is no question, but what poems were his we do not know for certain. To him was ascribed most of the "Goliardic" poetry current in the Middle Ages, so called on account of the principal personage who figures in it, Golias, the type of the gluttonous and debauched prelate. Some of those poems were merry songs full of humour and _entrain_, perfectly consistent with what we know of Map's fantasy: "My supreme wish is to die in the tavern! May my dying lips be wet with wine! So that on their coming the choirs of angels will exclaim: 'God be merciful to this drinker!'"[289] Doubts exist also as to what his French poems were; most of his jokes and repartees were delivered in French, as we know from the testimony of Gerald de Barry,[290] but what he wrote in that language is uncertain. The "Lancelot" is assigned to him in many manuscripts and is perhaps his work.[291]

V.

The subjects of the Angevin kings also took part in the scientific movement. In the ranks of their literary men using the Latin language are jurists, physicians, savants, historians, theologians, and, among the latter, some of the most famous doctors of the Middle Ages: Alexander of Hales, the "irrefragable doctor"[292]; Duns Scot, the "subtle doctor"; Adam de Marisco, friend and adviser of Simon de Montfort, the "illustrious doctor"; Ockham, the "invincible doctor"; Roger Bacon, the "admirable doctor"; Bradwardine, the "profound doctor," and yet others.

Scot discusses the greatest problems of soul and matter, and amid many contradictions, and much obscurity, arrives at this conclusion, that matter is one: "Socrates and the brazen sphere are identical in nature." He almost reaches this further conclusion, that "being is one."[293] His reputation is immense during the Middle Ages; it diminishes at the Renaissance, and Rabelais, drawing up a list of some remarkable books in St. Victor's library, inscribes on it, between the "Maschefaim des Advocats" and the "Ratepenade des Cardinaux," the works of the subtle doctor under the irreverent title of "Barbouillamenta Scoti."[294]

Ockham, in the pay of Philippe-le-Bel--for England, that formerly had to send for Lanfranc and Anselm, can now furnish the Continent with doctors--makes war on Boniface VIII., and, drawing his arguments from both St. Paul and Aristotle, attacks the temporal power of the popes.[295] Roger Bacon endeavours to clear up the chaos of the sciences; he forestalls his illustrious namesake, and classifies the causes of human errors.[296] Archbishop Bradwardine,[297] who died in the great plague of 1349, restricts himself to theology, and in a book famous during the Middle Ages, defends the "Cause of God" against all sceptics, heretics, infidels, and miscreants, confuting them all, and even Aristotle himself.[298]

No longer is Salerno alone to produce illustrious physicians, or Bologne illustrious jurists. A "Rosa Anglica," the work of John of Gaddesden, court physician under Edward II., has the greatest success in learned Europe, and teaches how the stone can be cured by rubbing the invalid with a paste composed of crickets and beetles pounded together, "but taking care to first remove the heads and wings."[299] A multitude of prescriptions, of the same stamp most of them, are set down in this book, which was still printed and considered as an authority at the Renaissance.

Bartholomew the Englishman,[300] another savant, yet more universal and more celebrated, writes one of the oldest encyclopedias. His Latin book, translated into several languages, and of which there are many very beautiful manuscripts,[301] comprises everything, from God and the angels down to beasts. Bartholomew teaches theology, philosophy, geography, and history, the natural sciences, medicine, worldly civility, and the art of waiting on table. Nothing is too high, or too low, or too obscure for him; he is acquainted with the nature of angels, as well as with that of fleas: "Fleas bite more sharply when it is going to rain." He knows about diamonds, "stones of love and reconciliation"; and about man's dreams "that vary according to the variation of the fumes that enter into the little chamber of his phantasy"; and about headaches that arise from "hot choleric vapours, full of ventosity"; and about the moon, that, "by the force of her dampness, sets her impression in the air and engenders dew"; and about everything in fact.

The jurists are numerous; through them again the action of Rome upon England is fortified. Even those among them who are most bent upon maintaining the local laws and traditions, have constantly to refer to the ancient law-makers and commentators; Roman law is for them a sort of primordial and common treasure, open to all, and wherewith to fill the gaps of the native legislation. The first lessons had been given after the Conquest by foreigners: the Italian Vacarius, brought by Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, had professed law at Oxford in 1149.[302] Then Anglo-Normans and English begin to codify and interpret their laws; they write general treatises; they collect precedents; and so well do they understand the utility of precedents that these continue to have in legal matters, up to this day, an importance which no other nation has credited them with. Ralph Glanville, Chief Justice under Henry II., writes or inspires a "Treatise of the laws and customs of England"[303]; Richard, bishop of London, compiles a "Dialogue of the Exchequer,"[304] full of wisdom, life, and even a sort of humour; Henry of Bracton,[305] the most renowned of all, logician, observer, and thinker, composes in the thirteenth century an ample treatise, of which several abridgments[306] were afterwards made for the convenience of the judges, and which is still consulted.

In the monasteries, the great literary occupation consists in the compiling of chronicles. Historians of Latin tongue abounded in mediaeval England, nearly every abbey had its own. A register was prepared, with a loose leaf at the end, "scedula," on which the daily events were inscribed in pencil, "cum plumbo." At the end of the year the appointed chronicler, "non quicumque voluerit, sed cui injunctum fuerit," shaped these notes into a continued narrative, adding his remarks and comments, and inserting the entire text of the official documents sent by authority for the monastery to keep, according to the custom of the time.[307] In other cases, of rarer occurrence, a chronicle was compiled by some monk who, finding the life in cloister very dull, the offices very long, and the prayers somewhat monotonous, used writing as a means of resisting temptations and ridding himself of vain thoughts and the remembrance of a former worldly life.[308] Thus there exists an almost uninterrupted series of English chronicles, written in Latin, from the Conquest to the Renaissance. The most remarkable of these series is that of the great abbey of St. Albans, founded by Offa, a contemporary of Charlemagne, and rebuilt by Paul, a monk of Caen, who was abbot in 1077.

Most of these chronicles are singularly impartial; the authors freely judge the English and the French, the king and the people, the Pope, Harold and William. They belong to that Latin country and that religious world which had no frontiers. The cleverest among them are remarkable for their knowledge of the ancients, for the high idea they conceive, from the twelfth century on, of the historical art, and for the pains they take to describe manners and customs, to draw portraits and to preserve the memory of curious incidents. Thus shone, in the twelfth century, Orderic Vital, author of an "Ecclesiastical History" of England[309]; Eadmer, St. Anselm's biographer[310]; Gerald de Barry, otherwise Geraldus Cambrensis; a fiery, bragging Welshman, who exhibited both in his life and works the temperament of a Gascon[311]; William of Malmesbury,[312] Henry of Huntingdon,[313] &c.

These two last have a sort of passion for their art, and a deep veneration for the antique models. William of Malmesbury is especially worthy of remembrance and respect. Before beginning to write, he had collected a multitude of books and testimonies; after writing he looks over and revises his text; he never considers, with famous Abbe Vertot, that "son siege est fait," that it is too late to mend. He is alive to the interest offered for the historian by the customs of the people, and by these characteristic traits, scarcely perceptible sometimes, which are nevertheless landmarks in the journey of mankind towards civilisation. His judgments are appreciative and thoughtful; he does something to keep awake the reader's attention, and notes down, with this view, many anecdotes, some of which are excellent prose tales. Seven hundred years before Merimee, he tells in his own way the story of the "Venus d'Ille."[314] He does not reach the supreme heights of art, but he walks in the right way; he does not know how to blend his hues, as others have done since, so as to delight the eye with many-coloured sights; but he already paints in colours. To please his reader, he suddenly and naively says: "Now, I will tell you a story. Once upon a time...." But if he has not been able to skilfully practice latter-day methods, it is something to have tried, and so soon recognised the excellence of them.

In the thirteenth century rose above all others Matthew Paris,[315] an English monk of the Abbey of St. Albans, who in his sincerity and conscientiousness, and in his love for the historical art, resembles William of Malmesbury. He, too, wants to interest; a skilful draughtsman, "pictor peroptimus,"[316] he illustrates his own manuscripts; he depicts scenes of religious life, a Gothic shrine carried by monks, which paralytics endeavour to touch, an architect receiving the king's orders, an antique gem of the treasury of St. Albans which, curiously enough, the convent lent pregnant women in order to assist them in child-birth; a strange animal, little known in England: "a certain elephant,"[317] drawn from nature, with a replica of his trunk in another position, "the first, he says, that had been seen in the country."[318] The animal came from Egypt, and was a gift from Louis IX. of France to Henry III. Matthew notes characteristic details showing what manners were; he gives great attention to foreign affairs, and also collects anecdotes, for instance, of the wandering Jew, who still lived in his time, a fact attested in his presence by an Archbishop of Armenia, who came to St. Albans in 1228. The porter of the praetorium struck Jesus saying: "Go on faster, go on; why tarriest thou?" Jesus, turning, looked at him with a stern countenance and replied: "I go on, but thou shalt tarry till I come." Since then Cartaphilus tarries, and his life begins again with each successive century. Matthew profits by the same occasion to find out about Noah's ark, and informs us that it was still to be seen, according to the testimony of this prelate, in Armenia.[319]

In the fourteenth century the most illustrious chroniclers were Ralph Higden, whose Universal History became a sort of standard work, was translated into English, printed at the Renaissance, and constantly copied and quoted[320]; Walter of Hemingburgh, Robert of Avesbury, Thomas Walsingham,[321] not to mention many anonymous authors. Several among the historians of that date, and Walsingham in particular, would, on account of the dramatic vigour of their pictures, have held a conspicuous place in the literature of mediaeval England had they not written in Latin, like their predecessors.[322]

From these facts, and from this ample, many-coloured literary growth, may be gathered how complete the transformation was, and how strong the intellectual ties with Rome and Paris had become; also how greatly the inhabitants of England now differed from those Anglo-Saxons, that the victors of Hastings had found "agrestes et pene illiteratos," according to the testimony of Orderic Vital. Times are changed: "The admirable Minerva visits human nations in turn ... she has abandoned Athens, she has quitted Rome, she withdraws from Paris; she has now come to this island of Britain, the most remarkable in the world; nay more, itself an epitome of the world."[323] Thus could speak concerning his country, about the middle of the fourteenth century, when the results of the attempted experiment were certain and manifest, that great lover of books, a late student at Paris, who had been a fervent admirer of the French capital, Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham.

FOOTNOTES:

[220] "Volentes nos ipsos humiliare pro Illo Qui Se pro nobis humiliavit usque ad mortem ... offerimus et libere concedimus Deo et ... domino nostro papae Innocentio ejusque catholicis successoribus, totum regnum Angliae et totum regnum Hiberniae, cum omni jure et pertinentiis suis, pro remissione peccatorum nostrorum." Hereupon follows the pledge to pay for ever to the Holy See "mille marcas sterlingorum," and then the oath of fealty to the Pope as suzerain of England. Stubbs, "Select Charters," Oxford, 1876, 3rd ed., pp. 284 ff.

[221] R. W. Eyton, "A key to Domesday, showing the Method and Exactitude of its Mensuration ... exemplified by ... the Dorset Survey," London, 1878, 4to, p. 156.

[222] "Historical maps of England during the first thirteen centuries," by C. H. Pearson, London, 1870, fol. p. 61.

[223] Concerning their power and the part they played, see for example the confirmation by Philip VI. of France, in November, 1329, of the regulations submitted to him by that "religious and honest person, friar Henri de Charnay, of the order of Preachers, inquisitor on the crime of heresy, sent in that capacity to our kingdom and residing in Carcassonne." Sentences attain not only men, but even houses; the king orders: "_Premierement_, quod domus, plateae et loca in quibus haereses fautae fuerunt, diruantur et nunquam postea reedificentur, sed perpetuo subjaceant in sterquilineae vilitati," &c. Isambert's "Recueil des anciennes Lois," vol. iv. p. 364.

[224] "Speculum vitae B. Francisci et sociorum ejus," opera Fratris G. Spoelberch, Antwerp, 1620, 8vo, part i. chap. iv.

[225] Brewer and Howlett, "Monumenta Franciscana," Rolls, 1858-82, 8vo, vol. i. p. 10.

[226] Letter of the year 1238 or thereabout; "Roberti Grosseteste Epistolae," ed. Luard, Rolls, 1861, p. 179.

[227]

A bettre felaw sholde men noght finde, He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf-month and excuse him atte fulle.

Prologue of the "Canterbury Tales." The name of summoner was held in little esteem, and no wonder:

"Artow thanne a bailly?"--"Ye," quod he; He dorste nat for verray filthe and shame Seye that he was a somnour for the name."

("Freres Tale," l. 94.)

[228] They built a good many. Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, after having been a parish priest at Caen, first tried his hand as a builder, in erecting castles; he built some at Newark, Sleaford, and Banbury. He then busied himself with holier work and endowed Lincoln Cathedral with its stone vault. This splendid church had been begun on a spot easy to defend by another French bishop, Remi, formerly monk at Fecamp: "Mercatis igitur praediis, in ipso vertice urbis juxta castellum turribus fortissimis eminens, in loco forti fortem, pulchro pulchrum, virgini virgineam construxit ecclesiam; quae et grata esset Deo servientibus et, ut pro tempore oportebat, invincibilis hostibus." Henry of Huntingdon, "Historia Anglorum," Rolls, p. 212.

[229] "Epistola Hugonis ... de dejectione Willelmi Eliensis episcopi Regis cancellarii," in Hoveden, "Chronica," ed. Stubbs, Rolls, vol. iii. p. 141, year 1191: "Hic ad augmentum et famam sui nominis, emendicata carmina et rhythmos adulatorios comparabat, et de regno Francorum cantores et joculatores muneribus allexerat, ut de illo canerent in plateis: et jam dicebatur ubique, quod non erat talis in orbe." See below, pp. 222, 345.

[230] See Stubbs, Introductions to the "Chronica Magistri Rogeri de Hovedene." Rolls, 1868, 4 vols. 8vo, especially vols. iii. and iv.

[231] Lanfranc, 1005?-1089, archbishop in 1070; "Opera quae supersunt," ed. Giles, Oxford, 1843, 2 vols. 8vo.--St. Anselm, 1033-1109, archbishop of Canterbury in 1093; works ("Monologion," "Proslogion," "Cur Deus homo," &c.) in Migne's "Patrologia," vol. clviii. and clix.--Stephen Langton, born ab. 1150, of a Yorkshire family, archbishop in 1208, d. 1228.

[232] A declared supporter of the Franciscans, and an energetic censor of the papal court, bishop of Lincoln 1235-53, has left a vast number of writings, and enjoyed considerable reputation for his learning and sanctity. His letters have been edited by Luard, "Roberti Grosseteste ... Epistolae," London, 1861, Rolls. See below, p. 213. Roger Bacon praised highly his learned works, adding, however: "quia Graecum et Hebraeum non scivit sufficienter ut per se transferret, sed habuit multos adjutores." "Rogeri Bacon Opera ... inedita," ed. Brewer, 1859, Rolls, p. 472.

[233] "Gesta Regum Anglorum," by William of Malmesbury, ed. Hardy, 1840, "Prologus." He knew well the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" and used it: "Sunt sane quaedam vetustatis indicia chronico more et patrio sermone, per annos Domini ordinata," p. 2.

[234] "Henrici archidiaconi Huntendunensis Historia Anglorum," Rolls, 1879, p. 201.

[235] He derived his name from Bury St. Edmund's, near which he was born on January 24, 1287. He was the son of Sir Richard Aungerville, Knight, whose ancestors had come to England with the Conqueror. He became the king's receiver in Gascony, fulfilled missions at Avignon in 1330 when he met Petrarca ("vir adentis ingenii," says Petrarca of him), and in 1333. He became in this year bishop of Durham, against the will of the chapter, who had elected Robert de Graystanes, the historian. He was lord Treasurer, then high Chancellor in 1334-5, discharged new missions on the Continent, followed Edward III. on his expedition of 1338, and died in 1345.

[236] See "Registrum Palatinum Dunelmense," ed. Hardy, Rolls, vol. iii. Introduction, p. cxlvi.

[237] The best edition is that given by E. C. Thomas, "The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury," London, 1888, 8vo, Latin text with an English translation. The Introduction contains a biography in which some current errors have been corrected, and notes on the various MSS. According to seven MSS. the "Philobiblon" would be the work of Robert Holkot, and not of Richard de Bury, but this appears to be a mistaken attribution.

[238] "Occupant etenim," the books are represented to say, "loca nostra, nunc canes, nunc aves, nunc bestia bipedalis, cujus cohabitatio cum clericis vetabatur antiquitus, a qua semper, super aspidem et basilicum alumnos nostros docuimus esse fugiendum.... Ista nos conspectos in angulo, jam defunctae araneae de sola tela protectos ... mox in capitogia pretiosa ... vestes et varias furraturas ... nos consulit commutandos" (chap. iv. p. 32).

[239] Chap. viii. p. 66.

[240] Chap. i. pp. 11, 13.

[241] "Sicut quondam Athenarum civitas mater liberalium artium et literarum, philosophorum nutrix et fons omnium scientiarum Graeciam decoravit, sic Parisiae nostris temporibus, non solum Franciam imo totius Europae partem residuam in scientia et in moribus sublimarunt. Nam velut sapientiae mater, de omnibus mundi partibus advenientes recolligunt, omnibus in necessariis subveniunt, pacifice omnes regunt...." "Bartholomaei Anglici De ... Rerum ... Proprietatibus Libri xviii.," ed. Pontanus, Francfort, 1609, 8vo. Book xv. chap. 57, "De Francia," p. 653.

[242] "Philobiblon," ed. Thomas, chap. viii. p. 69. _Cf._ Neckham, "De Naturis Rerum," chap. clxxiv. (Rolls, 1863, p. 311).

[243] On the old University of Paris, see Ch. Thurot's excellent essay: "De l'organisation de l'enseignement dans l'Universite de Paris au moyen age," Paris, 1850, 8vo. The four nations, p. 16; the English nation, p. 32; its colleges, p. 28; the degrees in the faculty of arts, pp. 43 ff.

[244] Their servants were of course much worse in every way; they lived upon thefts, and had even formed on this account an association with a captain at their head: "Cum essem Parisius audivi quod garciones servientes scholarium, qui omnes fere latrunculi solent esse, habebant quendam magistrum qui pinceps erat hujus modi latrocinii." Th. Wright, "Latin stories from MSS. of the XIIIth and XIVth Centuries," London, 1842, tale No. cxxv.

[245] May, 1358, in Isambert's "Recueil des anciennes Lois," vol. v. p. 26.

[246] Thurot, _ut supra_, pp. 73, 89.

[247] In his "Metalogicus," "Opera Omnia," ed. Giles, Oxford, 1848, 5 vols. 8vo, vol. v. p. 81.

[248] Innocent IV. confirms (ab. 1254) all the "immunitates et laudabiles, antiquas, rationabiles consuetudines" of Oxford: "Nulli ergo hominum liceat hanc paginam nostrae protectionis infringere vel ausu temerario contraire." "Munimenta Academica, or documents illustrative of academical life and studies at Oxford," ed. Anstey, 1868, Rolls, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 26. _Cf._ W. E. Gladstone, "An Academic Sketch," Oxford, 1892.

[249] "Rolls of Parliament," 8 Ed. III. vol. ii. p. 76.

[250] Robert of Avesbury (a contemporary, he died ab. 1357), "Historia Edvardi tertii," ed. Hearne, Oxford, 1720, 8vo, p. 197.

[251] "Vivant omnes honeste, ut clerici, prout decet sanctos, non pugnantes, non scurrilia vel turpia loquentes, non cantilenas sive falulas de amasiis vel luxuriosis, aut ad libidinem sonantibus narrantes, cantantes aut libenter audientes." "Munimenta Academica," i. p. 60.

[252] Regulation of uncertain date belonging to the thirteenth (or more probably to the fourteenth) century, concerning pupils in grammar schools; they will be taught prosody, and will write verses and epistles: "Literas compositas verbis decentibus, non ampullosis aut sesquipedalibus et quantum possint sententia refertis." They will learn Latin, English, and French "in gallico ne lingua illa penitus sit omissa." "Munimenta Academica," i. p. 437.

[253] Another sign of the times consists in the number of episcopal letters authorizing ecclesiastics to leave their diocese and go to the University. Thus, for example, Richard de Kellawe, bishop of Durham, 1310-16, writes to Robert de Eyrum: "Quum per viros literatos Dei consuevit Ecclesia venustari, cupientibus in agro studii laborare et acquirere scientiae margaritam ... favorem libenter et gratiam impertimus ... ut in loco ubi generale viget studium, a data praesentium usque in biennium revolutum morari valeas." "Registrum Palatinum Dunelmense," ed. Hardy, Rolls, 1873, 4 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 288 (many other similar letters).

[254] Josephus Exoniensis, or Iscanus, followed Archbishop Baldwin to the crusade in favour of which this prelate had delivered the sermons, and undertaken the journey in Wales described by Gerald de Barry. Joseph sang the expedition in a Latin poem, "Antiocheis," of which a few lines only have been preserved. In his Trojan poem he follows, as a matter of course, Dares; the work was several times printed in the Renaissance and since: "Josephi Iscani ... De Bello Trojano libri ... auctori restituti ... a Samuele Dresemio," Francfort, 1620, 8vo. The MS. lat. 15015 in the National Library, Paris, contains a considerable series of explanatory notes written in the thirteenth century, concerning this poem (I printed the first book of them).

[255] For example, in his opening lines, where he adheres to the simplicity recommended in "Ars Poetica":

Iliadum lacrymas concessaque Pergama fatis, Praelia bina ducum, bis adactam cladibus urbem, In cineres quaerimus.

[256] "Anglo-Latin satirical poets and epigrammatists of the XIIth Century," ed. Th. Wright, London, 1872, Rolls, 2 vols. 8vo; contains, among other works: "Godfredi prioris Epigrammata" (one in praise of the Conqueror, vol. ii. p. 149); "Henrici archidiaconi Historiae liber undecimus" (that is, Henry of Huntingdon, fine epigram "in seipsum," vol. ii. p. 163); "Alexandri Neckham De Vita Monachorum" (the same wrote a number of treatises on theological, scientific, and grammatical subjects; see especially his "De Naturis Rerum," ed. Wright, Rolls, 1863); "Alani Liber de Planctu Naturae" (_cf._ "Opera," Antwerp, 1654, fol., the nationality of Alain de l'Isle is doubtful); "Joannis de Altavilla Architrenius" (that is the arch-weeper; lamentations of a young man on his past, his faults, the faults of others; Nature comforts him and he marries Moderation; the author was a Norman, and wrote ab. 1184).

[257] For the Latin fables of Walter the Englishman, Odo de Cheriton, Neckham, &c., see Hervieux, "les Fabulistes latins," Paris, 1883-4, 2 vols. (text, commentary, &c.).

[258] "Speculum Stultorum," in Wright, "Anglo-Latin satirical poets"; _ut supra_. Nigel (twelfth century) had for his patron William de Longchamp, bishop of Ely (see above, p. 163), and fulfilled ecclesiastical functions in Canterbury.

[259]

In titulo caudae Francorum rex Ludovicus Non tibi praecellit pontificesve sui.

(Vol. i. p. 17.)

[260]

Cantemus, socii! festum celebremus aselli! Vocibus et votis organa nostra sonent. Exultent asini, laeti modulentur aselli, Laude sonent celebri tympana, sistra, chori!

(p. 48.)

[261]

Jam pertransierat Burnellus tempora multa Et prope completus septimus annus erat, Cum nihil ex toto quodcunque docente magistro Aut socio potuit discere praeter ya. Quod natura dedit, quod secum detulit illuc, Hoc habet, hoc illo nemo tulisse potest ... Semper ya repetit.

(p. 64)

[262] "Galfridi de Vinosalvo Ars Poetica," ed. Leyser, Helmstadt, 1724, 8vo. He wrote other works; an "Itinerarium regis Anglorum Richardi I." (text in the "Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores" of Gale, 1684 ff., fol., vol. ii.) has been attributed to him, but there are grave doubts; see Haureau, "Notices et Extraits des Manuscrits," vol. xxix. pp. 321 ff. According to Stubbs ("Itinerarium peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi," 1864, Rolls), the real author is Richard, canon of the Holy Trinity, London.

[263]

Papa stupor mundi, si dixero Papa _Nocenti_: Acephalum nomen tribuam tibi; si caput addam, Hostis erit metri, &c.

[264]

Nec Deus es nec homo, quasi neuter es inter utrumque, Quem Deus elegit socium. Socialiter egit Tecum, partibus mundum. Sed noluit unus Omnia. Sed voluit tibi terras et sibi coelum. Quid potuit melius? quid majus? cui meliori?

(p. 95.)

[265]

Tota peris ex morte sua. Mors non fuit ejus, Sed tua. Non una, sed publica, mortis origo. O Veneris lacrimosa dies! o sydus amarum! Illa dies tua nox fuit et Venus illa venenum; Illa dedit vulnus ... O dolor! o plus quam dolor! o mors! o truculenta Mors! Esses utinam mors mortua! quid meministi Ausa nefas tantum? Placuit tibi tollere solem Et tenebris tenebrare solum.

(p. 18.)

[266]

Contra ridiculos si vis insurgere plene Surge sub hac forma. Lauda, sed ridiculose. Argue, sed lepide, &c.

(p. 21.)

[267]

Nox, fera nox, vere nox noxia, turbida, tristis, Insidiosa, ferox, &c.

("De Bello Trojano," book vi. l. 760.)

[268] "Cum in hyemis intemperie post cenam noctu familia divitis ad focum, ut potentibus moris est, recensendis antiquis gestis operam daret...." "Gesta Romanorum," version compiled in England, ed. Hermann Oesterley, Berlin, 1872, 8vo, chap. clv.

[269] Such is the conclusion come to by Oesterley. The original version, according to him, was written in England; on the Continent, where it was received with great favour, it underwent considerable alterations, and many stories were added. The "Gesta" have been wrongly attributed to Pierre Bercheur. Translations into English prose were made in the fifteenth century: "The early English version of the Gesta Romanorum," ed. S. J. H. Herrtage, Early English Text Society, 1879, 8vo.

[270] Seven kilos, 200 gr. "Doctissimi viri fratris Johannis de Bromyard ... Summ[a] praedicantium," Nurenberg, 1485, fol. The subjects are arranged in alphabetical order: Ebrietas, Luxuria, Maria, &c.

[271] Such is the case in several of the stories collected by Th. Wright: "A Selection of Latin Stories from MSS, of the XIIIth and XIVth Centuries, a contribution to the History of Fiction," London, Percy Society, 1842, 8vo. In No. XXII., "De Muliere et Sortilega," the incantations are in English verse; in No. XXXIV. occurs a praise of England, "terra pacis et justitiae"; in No. XCVII. the hermit who got drunk repents and says "anglice":

Whil that I was sobre sinne ne dede I nowht, But in drunkeschipe I dede ye werste that mihten be thowte.

[272] That one in verse, with a mixture of English words. Ha! says the peasant:

Ha thu mi swete bird, ego te comedam.

"Early Mysteries and other Latin poems of the XIIth and XIIIth Centuries," ed. Th. Wright, London, 1838, 8vo, p. 97. _Cf._ G. Paris, "Lai de l'Oiselet," Paris, 1884.

[273] These series of drawings in the margins are like tales without words; several among the most celebrated of the fabliaux are thus represented; among others: the Sacristan and the wife of the Knight; the Hermit who got drunk; a story recalling the adventures of Lazarillo de Tormes (unnoticed by the historians of Spanish fiction), &c. Some drawings of this sort from MS. 10 E iv. in the British Museum are reproduced in "English Wayfaring Life," pp. 21, 28, 405, &c.

[274] "Redi, misera, ad monasterium, quia ego, sub tua specie usque modo officium tuum adimplevi." Wright's "Latin Stories," p. 95. Same story in Barbazan and Meon, "Nouveau Recueil," vol. ii. p. 154: "De la Segretaine qui devint fole au monde."

[275] "Latin Stories," p. 97; French text in Barbazan and Meon, vol. ii. p. 443: "Du larron qui se commandoit a Nostre Dame toutes les fois qu'il aloit embler."

[276] "Latin Stories," p. 114, from the version of the "Gesta Romanorum," compiled in England: "De milite conventionem faciente cum mercatore."

[277] "Ait miles, 'o carissima domina, mihi prae omnibus praedilecta hodie fere vitam amsi; sed cum ad mortem judicari debuissem, intravit subito quidam miles formosus valde, bene militem tam formosum nunquam antea vidi, et me per prudentiam suam non tantum a morte salvavit, sed etiam me ab omni solutione pecuniae liberavit.' Ait puella: 'Ergo ingratus fuisti quod militem ad prandium, quia vitam tuam taliter salvavit, non invitasti.' Ait miles: 'Subito intravit et subito exivit.' Ait puella: 'Si cum jam videres, haberes notitiam ejus?' At ille 'Etiam optime.'" _Ibid._

[278] Born ab. 1120. To him it was that Pope Adrian IV. (Nicholas Breakspeare) delivered the famous bull "Laudabiliter," which gave Ireland to Henry II. Adrian had great friendship for John: "Fatebatur etiam," John wrote somewhat conceitedly, "publice et secreto quod me prae omnibus mortalibus diligebat.... Et quum Romanus pontifex esset, me in propria mensa gaudebat habere convivum, et eundem scyphum et discum sibi et mihi volebat, et faciebat, me renitente, esse communem" ("Metalogicus," in the "Opera Omnia," ed. Giles, vol. v. p. 205). John of Salisbury died in 1180, being then bishop of Chartres, a dignity to which he had been raised, he said, "divina dignatione et meritis Sancti Thomae" (Demimuid, "Jean de Salisbury," 1873, p. 275). The very fine copy of John's "Policraticus," which belonged to Richard de Bury, is now in the British Museum: MS. 13 D iv.

[279] From [Greek: polis] and [Greek: chratein].

[280] "Joannis Saresberiensis ... Opera omnia," ed. Giles, Oxford, 1848, 5 vols. 8vo, "Patres Ecclesiae Anglicanae."

[281] "Ipsum quoque cultum religionis incestat, quod ante conspectum Domini, in ipsis penetralibus sanctuarii, lascivientis vocis luxu, quadam ostentatione sui, muliebribus modis notularum articulorumque caesuris stupentes animulas emollire nituntur. Quum praecinentium et succinentium, canentium et decinentium, praemolles modulationes audieris, Sirenarum concentus credas esse, non hominum, et de vocum facilitate miraberis quibus philomena vel psitaccus, aut si quid sonorius est, modos suos nequeunt coaequare." "Opera," vol. iii. p. 38 (see on this same subject, below, p. 446).

[282] "Quae autem de curialibus nugis dicta sunt, in nullo eorum, sed forte in me aut mei similibus deprehendi; et plane nimis arcta lege constringor, si meipsum et amicos castigare et emendare non licet." "Opera," vol. iv. p. 379 (Maupassant used to put forth in conversation exactly the same plea as an apology for "Bel-Ami.")

[283] "Afflictus namque populus, quasi principis podagram arguit et convicit. Tunc autem totius reipublicae salus incolumis praeclaraque erit, si superiora membra si impendant inferioribus et inferiora superioribus pari jure respondeant." "Policraticus"; "Opera," vol. iv. p. 52.

[284] Born probably in Herefordshire, studied at Paris, fulfilled various diplomatic missions, was justice in eyre 1173, canon of St. Paul's 1176, archdeacon of Oxford, 1197. He spent his last years in his living of Westbury on the Severn, and died about 1210.

[285] "Hunc in curia regis Henrici libellum raptim annotavi schedulis." "Gualteri Mapes de Nugis Curialium Distinctiones quinque," ed. Th. Wright, London, Camden Society, 1850, 4to, Dist. iv., Epilogus, p. 140.

[286] For example, _ibid._ iii. 2, "De Societate Sadii et Galonis," Dialogue between three women, Regina, Lais, Ero, pp. 111 ff.

[287] "Galtere, veni foras!--Galterus autem, quia non audivit vocem Jhesus, non habuit aures Lazari et non venit." "De Nugis," p. 42.

[288] "De Nugis," Dist. iv.

[289] Th. Wright, "The Latin poems commonly attributed to Walter Mapes," London, Camden Society, 1841, 4to (_cf._ "Romania," vol. vii. p. 94):

Meum est propositum in taberna mori; Vinum sit appositum morientis ori, Ut dicant cum venerint angelorum chori: Deus sit propitius huic potatori.

("Confessio Goliae.")

On "Goliardois" clerks, see Bedier, "les Fabliaux," Paris, 1893, 8vo, pp. 348 ff.

[290] In his prefatory letter to king John, Gerald says that "vir ille eloquio clarus, W. Mapus, Oxoniensis archidiaconus," used to tell him that he had derived some fame and benefits from his witticisms and sayings, "dicta," which were in the common idiom, that is in French, "communi quippe idiomate prolata." "Opera," Rolls, vol. v. p. 410.

[291] Map, however, never claimed the authorship of this work. The probability of his being the author rests mainly on the allusion discovered by Ward in the works of Hue de Rotelande, a compatriot and contemporary of Map, who seems to point him out as having written the "Lancelot." "Catalogue of Romances," 1883, vol. i. pp. 734 ff.

[292] Alexander, of Hales, Gloucestershire, lectured at Paris, d. 1245; wrote a "Summa" at the request of Innocent II.: "Alexandri Alensis Angli, Doctoris irrefragabilis ... universae theologiae Summa," Cologne, 1622, 4 vols. fol. He deals in many of his "Quaestiones" with subjects, usual then in theological books, but which seem to the modern reader very strange indeed. A large number of sermons and pious treatises were also written in Latin during this period, by Aelred of Rievaulx for example, and by others: "Beati Ailredi Rievallis abbatis Sermones" (and other works) in Migne's "Patrologia," vols. xxxii. and cxcv.

[293] Studied at Oxford, then at Paris, where he taught with great success, d. at Cologne in 1308. "Opera Omnia," ed. Luc Wadding, 1639, 12 vols. fol. See, on him, "Histoire Litteraire de la France," vol. xxiv. p. 404.

[294] "Pantagruel," II., chap. 7.

[295] The works of Ockham (fourteenth century) have not been collected. See his "Summa totius logicae," ed. Walker, 1675, 8vo, his "Compendium errorum Johannis papae," Lyons, 1495, fol., &c.

[296] Born in Somersetshire, studied at Oxford and Paris, d. about 1294; wrote "Opus majus," "Opus minus," "Opus tertium." See "Opus majus ad Clementem papam," ed. Jebb, London, 1733, fol.; "Opera inedita," ed. Brewer, Rolls, 1859. Many curious inventions are alluded to in this last volume: diving bells, p. 533; gunpowder, p. 536; oarless and very swift boats; carriages without horses running at an extraordinary speed: "Item currus possunt fieri ut sine animali moveantur impetu inaestimabili," p. 533. On the causes of errors, that is authority, habit, &c., see "Opus majus," I.

[297] Born at Chichester ab. 1290, taught at Oxford, became chaplain to Edward III. and Archbishop of Canterbury. "De Causa Dei contra Pelagium et de virtute causarum ad suos Mertonenses, Libri III.," London, 1618, fol.

[298] Conclusion of chap. i. Book I.: "Contra Aristotelem, astruentem mundum non habuisse principium temporale et non fuisse creatum, nec praesentem generationem hominum terminandam, neque mundum nec statum mundi ullo tempore finiendum."

[299] "Joannis Anglici praxis medica Rosa Anglica dicta," Augsbourg, 1595, 2 vols. 4to. Vol. i. p. 496.

[300] Concerning Bartholomaeus Anglicus, sometimes but wrongly called de Glanville, see the notice by M. Delisle ("Histoire Litteraire de la France," vol. xxx. pp. 334 ff.), who has demonstrated that he lived in the thirteenth and not in the fourteenth century. It is difficult to admit with M. Delisle that Bartholomew was not English. As we know that he studied and lived on the Continent the most probable explanation of his surname is that he was born in England. See also his praise of England, xv-14. His "De Proprietatibus" (Francfort, 1609, 8vo, many other editions) was translated into English by Trevisa, in 1398, in French by Jean Corbichon, at the request of the wise king Charles V., in Spanish and in Dutch. To the same category of writers belongs Gervase of Tilbury in Essex, who wrote, also on the Continent, between 1208 and 1214, his "Otia imperialia," where he gives an account of chaos, the creation, the wonders of the world, &c.; unpublished but for a few extracts given by Stevenson in his "Radulphi de Coggeshall Chronicon," 1875, 8vo, Rolls, pp. 419 ff.

[301] There are eighteen in the National Library, Paris. One of the finest is the MS. 15 E ii. and iii. in the British Museum (French translation) with beautiful miniatures in the richest style; _in fine_: "Escript par moy Jo Duries et finy a Bruges le XXVe jour de May, anno 1482."

[302] On Vacarius, see "Magister Vacarius primus juris Romani in Anglia professor ex annalium monumentis et opere accurate descripto illustratus," by C. F. C. Wenck, Leipzig, 1820, 8vo.

[303] "Tractatus de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae," finished about 1187 (ed. Wilmot and Rayner, London, 1780, 8vo); was perhaps the work of his nephew, Hubert Walter, but written under his inspiraton.

[304] "Dialogus de Scaccario," written 23 Henry II., text in Stubbs, "Select Charters," Oxford, 1876, p. 168.

[305] "Henrici de Bracton de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliae, Libri V.," ed. Travers Twiss, Rolls, 1878 ff., 6 vols. 8vo. Bracton adopts some of the best known among the definitions and maxims of Roman law: "Filius haeres legittimus est quando nuptiae demonstrant," vol. ii. p. 18; a treasure is "quaedam vetus depositio pecuniae vel alterius metalli cujus non extat modo memoria," vol. ii. p. 230. On "Bracton and his relation to Roman law," see C. Gueterbock, translated with notes by Brinton Coxe, Philadelphia, 1866, 8vo.

[306] By Gilbert de Thornton, ab. 1292; by the author of "Fleta," ab. the same date.

[307] The loose leaf was then removed, and a new one placed instead, in view of the year to come: "In fine vero anni non quicumque voluerit sed cui injunctum fuerit, quod verius et melius censuerit ad posteritatis notitiam transmittendum, in corpore libri succincta brevitate describat; et tunc veter scedula subtracta nova imponatur." "Annales Monastici", ed. Luard, Rolls, 1864-9, 5 vols. 8vo, vol. iv. p. 355. Annals of the priory of Worcester; preface. Concerning the "Scriptoria" in monasteries and in particular the "Scriptorium" of St. Albans, see Hardy, "Descriptive Catalogue," 1871, Rolls, vol. iii. pp. xi. ff.

[308] "Sedens igitur in claustro pluries fatigatus, sensu habetato, virtutibus frustratus, pessimis cogitationibus saepe sauciatus, tum propter lectionum longitudinem ac orationum lassitudinem, propter vanas jactantias et opera pessima in saeculo praehabita...." He has recourse, as a cure, to historical studies "ad rogationem superiorum meorum." "Eulogium historiarum ab orbe condito usque ad A.D. 1366," by a monk of Malmesbury, ed. Haydon, Rolls, 1858, 2 vols. 8vo, vol. i. p. 2.

[309] "Orderici Vitalis Angligenae Historiae ecclesiasticae, Libri XIII.," ed. Le Prevost, Paris, 1838-55, 5 vols. 8vo. Vital was born in England, but lived and wrote in the monastery of St. Evroult in Normandy, where he had been sent "as in exile," and where, "as did St. Joseph in Egypt, he heard spoken a language to him unknown."

[310] "Eadmeri Historia novorum in Anglia," ed. Martin Rule, Rolls, 1884, 8vo; in the same volume: "De vita and conversatione Anselmi." Eadmer died ab. 1144.

[311] "Giraldi Cambrensis Opera," ed. Brewer (and others), 1861-91, 8 vols. 8vo, Rolls. Gerald was born in the castle of Manorbeer, near Pembroke, of which ruins subsist. He was the son of William de Barry, of the great and warlike family that was to play an important part in Ireland. His mother was Angareth, grand-daughter of Rhys ap Theodor, a Welsh prince. He studied at Paris, became chaplain to Henry II., sojourned in Ireland, helped Archbishop Baldwin to preach the crusade in Wales, and made considerable but fruitless efforts to be appointed bishop of St. Davids. At length he settled in peace and died there, ab. 1216; his tomb, greatly injured, is still to be seen in the church. Principal works, all in Latin (see above, p. 117); "De Rebus a se gestis;" "Gemma Ecclesiastica;" "De Invectionibus, Libri IV.;" "Speculum Ecclesiae;" "Topographia Hibernica;" "Expugnatio Hibernica;" "Itinerarium Kambriae;" "Descriptio Kambriae;" "De Principis Instructione."

[312] "Willelmi Malmesbiriensis Monachi, Gesta Regum Anglorum atque Historia Novella," ed. T. D. Hardy, London, English Historical Society, 1840, 2 vols. 8vo; or the edition of Stubbs, Rolls, 1887 ff.; "De Gestis Pontificum Anglorum," ed. Hamilton, Rolls, 1870. William seems to have written between 1114 and 1123 and to have died ab. 1142, or shortly after.

[313] "Henrici Archidiaconi Huntendunensis Historia Anglorum ... from A.C. 55 to A.D. 1154," ed. T. Arnold, Rolls, 1879, 8vo. Henry writes much more as a dilettante than William of Malmesbury; he seems to do it mainly to please himself; clever at verse writing (see above, p. 177), he introduces in his Chronicle Latin poems of his own composition. His chronology is vague and faulty.

[314] "De Annulo statuae commendato," "Gesta," vol. i. p. 354.

[315] "Matthaei Parisiensis ... Chronica Majora," ed. H. R. Luard, Rolls, 1872 ff., 7 vols.; "Historia Anglorum, sive ut vulgo dicitur Historia Minor," ed. Madden, Rolls, 1866 ff., 3 vols. Matthew was English; his surname of "Paris" or "the Parisian" meant, perhaps, that he had studied at Paris, or perhaps that he belonged to one of the families of Paris which existed then in England (Jessopp, "Studies by a Recluse," London, 1893, p. 46). He was received into St. Albans monastery on 1217, and was sent on a mission to King Hacon in Norway in 1248-9. Henry III., a weak king but an artist born, valued him greatly. He died in 1259. The oldest part of Matthew's chronicle is founded upon the work of Roger de Wendover, another monk of St. Albans, who died in 1236.

[316] So says Walsingham; see Madden's preface to the "Historia Anglorum," vol. iii. p. xlviii.

[317] MS. Nero D i. in the British Museum, fol. 22, 23, 146, 169. The attribution of these drawings to Matthew has been contested: their authenticity seems, however, probable. See, _contra_, Hardy, vol. iii. of his "Descriptive Catalogue." See also the MS. Royal 14 C vii., with maps and itineraries; a great Virgin on a throne, with a monk at her feet: "Fret' Mathias Parisiensis," fol. 6; fine draperies with many folds, recalling those in the album of Villard de Honecourt.

[318] Year 1255: "Missus est in Angliam quidam elephas quem rex Francorum pro magno munere dedit regi Angliae.... Nec credimus alium unquam visum fuisse in Anglia." "Abbreviatio Chronicorum," following the "Historia Anglorum" in Madden's edition, vol. iii. p. 344.

[319] "Chronica Majora," vol. iii. pp. 162 ff. The story of Cartaphilus was already in Roger de Wendover, who was also present in the monastery when the Armenian bishop came. The details on the ark are added by Matthew.

[320] "Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden, monachi Cestrensis ... with the English translation of John Trevisa," ed. Babington and Lumby, Rolls, 1865 ff., 8 vols. Higden died about 1363. See below, p. 406.

[321] See below, p. 405.

[322] A great many other English chroniclers wrote in Latin, and among their number: Florence of Worcester, Simeon of Durham, Fitzstephen, the pseudo Benedict of Peterborough, William of Newburgh, Roger de Hoveden (d. ab. 1201) in the twelfth century; Gervase of Canterbury, Radulph de Diceto, Roger de Wendover, Radulph de Coggeshall, John of Oxenede, Bartholomew de Cotton, in the thirteenth; William Rishanger, John de Trokelowe, Nicolas Trivet, Richard of Cirencester, in the fourteenth. A large number of chronicles are anonymous. Most of those works have been published by the English Historical Society, the Society of Antiquaries, and especially by the Master of the Rolls in the great collection: "The Chronicles and Memorials of Great Britain and Ireland ... published under the direction of the Master of the Rolls," London, 1857 ff., in progress. See also the "Descriptive Catalogue of materials relating to the History of Great Britain and Ireland, to the end of the reign of Henry VII." by Sir T. D. Hardy, Rolls, 1862-6, 3 vols. 8vo.

[323] The contrast between the time when Richard writes and the days of his youth, when he studied at Paris, is easy to explain. The Hundred Years' War had begun, and well could the bishop speak of the decay of studies in the capital, "ubi tepuit, immo fere friguit zelus scholae tam nobilis, cujus olim radii lucem dabant universis angulis orbis terrae.... Minerva mirabilis nationes hominum circuire videtur.... Jam Athenas deseruit, jam a Roma recessit, jam Parisius praeterivit, jam ad Britanniam, insularum insignissimam, quin potius microcosmum accessit feliciter." "Philobiblon," chap. ix. p. 89. In the same words nearly, but with a contrary intent, Count Cominges, ambassador to England, assured King Louis XIV. that "the arts and sciences sometimes leave a country to go and honour another with their presence. Now they have gone to France, and scarcely any vestiges of them have been left here," April 2, 1663. "A French Ambassador at the Court of Charles II.," 1892, p. 205.