Soon afterwards, the queen is hard pressed
by a neighbouring duke, and the hero appears once more to fight
her battles, this time disguised as a fool.
by a neighbouring duke, and the hero appears once more to fight
her battles, this time disguised as a fool.
Cambridge History of English Literature - 1908 - v01
The hero's career continues to be as
eventful as ever; but he is finally induced to turn towards home,
where he succeeds in regaining his inheritance, and is recognised
as a worthy knight by the reigning king Edgar.
In attempting to estimate the contribution made by these four
works to Middle English romance, it must be remembered that,
although they originate ultimately from the England of the
vikings, of Aethelstan and Edgar, they have all been touched
with later foreign influences. In them may be perceived, how-
ever, an undeveloped chivalry, as well as reminiscences of Old
English life and thought. The code of chivalry is as yet unfor-
mulated. In Havelok we see the simple ideal of righting the
wrong. In Horn and Guy of Warwick is perceptible a refinement
of love which makes for asceticism; but the love details are not, in
general, elaborated in accordance with later chivalrous ideals.
E. L. I. CH. XIV.
20
## p. 306 (#326) ############################################
306 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
Rymenhild and Josian both woo and are wooed; but they lack
the violence of Carolingian heroines. In Felice alone do we find
traces of that scrupulous niceness encouraged in the era of the
courts of love. With regard to the existence of earlier English
reminiscences, in both Horn and Havelok can be seen the joy in
descriptions of the sea characteristic of Old English verse. Both Guy
and Beves, again, have their dragons to encounter after the fashion
of Beowulf. The marvellous, which, to some extent, appears in
Havelok, is of the kind found in Germanic folk-lore; it is distinct
in its essence from the product of Celtic fancy. The plebeian
elements in the same work, which embody a detailed description
of humble life, and which are in striking contrast to the mono-
tonous aristocratic colouring of the romance elsewhere, witness,
undoubtedly, to a primitive pre-Conquest community. And, last,
Guy's great fight with Colbrand breathes the motive of patriotism
-the motive of Byrhtnoth-rather than the religious zeal which
fired crusading heroes in their single combats.
The English medieval romance levied contributions also upon
the literature of antiquity. Such levies were due neither to
crusading zeal, which loved to recall Charlemagne's great fights
against Saracen hosts, nor to the impulse which clung tightly to
native history and homespun stories. They were, rather, the out-
come of a cherished conceit based on a piece of ingenious etymology,
according to which Englishmen, as inhabitants of Britain, held
themselves to be of Trojan descent in virtue of Brutus. In this
way did the literature of antiquity suggest itself as, to some extent,
an appropriate field for the business of romancing. The Gest
Hystoriale of the Destruction of Troy and King Alisaunder may
be taken as typical of this class. The former of these consists
of an epitome of the well-known story with, however, many
modifications characteristic of medieval genius. It sets forth the
antique world interpreted in terms of medievalism; Greek warfare,
Greek customs and Greek religion alike appearing in the garb of
the Middle Ages. And, together with these changes, were tacitly
introduced fairy reminiscences and magical details. But, most
interesting of all, in the Troy narrative, are those elements of the
story of Troilus and Briseida taken over from Benoît de Ste More,
and subsequently moulded into one of the world's greatest stories.
In King Alisaunder we see fashioned the historical and legend-
ary hero, his career being supplemented with hosts of fanciful stories
drawn from the east. His birth is alike mysterious and marvellous.
## p. 307 (#327) ############################################
Richard Cour de Lion 307
His youth and manhood are passed in prodigious undertakings.
He tames the fiery Bucephalus. He captures Tyre and burns
Thebes. Darius falls before him. He advances through Persia and
onwards to the Ganges, conquering, on his way, the great Porrus
of India. His homeward journey is a progress through wonderland.
All the magic of the east lies concentrated in his path; he passes
by crowned snakes and mysterious trees, and beholds, in the
distance, cliffs sparkling with diamonds. He is ultimately poisoned
by a friend and honourably buried in a tomb of gold.
The ruling motive of these classical romances, as compared
with others of their kind, is clearly that of depicting, on a large scale,
the heroic element in humanity and of pointing out the glories of
invincible knighthood. They concern themselves, not with chivalrous
love, but with chivalrous valour and knightly accomplishments.
Their aim is to point to the more masculine elements of medieval
chivalry. The joy of battle is everywhere articulate-not least so
in the picturesque movements of warlike bodies, and in the varied
sounds of the battlefield. The method of developing this motive
is, for the most part, by bringing the west into touch with the
east. The treasuries of Babylonian and antique fable are ran-
sacked to glorify the theme of warlike magnificence. The wider
mental horizon and the taste for wonders which attracted con-
temporaries in Mandeville's Travels are here enlisted in the work
of romance.
Closely akin to the Alexander romance is Richard Cour de
Lion, which may, therefore, be considered here, though its story is
not of either eastern or classical origin. The scheme in both is much
the same. Richard's birth is mysterious as was Alexander's. In
early manhood Richard wrenches out the lion's heart; Alexander
tames Bucephalus. Both march to the east to perform great
things : both are presented as types of valorous greatness. In
the romance, Richard appears as the son of Henry II and the
beautiful enchantress Cassodorien. He is imprisoned in Germany
as the result of an escapade on his way home from the Holy Land,
and it is here that he tears out the heart of a lion set loose in his
cell. The proclamation of a general crusade soon afterwards
appeals to Richard and he joins Philip of France on his way to
the east. The French king is consistently treacherous and jealous,
while Richard is no less hasty and passionate, and, in consequence,
ruptures are frequent. After avenging an insult received from
Cyprus, Richard hastens to Syria, where fight succeeds fight
with great regularity, and the Saracens under Saladin are gradually
ood Richo birth is origin. The
2042
## p. 308 (#328) ############################################
308 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
discomfited. At last a truce of three years is arranged, at which
point the romancer is content to conclude. The romance is one of
the most stirring of the whole group. It deals with the crusades;
but its central theme, like that of the Alexander saga, is the glorifica-
tion of the romance of war, the exaltation of the fighting hero. It is,
moreover, fiercely patriotic. Scorn is heaped on the braggadocio of
the French, and the drawing of Philip's character is far from flatter-
ing. On the other hand, Cour de Lion's haughty arrogance is the
glory of Englishmen; on his side fight St George and big battalions
of angels. His humour appears as grim as his blows. He feasts
on Saracens and provides the same dish for Saracen ambassadors
The ideal man of action, as here depicted, is one in whom the
elements are mixed. He is by no means deficient in knightly
instincts and courtesy; but, mingled with these, are coarse-grained
characteristics. He is rude and blunt, forceful and careless of
restraint-all of which traits represent the English contribution
to the heroic picture.
Oriental fable appears in English romance with other effects
than were obtained in the work of King Alisaunder. The more
voluptuous qualities of the east, for instance, are reproduced in
Flores and Blancheflour and result in a style of romance tolerably
distinct. In The Seven Sages of Rome, again, the story-book is
employed in oriental fashion. The heroine of the first, Blancheflour,
is a Christian princess carried off by the Saracens in Spain and
subsequently educated along with their young prince Flores.
Childish friendship develops into love, and Flores is promptly
removed—but not before his lady has given him a magic ring
which will tarnish when the giver is in danger. Danger soon
threatens her in the shape of false accusation; but this peril, being
revealed to Flores by means of his ring, is duly averted, though
subsequent treachery succeeds in despatching the princess to
Egypt as a slave. Thither Flores pursues her; and, by dint of
bribery and stratagem, he succeeds in entering the seraglio
where she is detained. The inevitable discovery follows, but the
anger of the emir having vanished on his learning all the
circumstances, the trials of the lovers come to a pleasant end.
In this work the central theme is, once again, that of love;
but, in the manner of treatment, there are visible certain
departures. According to western standards, the tone is, in fact,
somewhat sentimental. It is felt that soul-stirring passions are
not involved; the whole seems wanting in the quality of hardihood.
## p. 309 (#329) ############################################
Flores and Blancheflour
309
Flores, for instance, swoons in your true sentimental fashion. He
finds heart's-ease in exile by tracing his lady's name in flower-
designs. He wins his cause by dint of magic and persuasion rather
than by the strength of his own right arm. An oriental colouring is
also noticeable in the sensuous descriptions of garden and seraglio,
as well as in the part played by the magic ring. We have here
material and motives which enlarged the domain of the medieval
romance, and which appealed to Chaucer when he set about
writing his Squire's Tale. In The Seven Sages of Rome other
aspects of the east are duly represented. Diocletian's wicked
queen, failing in her attempt to ensnare her stepson Florentine,
viciously accuses him of her own fell designs. Whereupon,
Florentine's seven tutors plead on his behalf by relating seven
tales of the perfidy of woman. The queen, as plaintiff, relates
a corresponding number concerning the wickedness of counsellors.
The tales are told, the queen is unmasked and duly punished.
In an age dedicated by the west to the worship of women we
have here represented the unflattering estimate of womankind
held by the east. The framework and the device of a series of
tales is, likewise, oriental, and so is the didactic tendency which
underlies the whole. The aim is to set forth the dangers to which
youth is subject, not only from the deceit of men, but, also, from
the wiles of women.
Of far greater importance, however, than any of the foregoing
influences is that derived from Celtic sources. The stories of
Arthur, of Tristram and Gawain, while, in response to formative
influences of the time, they present certain details in common with
the other romances, have yet a distinct atmosphere, fresh motives
and new colouring. Points of similarity exist, but with a difference.
The incessant combats of the Carolingian saga find a counterpart
in the “derring-doe" of Arthurian heroes. As in Horn and
Havelok, the scene in the Celtic romances is laid in Britain; but
the background is Celtic rather than English. Again, just
as King Alisaunder and Richard Coeur de Lion are magni-
ficats of splendid heroic figures, so the glorification of Arthur is
the persistent theme of this Celtic work. And, last, the love-strain
and the magic which came from the east, and were embodied in
Flores and Blancheflour, correspond, in some measure, with Celtic
passion and Celtic mysticism. For such points of contact the
spirit of the age must be held accountable : for such differences as
exist, individual and national genius.
## p. 310 (#330) ############################################
310
Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
The effect of the Celtic genius upon English romance, if, indeed,
such a statement may be ventured upon, was to reveal the passions,
to extend the fancy and to inculcate sensibility. The Celtic element
revealed love as a passion in all its fulness, a passion laden with
possibilities, mysterious and awful in power and effect. It opened
up avenues to a fairy-land peopled with elvish forms and lit by
strange lights. It pointed to an exalted chivalry and lofty ideals,
to a courtesy which was the outcome of a refinement of sentiment.
In the romance of Sir Tristram is embodied the Celtic revela-
tion of love. The English poem is based on the version of Thomas,
and is distinct from that of Béroul. This story of “death-marked”
affection is well known : how Tristram and the fair Iseult are
fatally united by the magic love-potion, quaffed in spite of
Iseult's approaching union with Mark of Cornwall; how their
love persists in spite of honour and duty; how Tristram marries
Iseult of the White Hand and comes to lie wounded in Britanny;
how his wife, distracted with jealousy, falsely announces the ominous
black sail coming over the seas; and how the fair Iseult glides
through the hall and expires on the corpse of her former lover. Here
we feel that the tragedy of love has been remorselessly enacted.
It appears to us as a new and irresistible force, differing alike
from the blandishments of the east and the crudeness of the north.
A sense of mystery and gloom enfolds it all like a misty veil over
cairn and cromlech. The problem is as enduring as life itself.
Enchantment is suggested by means of the love-potion, yet the
weakness is mortal, as, indeed, is the sombre climax. Passion
descends to the level of reality, and the comfortable medieval ending
is sternly eschewed. Love is conducted by neither code nor nice
theory: it moves, simple, sensuous, passionate, to its appointed end,
and relentlessly reveals the poetry of life.
In the romances which deal with the relations between mortal
and fairy we find elements of the richest fancy. Here and else-
where, in this Celtic section, are discovered landscapes and scenes
which charm the imagination with their glamour and light. Fays
come and go, wrapped in ethereal beauty, and horrible spirit-shapes
appear to the accompaniment of mad symphonies of the elements.
Knights of faërie emerge out of weird forbidden tracts, strange
enchantments dictating or following their various movements.
Mystic commands lightly broken entail tragic penalties, and
mortals become the sport of elvish visitants.
Of the romances which relate to love-passages between mortal
and fairy, Sir Launfal, Sir Orfeo and Emare may be taken as
## p. 311 (#331) ############################################
Celtic Romances
311
types. In Sir Launfal, the hero receives love-favours from a
beautiful fay, but breaks his bond by carelessly betraying his
secret to the queen. He is condemned to death and abandoned
by the fay, who, however, relents in time and, riding to Arthur's
court, succeeds in carrying the knight off to the Isle of Avalon.
Sir Orfeo may be briefly described as a Celtic adaptation of the
familiar classical story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Queen Heurodys
is carried off into fairyland, in spite of all that human efforts can
do King Orfeo follows her in despair, as a minstrel, but his
wonderful melodies at last succeed in leading her back to the
haunts of men. In Emare we have a beautifully told story of the
Constance type, with the addition of certain mystical elements.
The heroine is a mysterious maiden of unearthly beauty who is cast
off by her unnatural father and drifts to the shores of Wales where
she wins Sir Cador's love. After the marriage, Sir Cador goes
abroad, and the young wife is once more turned adrift by an in-
triguing mother-in-law. She reaches Rome, and there, in due
course, she is happily discovered by the grief-stricken Cador.
Other romances relate the deeds of the offspring of fairy and mortal
union as, for instance, Sir Degare and Sir Gowther. The former
is an account of the son of a fairy knight and a princess of Britain.
He is abandoned in infancy by the princess, who, however, leaves
with him a pair of magic gloves which will fit no hands but hers.
The child in time becomes a knight, and his prowess in the lists
renders him eligible for the hand of the princess, his mother. By
means of the gloves, however, they learn their real relationship;
whereupon Sir Degare relinquishes his claim and succeeds in the
filial task of re-uniting his parents. In Sir Gowther, the hero is the
son of a “fiendish” knight and a gentle lady whom he had betrayed.
The boy, as was predicted, proved to be of a most savage tempera-
ment, until the offending Adam was whipped out of him by means
of self-inflicted penance. He then wins the love of an earls
daughter by glorious achievements in the lists, and piously builds
an abbey to commemorate his conversion.
It is in the Arthurian romances and, more particularly, in those
relating to Sir Gawain, that we find the loftier ideals of chivalry
set forth. Gawain is depicted as the knight of honour and courtesy,
of loyalty and self-sacrifice. Softer manners and greater magna-
nimity are grafted upon the earlier knighthood. Self-restraint
becomes more and more a knightly virtue. The combats are not
less fierce, but vainglorious boasting gives way to moods of humility.
Victory is followed by noble concern for the vanquished. Passing
## p. 312 (#332) ############################################
312 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
over Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight, which is treated else-
where, we find in Golagros and Gawane these knightly elements
plainly visible. The rudeness of Sir Kay, here and elsewhere, is
devised as a foil to the courtesy of Gawain. Arthur in Tuscany
sends Sir Kay to ask for quarters in a neighbouring castle. His
rude, presumptuous bearing meets with refusal, though, when
Gawain arrives, the request is readily acceded to. The domains
of Golagros are next approached. He is an aggressive knight of
large reputation, whom Arthur makes it his business forthwith to
subdue. A combat is arranged, in which Gawain proves victor;
whereupon the noble Arthurian not only grants the life of the
defiant Golagros, but spares his feelings by returning to his castle
as if he himself were the vanquished. Matters are afterwards
explained, and Golagros, conquered alike by arms and courtesy,
becomes duly enrolled in Arthur's train. In the Awntyrs [Adven-
tures) of Arthure at the Terne Wathelyne we find something of the
same elements, together with an exhortation to moral living. The
romance deals with two incidents alleged to have occurred while
Arthur was hunting near Carlisle. The first, however, is an
adaptation of the Trentals of St Gregory. A ghastly figure is
represented as emerging from the Tarn, and appearing before
Guinevere and Gawain. It is Guinevere's mother in the direst
torments. The queen thereupon makes a vow as to her future
life, and promises, meanwhile, to have masses sung for her mother's
soul. The second incident is of a more conventional kind, and
deals with the fight between Gawain and Galleroun.
Ywain and Gawain is another romance which embodies much
that is characteristic of Arthurian chivalry. Ywain sets out on a
certain quest from Arthur's court. He defeats a knight near the
fountain of Broceliande, pursues him to his castle and marries
Laudine, mistress of that place. After further adventures in love and
war, in most of which he has the company of a friendly lion, he falls
in with Gawain and, ignorant of each other's identity, they engage
in combat. The fight is indecisive, and each courteously concedes
to the other the victory-an exchange of compliments which is
speedily followed by a joyful recognition. The Wedding of Sir
Gawain, again, points to loyalty and honour, as involving supreme
self-sacrifice. It relates how Gawain, to save Arthur's life, under-
takes to marry the loathsome dame Ragnell. His noble unselfish-
ness, however, is not unrewarded: the dame is subsequently
transformed into the most beauteous of her kind. Libeaus
Desconus, the story of Gyngalyn, Gawain's son, is constructed
## p. 313 (#333) ############################################
The Gawain Cycle
313
on rather conventional lines. The fair unknown has several
adventures with giants and others. He visits a fairy castle, where
he meets with an enchantress, and rescues a lady transformed
into a dreadful serpent, who, afterwards, however, becomes his
wife. The scene of the Avowing of Arthur is once more placed
near Carlisle. Arthur is hunting with Sir Gawain, Sir Kay and
Sir Baldwin, when all four undertake separate vows. Arthur is
to capture single-handed a ferocious boar; Sir Kay to fight all
who oppose him. The king is successful; but Sir Kay falls before
a knight who is carrying off a beautiful maiden. The victor, how-
ever, is afterwards overcome in a fight with Gawain, and then
ensues a significant contrast in the matter of behaviours. Sir Kay
sustains his earlier reputation by cruelly taunting the beaten
knight; while Sir Gawain, on the other hand, mindful of the claims
of chivalry, is studiously kind and considerate towards his fallen
foe. The riming Mort Arthur, and the alliterative work of
the same name, deal with the close of Arthur's life. In the first
occurs the story of the maid of Ascolot, and her fruitless love for
the noble Lancelot. The narrative is instinct with the pathos
of love, and here, as in Tristram, the subtlety of the treatment
reveals further possibilities of the love theme. Lancelot is, more-
over, depicted as Guinevere's champion. The queen is under
condemnation, but is rescued by Lancelot, who endures, in con-
sequence, a siege in the Castle of Joyous Garde. The end of the
Arthurian story begins to be visible in the discord thus intro-
duced between Lancelot and Gawain, Arthur and Modred. The
alliterative Morte Arthure is more seriously historical. Arthur
is represented as returning home from his wars with Lucius on
hearing of Modred's treachery. He fights the traitor, but is
mortally wounded, and is borne to Glastonbury, where he is given
a magnificent burial.
In addition to the romances already mentioned as representative
in some measure of definite influences at work, there yet remain
certain others which call for notice. We have, in the first place,
a group of some five romances which may be considered together as
studies of knightly character. They are works which may be said to
deal, incidentally perhaps, with the building up of the perfect knight
and Christian hero, though anything like psychological treatment
is, of course, entirely absent. In Ipomedon, we see the knight as
a gallant if capricious lover. Marriage having been proposed
between young Ipomedon, prince of Apulia, and the beautiful
## p. 314 (#334) ############################################
314 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
queen of Calabria, the former determines to woo for himself.
He arrives incognito at the court of the queen, wins her favour
by manly exploits, and then departs somewhat capriciously. He
is, however, induced to return on hearing that a tournament is
to be held of which the queen herself is to be the prize. But,
again, his conduct is strange. He loudly proclaims his dislike for
boisterous tournaments, and ostentatiously sets out on hunting
expeditions on the days of the contests. But he actually
goes to a neighbouring hermitage, whence he issues to the
tournament, clad, on successive days, in red, white and black
armour-a favourite medieval method of disguise adopted by
Sir Gowther and others. He carries all before him and then
vanishes as mysteriously as ever, without claiming his prize or
revealing his identity.
Soon afterwards, the queen is hard pressed
by a neighbouring duke, and the hero appears once more to fight
her battles, this time disguised as a fool. It is only after further
adventures, when he feels he has fooled to the top of his bent,
that he declares his love with a happy result. In this stirring
romance we see the knight-errant in quest of love. The assumed
slothfulness and fondness for disguise were frequent attributes
of the medieval hero: the one added interest to actual exploits,
the other was an assurance that the love of the well-born was
accepted on his own individual merits.
In the beautiful romance of Amis and Amiloun we have friend-
ship set forth as a knightly virtue. It is depicted as an all-absorbing
quality which involves, if necessary, the sacrifice of both family and
conscience. Amis and Amiloun are two noble foster-brothers, the
medieval counterparts of Orestes and Pylades, much alike in ap-
pearance, whose lives are indissolubly linked together. Amiloun
generously, but surreptitiously, takes the place of Amis in a trial by
combat, for which piece of unselfishness, with the deception involved
in it, he is, subsequently, visited with the scourge of leprosy. Some
time afterwards, Amis finds his friend in pitiable plight, but fails, at
first, to grasp his identity. It is only after a dramatic scene that
the discovery is made, and then Amis, grief-stricken, proceeds to
remove his friend's leprosy by the sacrifice of his own children.
But such a sacrifice is not permitted to be irrevocable. When
Amis and his wife Belisante go to view their slaughtered children,
they are found to be merely sleeping. The sacrifice had been one
upon which the gods themselves threw incense. The romance, as
it stands, is one of the most pathetic and elevating of the whole series.
Knightly love and valour were eloquent themes of the
## p. 315 (#335) ############################################
The Squire of Low Degree 315
medieval romance : in Amis and Amiloun, the beauty of friend-
ship is no less nobly treated. In Sir Cleges, the knightly character
is further developed by the inculcation of charity, wit and shrewd-
ness. The story is simply, but picturesquely, told. The hero is
a knight who is reduced to poverty by reckless charity. When
his fortunes are at their lowest ebb he finds a cherry-tree
in his garden laden with fruit, though snow is on the ground and
the season is yuletide. With this goodly find he sets out to king
Uther at Cardiff, in the hope of restoring his fallen fortunes; but
court officials bar his way until he has promised to divide amongst
them all his reward. The king is gratified, and Cleges is asked
to name his reward. He asks for twelve strokes, which the
officials, in accordance with the bargain, duly receive, to the
unbounded delight of an appreciative court. The identity of
the knight then becomes known and his former charity is suitably
recognised.
The theme of Sir Isumbras is that of Christian humility, the
story itself being an adaptation of the legend of St Eustace. Sir
Isumbras is a knight who, through pride, falls from his high estate
by the will of Providence. He is severely stricken; his posses-
sions, his children and, lastly, his wife, are taken away; and he
himself becomes a wanderer. After much privation nobly endured,
he has learnt his lesson and arrives at the court of a queen, who
proves to be his long-lost wife. His children are then miraculously
restored and he resumes once more his exalted rank.
The Squire of Low Degree is a pleasant romance which does
not belie an attractive title. Its theme suggests the idea of
the existence of knightly character in those of low estate, a
sentiment which had appealed to a conquered English people
in the earlier Havelok. The humble squire in the story wins the
affection of “the king's daughter of Hungary,” as well as her
promise to wed when he shall have become a distinguished knight.
An interfering and treacherous steward is righteously slain by the
squire, who then suffers imprisonment, and the king's daughter,
who supposes her lover dead, is thereby reduced to the direst
straits. She refuses consolation, though the king categorically
reminds her of much that is pleasant in life and draws up, in fact,
an interesting list of medieval delights, its feasts, its finery, its
sports and its music. Persuasion failing, the king is obliged to relent.
The squire is released and ventures abroad on knightly quest. He
returns, in due course, to claim his own, and a pleasant romance
ends on a pleasant note. The story loses nothing from the manner
## p. 316 (#336) ############################################
316 Metrical Romances, 1200—1500
of its telling ; it is, above all, “mercifully brief. ” Its English origin
and sentiment, no less than its pictures of medieval life, continue
to make this romance one of the most readable of its kind.
Besides these romances which deal, in some sort, with the
knightly character, there are others which embody variations of
the Constance theme, namely, Sir Triamour, Sir Eglamour of
Artois and Torrent of Portugal. Like Emarè, they belong to
the “reunion of kindred” type-a type which appealed to Chaucer
and, still more, to Shakespeare in his latest period. One well-known
romance still calls for notice. This is William of Palerne, a tale of
love and action which embodies the primitive belief in lycanthropy,
according to which certain people were able to assume, at will,
the character and appearance of wolves. The tradition was wide-
spread in Europe, and it still appears from time to time in modern
works dealing with ghouls and vampires. The story relates how
William, prince of Apulia, is saved from a murderous attack by the
aid of a werwolf, who, in reality, is heir to the Spanish throne. The
werwolf swims with the prince across the straits of Messina, and
again renders aid when his protégé is fleeing from Rome with his
love, Melchior. William, subsequently, recovers his royal rights,
and then helps to bring about the restoration to the friendly
werwolf of his human form.
It is striking and, to some extent, characteristic of the age,
that, although the field of English romance was thus wide and
varied, the personality of scarcely a single toiler in that field
has come down to posterity. The anonymity of the work em-
bodied in our ancient cathedrals is a parallel to this, and neither
fact is without its significance. With the Tristram legend is
connected the name of Thomas, a poet of the twelfth century, who
is mentioned by Gottfried of Strassburg in the early thirteenth
century. The somewhat misty but historical Thomas of Erceldoune
has been credited with the composition of a Sir Tristram story,
but this was possibly due to a confusion of the twelfth century
Thomas with his interesting namesake of the succeeding century.
The confusion would be one to which the popular mind was
peculiarly susceptible. Thomas the Rhymer was a romantic
figure credited with prophetical gifts, and a popular tale would
readily be linked with his name, especially as such a process
was consistent with the earlier Thomas tradition as it then
existed.
In the case of three other romances there seem to be certain
grounds for attributing them to a single writer. All three works,
## p. 317 (#337) ############################################
The Age of Romance
317
King Alisaunder, Arthur and Merlin and Richard Cour de Lion,
are, apparently, of much the same date, and alike hail from Kent.
Each is animated by the same purpose—that of throwing on to a
large canvas a great heroic figure; there is also to be found in
each of them a certain sympathy with magic, The handling of
the theme in each case proceeds on similar lines; the close
parallel in the schemes of King Alisaunder and Richard Coeur de
Lion has already been noticed; and the narrative, in each, moves
along in easy animated style. Moreover, similarities of technique
are found in all. The recurrence of similes and comparisons as
well as riming peculiarities in common, suggest the working of
a single mind. In King Alisaunder and Arthur and Merlin
appears the device of beginning the various sections of the nar-
rative with lyric, gnomic, or descriptive lines, presumably to
arouse interest and claim attention. In Richard Coeur de Lion
something of the same tendency is also visible, as when a delight-
ful description of spring is inserted after the gruesome account of
the massacre of a horde of Saracens. All three works betray a joy
in fighting, a joy expressed in vigorous terms. In all is evinced
an ability to seize on the picturesque side of things, whether of
battle or feasting ; Saracens fall "as grass before the scythe";
the helmets of the troops shine “like snow upon the mountains. ”
But if the identity of a common author may thus seem probable,
little or nothing is forthcoming as regards his personality. Certain
coarse details, together with rude humour, seem to suggest a
plebeian pen; and this is, apparently, supported by occasional
references to trades. But nothing certain on the subject can be
stated. The personality of the poet is, at best, but shadowy,
though, undoubtedly, his work is of outstanding merit.
In certain respects these romances may be said to reflect the age
in which they were written. They bear witness in two ways to the
communistic conception of society which then prevailed: first, by
the anonymous character of the writings generally and, secondly,
by the absence of the patriotic note. The individual, from the
communistic standpoint, was but a unit of the nation; the nation,
merely a section of a larger Christendom. The sense of indi-
vidualism, and all that it implied, was yet to be emphasised by a
later renascence. It is, therefore, clear that the anonymity of
the romances, as in the case of the Legendaries and Chronicle,
was, in part, the outcome of such conceptions and notions. The
works represent
The constant servico of the antique world
When service sweat for duty, not for meed.
## p. 318 (#338) ############################################
318 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
And the absence of patriotism from the romances results from the
same conditions: national consciousness was not yet really awakened.
The mental horizon was bounded not by English shores, but by the
limits of the Holy Roman Empire Cour de Lion's career alone
appealed to latent sympathies; for the rest, the romance is un-
touched by national feeling. French and other material was
adapted without any re-colouring.
The romance also reflects the medieval love of external beauty.
The picturesqueness of the actual, of medieval streets and buildings,
the bright colours in dress, the love of pageantry and pictorial effects,
all helped to inspire, and are, indeed, reflected in the gay colouring
of the romances. If the stories, again, make considerable demands
upon the credulity, it was not remarkable in regard to the cha-
racter of the times. All things were possible in an age of faith:
the wisdom of credo quia impossibile was to be questioned in
the succeeding age of reason. Moreover, the atmosphere which
nourished the romantic growth was that of feudalism, and an
aristocratic note everywhere marks its tone and structure. But
it is a glorified feudalism which is thus represented, a feudalism
glorious in its hunting, its feasting and its fighting, in its brave men
and fair women; the lower elements are scarcely ever remembered,
and no pretence is made at holding up the mirror to the whole
of society.
Lastly, like so much of the rest of medieval work, the romance
moves largely amidst abstractions. It avoids close touch with the
concrete: for instance, no reflection is found of the struggles of the
Commons for parliamentary power, or even of the national strivings
against papal dominion. The problems of actual life are carefully
avoided; the material treated consists, rather, of the fanciful
problems of the courts of love and situations arising out of the
new-born chivalry.
The romance has many defects, in spite of all its attractions and
the immense interest it arouses both intrinsically and historically.
It sins in being intolerably long-winded and in being often devoid
of all proportion. A story may drag wearily on, long after the
last chapter has really been written, and insignificant episodes
are treated with as much concern as those of pith and moment.
Further, it makes demands upon the “painful” reader, not only by
its discursiveness and love of digression, but also by the minuteness
of its descriptions, relentlessly complete, which leave nothing to the
imagination. “The art of the pen is to rouse the inward vision. . .
because our flying minds cannot contain a protracted description. "
This truth was far from being appreciated in the age of the school.
## p. 319 (#339) ############################################
319
General Defects
men, with their encyclopaedic training. The aristocratic tone of
the romance, moreover, tends to become wearisome by its very
monotony. Sated with the sight of knights and ladies, giants and
Saracens, one longs to meet an honest specimen of the citizen
class; but such relief is never granted. To these and other short-
comings, however, the medieval eye was not always blind, though
romances continued to be called for right up to the end of
the fourteenth century and, indeed, after. Chaucer, with his
keen insight and strong human sympathies, had shown himself
aware of all these absurdities, for, in his Sir Thopas, designed
as a parody on the romance in general, these are the points
on which he seizes. When he rambles on for a hundred lines
in Sir Thopas without saying much, he is quietly making the
first point of his indictment. He is exaggerating the discur-
siveness and minuteness he has found so irksome. And, in the
second place, he ridicules the aristocratic monotone by introducing
a bourgeois note into his parodied romance. The knight swears
an oath on plain "ale and bread”: while, in the romantic forest
through which he is wandering, lurk the harmless “buck and hare,”
as well as the homely nutmeg that flavours the ale. The lapse from
romance is sufficiently evident and the work silently embodies
much sound criticism. The host, with blunt remark, ends the
parody, and in him may be seen a matter-of-fact intelligence
declaiming against the faults of romance.
But, with all its shortcomings, the romance has a peculiar
interest from the modern standpoint in that it marks the begin-
ning of English fiction. In it is written the first chapter of the
modern novel. After assuming a pastoral form in the days of
Elizabeth, and after being reclaimed, with all its earlier defects,
in the seventeenth century, romance slowly vanished in the dry
light of the eighteenth century, but not before it had flooded
the stage with astounding heroic plays. The later novels, how-
ever, continued the functions of the earlier romances when they
embodied tales of adventures or tales of love whether thwarted or
triumphant. Nor is Richardson's novel of analysis without its
counterpart in this earlier creation. He treated love on psycho-
logical lines. But charming love-problems had exercised the minds
of medieval courtiers and had subsequently been analysed in the
romances after the approved fashion of the courts of love. It is
only in the case of the later realistic novel that the origins have
to be sought elsewhere—in the contemporary fabliaux, which
dealt, in a ready manner, with the troubles and the humours of
a lower stratum of life.
## p. 320 (#340) ############################################
CHAPTER XV
PEARL, CLEANNESS, PATIENCE AND
SIR GAWAYNE
AMONG the Cottonian manuscripts in the British Museum, a
small quarto volume, numbered Nero A. x, contains the four Middle
English poems known as Pearl, Cleanness, Patience and Sir
Gawayne and the Grene Knight. The manuscript is in a hand
which seems to belong to the end of the fourteenth or the early
years of the fifteenth century; there are neither titles nor rubrics,
but the chief divisions are marked by large initial letters of blue,
flourished with red; several pictures, coarsely executed, illustrate
the poems, each occupying a full page; the writing is “small,
sharp and irregular. " No single line of these poems has been
discovered in any other manuscript.
The first of the four poems, Pearl, tells of a father's grief for a
lost child, an infant daughter who had lived not two years on earth.
In a vision he beholds his Pearl, no longer a little child, transfigured
as a queen of heaven; from the other bank of a stream which
divides them she instructs him, teaches him the lessons of faith and
resignation and leads him to a glimpse of the new Jerusalem. He
sees his “little queen” in the long procession of maidens; in his
effort to plunge into the stream and reach her he awakes, to find
himself stretched on the child's grave-
Then woke I in that garden fair;
My head upon that mound was laid,
there where my Pearl had strayed below.
I roused me, and felt in great dismay,
and, sighing to myself, I said:-
“Now all be to that Prince's pleasure" 1,
Naturally arising from the author's treatment of his subject,
many a theological problem, notably the interpretation of the
parable of the vineyard, is expounded. The student of medieval
theology may find much of interest in Pearl, but the attempt to
read the poem as a theological pamphlet, and a mere symbolical
allegory, ignores its transcendent reality as a poet's lament. The
1 The renderings into modern English, throughout the chapter, are from the
writer's edition of Pearl, 1891,
## p. 321 (#341) ############################################
Sources of Pearl
321
personal side of the poem is clearly marked, though the author
nowhere directly refers to his fatherhood. The basis of Pearl is to
be found in that verse of the Gospel which tells of the man “ that
sought the precious margarites; and, when he had found one to his
liking, he sold all his goods to buy that jewel. ” The pearl was
doomed, by the law of nature, to flower and fade like a rose; there-
after it became a "pearl of price"; "the jeweller” indicates clearly
enough the reality of his loss.
A fourteenth century poet, casting about for the form best
suited for such a poem, had two courses before him: on the one
hand, there was the great storehouse of dream-pictures, The
Romaunt of the Rose; on the other hand, the symbolic pages
of Scripture. A poet of the Chaucerian school would have chosen
the former; to him the lost Marguerite would have suggested an
allegory of “the flour that bereth our alder pris in figuringe," and
the Marguerite would have been transfigured as the type of
truest womanhood, a maiden in the train of love's queen, Alcestis.
But the cult of the daisy seems to have been altogether unknown
to our poet, or, at least, to have had no attraction for him. His
Marguerite was, for him, the pearl of the Gospel; Mary, the
queen of heaven, not Alcestis, queen of love, reigns in the
visionary paradise which the poet pictures forth. While the main
part of the poem is a paraphrase of the closing chapters of the
Apocalypse and the parable of the vineyard, the poet's debt to The
Romaunt is noteworthy, more particularly in the description of
the wonderful land through which the dreamer wanders; and it can
be traced here and there throughout the poem, in the personifica-
tion of Pearl as Reason, in the form of the colloquy, in the details
of dress and ornament, in many a characteristic word, phrase
and reference; "the river from the throne,” in the Apocalypse,
here meets "the waters of the wells" devised by Sir Mirth for the
garden of the Rose. From these two sources, The Book of Revela-
tion, with its almost romantic glamour, and The Romaunt of the
Rose, with its almost oriental allegory, are derived much of the
wealth and brilliancy of the poem. The poet's fancy revels in
the richness of the heavenly and the earthly paradise; but his fancy
is subordinated to his earnestness and intensity.
The chief episodes of the poem are best indicated by the four
illustrations in the manuscript.
In the first, the author is represented slumbering in a meadow,
by the side of a beflowered mound, clad in a long red gown, with
falling sleeves, turned up with white, and a blue hood attached
E. L. I. CH. XV.
## p. 322 (#342) ############################################
322 Pearl, Cleanness, Patience, Sir Gawayne
round the neck. Madden and others who have described the
illustrations have not noticed that there are wings attached to
the shoulders of the dreamer, and a cord reaching up into the
foliage above, evidently intended to indicate that the spirit has
“sped forth into space. ”
In the second, there is the same figure, drawn on a larger scale,
but without the wings, standing by a river. He has now passed
through the illumined forest-land:
The hill-sides there were crowned
with crystal cliffs full clear,
and holts and woods, all bright with boles,
blue as the blue of Inde,
and trembling leaves, on every branch,
as burnished silver shone-
with shimmering sheen they glistened,
touched by the gleam of the gladesl:
and the gravel I ground upon that strand
was precious orient pearl.
The sun's own light had paled before
that sight so wondrous fair.
In the third picture, he is again represented in a similar position,
with hands raised, and on the opposite side is Pearl, dressed in
white, in the costume of Richard II's and Henry IV's time; her
dress is buttoned tight up to the neck, and on her head is a crown.
In the fourth, the author is kneeling by the water, and, beyond
the stream, is depicted the citadel, on the embattled walls of which
Pearl again appears, with her arms extended towards him.
The metre of Pearl is a stanza of twelve lines with four accents,
rimed according to the scheme ababababbebe, and combining
rime with alliteration; there are one hundred and one such
verses; these divide again into twenty sections, each consisting of
five stanzas with the same refrain-one section exceptionally
contains six stanzas. Throughout the poem, the last or main word
of the refrain is caught up in the first line of the next stanza.
Finally, the last line of the poem is almost identical with the first,
and rounds off the whole. The alliteration is not slavishly main-
tained, and the trisyllabic movement of the feet adds to the ease
and music of the verse; in each line there is a well-defined caesura.
Other writers before and after the author used this form of metre;
but no extant specimen shows such mastery of the stanza, which,
whatever may be its origin, has some kinship with the sonnet,
though a less monumental form, the first eight lines resembling
the sonnet's octave, the final quatrain the sonnet's sestet, and the
i patches of light.
## p. 323 (#343) ############################################
Cleanness and Pearl
323
whole hundred and one stanzas of Pearl reminding one of a great
sonnet-sequence. As the present writer has said elsewhere-
the refrain, the repetition of the catchword of each verse, the trammels of
alliteration, all seem to have offered no difficulty to the poet; and, if power
over technical difficulties constitutes in any way a poet's greatness, the author
of Pearl, from this point of view alone, must take high rank among English
poets. With a rich vocabulary at his command, consisting, on the one hand,
of alliterative phrases and “native mother words," and, on the other hand, of
the poetical phraseology of the great French classics of his time, he succeeded
in producing a series of stanzas so simple in syntax, so varied in rhythmical
effect, now lyrical, now epical, never undignified, as to leave the impression
that no form of metre could have been more suitably chosen for this elegiao
themel.
The diction of the poem has been considered faulty by reason
of its copiousness; but the criticism does not appear to be just.
It should be noted that the author has drawn alike from the
English, Scandinavian and Romance elements of English speech.
The attention of scholars has recently been directed to
Boccaccio's Latin eclogue Olympia, in which his young daughter,
Violante, appears transfigured, much in the same way as Pearl in
the English poem; and an ingenious attempt has been made to
prove the direct debt of the English poet to his great Italian
contemporary. The comparison of the two poems is a fascinating
study, but there is no evidence of direct indebtedness; both
writers, though their elegies are different in form, have drawn
from the same sources. Even were it proved that such debt must
actually be taken into account in dealing with the English poem, it
would not help, but rather gainsay, the ill-founded theory that would
make Pearl a pure allegory, a mere literary device, impersonal
and unreal. The eclogue was written soon after the year 1358.
The second poem in the MS, Cleanness, relates, in epic
style, three great subjects from scriptural history, so chosen as to
enforce the lesson of purity. After a prologue, treating of the
parable of the Marriage Feast, the author deals in characteristic
manner with the Flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah,
and the fall of Belshazzar. The poem is written in long lines,
alliterative and rimeless, and is divided into thirteen sections of
varying length, the whole consisting of 1812 lines.
The third poem is a metrical rendering of the story of Jonah,
and its subject, too, as in the case of Cleanness, is indicated by its
first word, Patience. Though, at first sight, the metre of the two
poems seems to be identical throughout, it is to be noted that the
1 Introduction to Pearl (1891).
21-2
## p. 324 (#344) ############################################
324 Pearl, Cleanness, Patience, Sir Gawayne
lines of Patience divide into what may almost be described
as stanzas of four lines; towards the end of the poem, there is
a three-line group, either designed so by the poet or due to
scribal omission. The same tendency towards the four-lined stanza
is to be found in parts of Cleanness, more especially at the be-
ginning and end of the poem. Patience consists of 531 lines;
it is terser, more vivid and more highly finished, than the
longer poem Cleanness. It is a masterly paraphrase of Scripture,
bringing the story clearly and forcibly home to English folk of
the fourteenth century. The author's delight in his subject is
felt in every line. In Cleanness, especially characteristic of the
author is the description of the holy vessels—the basins of
gold, and the cups, arrayed like castles with battlements, with
towers and lofty pinnacles, with branches and leaves portrayed
upon them, the flowers being white pearl, and the fruit flaming
gems. The two poems Cleanness and Patience, judged by the
tests of vocabulary, richness of expression, rhythm, descriptive
power, spirit and tone, delight in nature, more especially when
agitated by storm and tempest, are manifestly by the same author
as Pearl, to which poem, indeed, they may be regarded as pendants,
dwelling more definitely on its two main themes-purity and sub-
mission to the Divine will. The link that binds Cleanness to Pearl
is unmistakable. The pearl is there again taken as the type of
purity:
How canst thon approach His court save thou be clean ?
Through shrift thou may'st shine, though thou hast served shame;
thou may'st become pure through penance, till thou art a pearl.
The pearl is praised wherever gems are seen,
though it be not the dearest by way of merchandise.
Why is the pearl so prized, save for its purity,
that wing praise for it above all white stones?
It shineth so bright; it is so round of shape;
without fault or stain; if it be truly a pearl.
It becometh never the worse for wear,
be it ne'er so old, if it remain but whole.
If by chance 'tis uncared for and becometh dim,
left neglected in some lady's bower,
wash it worthily in wine, as its nature requireth:
it becometh e'en clearer than ever before.
So if a mortal be defiled ignobly,
yea, polluted in soul, let him seek shrift;
he may purify him by priest and by penance,
and grow brighter than beryl or clustering pearls.
If there were any doubt of identity of authorship in respect
of the two poems, it would be readily dispelled by a comparison
of the Deluge in Cleanness with the sea-storm in Patience.
## p. 325 (#345) ############################################
Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight 325
Cleanness and Patience place their author among the older English
epic poets. They show us more clearly than Pearl that the poet
is a “backward link” to the distant days of Cynewulf; it is with
the Old English epic poets that he must be compared, if the special
properties of these poems are to be understood. But in one gift
he is richer than his predecessors—the gift of humour. Earlier
English literature cannot give us any such combination of didactic
intensity and grim fancy as the poet displays at times in these
small epics. One instance may be quoted, namely, the description
of Jonah's abode in the whale:
As a mote in at a minster door, so mighty were its jaws,
Jonah enters by the gills, through slime and gore;
he reeled in through a gullet, that seemed to him a road,
tumbling about, aye head over heels,
till he staggers to a place as broad as a hall;
then he fixes his feet there and gropes all about,
and stands up in its belly, that stank as the devil;
in sorry plight there, 'mid grease that savoured as hell
his bower was arrayed, who would fain risk no ill.
Then he lurks there and seeks in each nook of the navel
the best sheltered spot, yet nowhere he finds
rest or recovery, but filthy mire
wherever he goes; but God is ever dear;
and he tarried at length and called to the Prince. . . .
Then he reached a nook and held himself there,
where no foul filth encumbered him about.
He sat there as safe, save for darkness alone,
as in the boat's stern, where he had slept ere.
eventful as ever; but he is finally induced to turn towards home,
where he succeeds in regaining his inheritance, and is recognised
as a worthy knight by the reigning king Edgar.
In attempting to estimate the contribution made by these four
works to Middle English romance, it must be remembered that,
although they originate ultimately from the England of the
vikings, of Aethelstan and Edgar, they have all been touched
with later foreign influences. In them may be perceived, how-
ever, an undeveloped chivalry, as well as reminiscences of Old
English life and thought. The code of chivalry is as yet unfor-
mulated. In Havelok we see the simple ideal of righting the
wrong. In Horn and Guy of Warwick is perceptible a refinement
of love which makes for asceticism; but the love details are not, in
general, elaborated in accordance with later chivalrous ideals.
E. L. I. CH. XIV.
20
## p. 306 (#326) ############################################
306 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
Rymenhild and Josian both woo and are wooed; but they lack
the violence of Carolingian heroines. In Felice alone do we find
traces of that scrupulous niceness encouraged in the era of the
courts of love. With regard to the existence of earlier English
reminiscences, in both Horn and Havelok can be seen the joy in
descriptions of the sea characteristic of Old English verse. Both Guy
and Beves, again, have their dragons to encounter after the fashion
of Beowulf. The marvellous, which, to some extent, appears in
Havelok, is of the kind found in Germanic folk-lore; it is distinct
in its essence from the product of Celtic fancy. The plebeian
elements in the same work, which embody a detailed description
of humble life, and which are in striking contrast to the mono-
tonous aristocratic colouring of the romance elsewhere, witness,
undoubtedly, to a primitive pre-Conquest community. And, last,
Guy's great fight with Colbrand breathes the motive of patriotism
-the motive of Byrhtnoth-rather than the religious zeal which
fired crusading heroes in their single combats.
The English medieval romance levied contributions also upon
the literature of antiquity. Such levies were due neither to
crusading zeal, which loved to recall Charlemagne's great fights
against Saracen hosts, nor to the impulse which clung tightly to
native history and homespun stories. They were, rather, the out-
come of a cherished conceit based on a piece of ingenious etymology,
according to which Englishmen, as inhabitants of Britain, held
themselves to be of Trojan descent in virtue of Brutus. In this
way did the literature of antiquity suggest itself as, to some extent,
an appropriate field for the business of romancing. The Gest
Hystoriale of the Destruction of Troy and King Alisaunder may
be taken as typical of this class. The former of these consists
of an epitome of the well-known story with, however, many
modifications characteristic of medieval genius. It sets forth the
antique world interpreted in terms of medievalism; Greek warfare,
Greek customs and Greek religion alike appearing in the garb of
the Middle Ages. And, together with these changes, were tacitly
introduced fairy reminiscences and magical details. But, most
interesting of all, in the Troy narrative, are those elements of the
story of Troilus and Briseida taken over from Benoît de Ste More,
and subsequently moulded into one of the world's greatest stories.
In King Alisaunder we see fashioned the historical and legend-
ary hero, his career being supplemented with hosts of fanciful stories
drawn from the east. His birth is alike mysterious and marvellous.
## p. 307 (#327) ############################################
Richard Cour de Lion 307
His youth and manhood are passed in prodigious undertakings.
He tames the fiery Bucephalus. He captures Tyre and burns
Thebes. Darius falls before him. He advances through Persia and
onwards to the Ganges, conquering, on his way, the great Porrus
of India. His homeward journey is a progress through wonderland.
All the magic of the east lies concentrated in his path; he passes
by crowned snakes and mysterious trees, and beholds, in the
distance, cliffs sparkling with diamonds. He is ultimately poisoned
by a friend and honourably buried in a tomb of gold.
The ruling motive of these classical romances, as compared
with others of their kind, is clearly that of depicting, on a large scale,
the heroic element in humanity and of pointing out the glories of
invincible knighthood. They concern themselves, not with chivalrous
love, but with chivalrous valour and knightly accomplishments.
Their aim is to point to the more masculine elements of medieval
chivalry. The joy of battle is everywhere articulate-not least so
in the picturesque movements of warlike bodies, and in the varied
sounds of the battlefield. The method of developing this motive
is, for the most part, by bringing the west into touch with the
east. The treasuries of Babylonian and antique fable are ran-
sacked to glorify the theme of warlike magnificence. The wider
mental horizon and the taste for wonders which attracted con-
temporaries in Mandeville's Travels are here enlisted in the work
of romance.
Closely akin to the Alexander romance is Richard Cour de
Lion, which may, therefore, be considered here, though its story is
not of either eastern or classical origin. The scheme in both is much
the same. Richard's birth is mysterious as was Alexander's. In
early manhood Richard wrenches out the lion's heart; Alexander
tames Bucephalus. Both march to the east to perform great
things : both are presented as types of valorous greatness. In
the romance, Richard appears as the son of Henry II and the
beautiful enchantress Cassodorien. He is imprisoned in Germany
as the result of an escapade on his way home from the Holy Land,
and it is here that he tears out the heart of a lion set loose in his
cell. The proclamation of a general crusade soon afterwards
appeals to Richard and he joins Philip of France on his way to
the east. The French king is consistently treacherous and jealous,
while Richard is no less hasty and passionate, and, in consequence,
ruptures are frequent. After avenging an insult received from
Cyprus, Richard hastens to Syria, where fight succeeds fight
with great regularity, and the Saracens under Saladin are gradually
ood Richo birth is origin. The
2042
## p. 308 (#328) ############################################
308 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
discomfited. At last a truce of three years is arranged, at which
point the romancer is content to conclude. The romance is one of
the most stirring of the whole group. It deals with the crusades;
but its central theme, like that of the Alexander saga, is the glorifica-
tion of the romance of war, the exaltation of the fighting hero. It is,
moreover, fiercely patriotic. Scorn is heaped on the braggadocio of
the French, and the drawing of Philip's character is far from flatter-
ing. On the other hand, Cour de Lion's haughty arrogance is the
glory of Englishmen; on his side fight St George and big battalions
of angels. His humour appears as grim as his blows. He feasts
on Saracens and provides the same dish for Saracen ambassadors
The ideal man of action, as here depicted, is one in whom the
elements are mixed. He is by no means deficient in knightly
instincts and courtesy; but, mingled with these, are coarse-grained
characteristics. He is rude and blunt, forceful and careless of
restraint-all of which traits represent the English contribution
to the heroic picture.
Oriental fable appears in English romance with other effects
than were obtained in the work of King Alisaunder. The more
voluptuous qualities of the east, for instance, are reproduced in
Flores and Blancheflour and result in a style of romance tolerably
distinct. In The Seven Sages of Rome, again, the story-book is
employed in oriental fashion. The heroine of the first, Blancheflour,
is a Christian princess carried off by the Saracens in Spain and
subsequently educated along with their young prince Flores.
Childish friendship develops into love, and Flores is promptly
removed—but not before his lady has given him a magic ring
which will tarnish when the giver is in danger. Danger soon
threatens her in the shape of false accusation; but this peril, being
revealed to Flores by means of his ring, is duly averted, though
subsequent treachery succeeds in despatching the princess to
Egypt as a slave. Thither Flores pursues her; and, by dint of
bribery and stratagem, he succeeds in entering the seraglio
where she is detained. The inevitable discovery follows, but the
anger of the emir having vanished on his learning all the
circumstances, the trials of the lovers come to a pleasant end.
In this work the central theme is, once again, that of love;
but, in the manner of treatment, there are visible certain
departures. According to western standards, the tone is, in fact,
somewhat sentimental. It is felt that soul-stirring passions are
not involved; the whole seems wanting in the quality of hardihood.
## p. 309 (#329) ############################################
Flores and Blancheflour
309
Flores, for instance, swoons in your true sentimental fashion. He
finds heart's-ease in exile by tracing his lady's name in flower-
designs. He wins his cause by dint of magic and persuasion rather
than by the strength of his own right arm. An oriental colouring is
also noticeable in the sensuous descriptions of garden and seraglio,
as well as in the part played by the magic ring. We have here
material and motives which enlarged the domain of the medieval
romance, and which appealed to Chaucer when he set about
writing his Squire's Tale. In The Seven Sages of Rome other
aspects of the east are duly represented. Diocletian's wicked
queen, failing in her attempt to ensnare her stepson Florentine,
viciously accuses him of her own fell designs. Whereupon,
Florentine's seven tutors plead on his behalf by relating seven
tales of the perfidy of woman. The queen, as plaintiff, relates
a corresponding number concerning the wickedness of counsellors.
The tales are told, the queen is unmasked and duly punished.
In an age dedicated by the west to the worship of women we
have here represented the unflattering estimate of womankind
held by the east. The framework and the device of a series of
tales is, likewise, oriental, and so is the didactic tendency which
underlies the whole. The aim is to set forth the dangers to which
youth is subject, not only from the deceit of men, but, also, from
the wiles of women.
Of far greater importance, however, than any of the foregoing
influences is that derived from Celtic sources. The stories of
Arthur, of Tristram and Gawain, while, in response to formative
influences of the time, they present certain details in common with
the other romances, have yet a distinct atmosphere, fresh motives
and new colouring. Points of similarity exist, but with a difference.
The incessant combats of the Carolingian saga find a counterpart
in the “derring-doe" of Arthurian heroes. As in Horn and
Havelok, the scene in the Celtic romances is laid in Britain; but
the background is Celtic rather than English. Again, just
as King Alisaunder and Richard Coeur de Lion are magni-
ficats of splendid heroic figures, so the glorification of Arthur is
the persistent theme of this Celtic work. And, last, the love-strain
and the magic which came from the east, and were embodied in
Flores and Blancheflour, correspond, in some measure, with Celtic
passion and Celtic mysticism. For such points of contact the
spirit of the age must be held accountable : for such differences as
exist, individual and national genius.
## p. 310 (#330) ############################################
310
Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
The effect of the Celtic genius upon English romance, if, indeed,
such a statement may be ventured upon, was to reveal the passions,
to extend the fancy and to inculcate sensibility. The Celtic element
revealed love as a passion in all its fulness, a passion laden with
possibilities, mysterious and awful in power and effect. It opened
up avenues to a fairy-land peopled with elvish forms and lit by
strange lights. It pointed to an exalted chivalry and lofty ideals,
to a courtesy which was the outcome of a refinement of sentiment.
In the romance of Sir Tristram is embodied the Celtic revela-
tion of love. The English poem is based on the version of Thomas,
and is distinct from that of Béroul. This story of “death-marked”
affection is well known : how Tristram and the fair Iseult are
fatally united by the magic love-potion, quaffed in spite of
Iseult's approaching union with Mark of Cornwall; how their
love persists in spite of honour and duty; how Tristram marries
Iseult of the White Hand and comes to lie wounded in Britanny;
how his wife, distracted with jealousy, falsely announces the ominous
black sail coming over the seas; and how the fair Iseult glides
through the hall and expires on the corpse of her former lover. Here
we feel that the tragedy of love has been remorselessly enacted.
It appears to us as a new and irresistible force, differing alike
from the blandishments of the east and the crudeness of the north.
A sense of mystery and gloom enfolds it all like a misty veil over
cairn and cromlech. The problem is as enduring as life itself.
Enchantment is suggested by means of the love-potion, yet the
weakness is mortal, as, indeed, is the sombre climax. Passion
descends to the level of reality, and the comfortable medieval ending
is sternly eschewed. Love is conducted by neither code nor nice
theory: it moves, simple, sensuous, passionate, to its appointed end,
and relentlessly reveals the poetry of life.
In the romances which deal with the relations between mortal
and fairy we find elements of the richest fancy. Here and else-
where, in this Celtic section, are discovered landscapes and scenes
which charm the imagination with their glamour and light. Fays
come and go, wrapped in ethereal beauty, and horrible spirit-shapes
appear to the accompaniment of mad symphonies of the elements.
Knights of faërie emerge out of weird forbidden tracts, strange
enchantments dictating or following their various movements.
Mystic commands lightly broken entail tragic penalties, and
mortals become the sport of elvish visitants.
Of the romances which relate to love-passages between mortal
and fairy, Sir Launfal, Sir Orfeo and Emare may be taken as
## p. 311 (#331) ############################################
Celtic Romances
311
types. In Sir Launfal, the hero receives love-favours from a
beautiful fay, but breaks his bond by carelessly betraying his
secret to the queen. He is condemned to death and abandoned
by the fay, who, however, relents in time and, riding to Arthur's
court, succeeds in carrying the knight off to the Isle of Avalon.
Sir Orfeo may be briefly described as a Celtic adaptation of the
familiar classical story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Queen Heurodys
is carried off into fairyland, in spite of all that human efforts can
do King Orfeo follows her in despair, as a minstrel, but his
wonderful melodies at last succeed in leading her back to the
haunts of men. In Emare we have a beautifully told story of the
Constance type, with the addition of certain mystical elements.
The heroine is a mysterious maiden of unearthly beauty who is cast
off by her unnatural father and drifts to the shores of Wales where
she wins Sir Cador's love. After the marriage, Sir Cador goes
abroad, and the young wife is once more turned adrift by an in-
triguing mother-in-law. She reaches Rome, and there, in due
course, she is happily discovered by the grief-stricken Cador.
Other romances relate the deeds of the offspring of fairy and mortal
union as, for instance, Sir Degare and Sir Gowther. The former
is an account of the son of a fairy knight and a princess of Britain.
He is abandoned in infancy by the princess, who, however, leaves
with him a pair of magic gloves which will fit no hands but hers.
The child in time becomes a knight, and his prowess in the lists
renders him eligible for the hand of the princess, his mother. By
means of the gloves, however, they learn their real relationship;
whereupon Sir Degare relinquishes his claim and succeeds in the
filial task of re-uniting his parents. In Sir Gowther, the hero is the
son of a “fiendish” knight and a gentle lady whom he had betrayed.
The boy, as was predicted, proved to be of a most savage tempera-
ment, until the offending Adam was whipped out of him by means
of self-inflicted penance. He then wins the love of an earls
daughter by glorious achievements in the lists, and piously builds
an abbey to commemorate his conversion.
It is in the Arthurian romances and, more particularly, in those
relating to Sir Gawain, that we find the loftier ideals of chivalry
set forth. Gawain is depicted as the knight of honour and courtesy,
of loyalty and self-sacrifice. Softer manners and greater magna-
nimity are grafted upon the earlier knighthood. Self-restraint
becomes more and more a knightly virtue. The combats are not
less fierce, but vainglorious boasting gives way to moods of humility.
Victory is followed by noble concern for the vanquished. Passing
## p. 312 (#332) ############################################
312 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
over Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight, which is treated else-
where, we find in Golagros and Gawane these knightly elements
plainly visible. The rudeness of Sir Kay, here and elsewhere, is
devised as a foil to the courtesy of Gawain. Arthur in Tuscany
sends Sir Kay to ask for quarters in a neighbouring castle. His
rude, presumptuous bearing meets with refusal, though, when
Gawain arrives, the request is readily acceded to. The domains
of Golagros are next approached. He is an aggressive knight of
large reputation, whom Arthur makes it his business forthwith to
subdue. A combat is arranged, in which Gawain proves victor;
whereupon the noble Arthurian not only grants the life of the
defiant Golagros, but spares his feelings by returning to his castle
as if he himself were the vanquished. Matters are afterwards
explained, and Golagros, conquered alike by arms and courtesy,
becomes duly enrolled in Arthur's train. In the Awntyrs [Adven-
tures) of Arthure at the Terne Wathelyne we find something of the
same elements, together with an exhortation to moral living. The
romance deals with two incidents alleged to have occurred while
Arthur was hunting near Carlisle. The first, however, is an
adaptation of the Trentals of St Gregory. A ghastly figure is
represented as emerging from the Tarn, and appearing before
Guinevere and Gawain. It is Guinevere's mother in the direst
torments. The queen thereupon makes a vow as to her future
life, and promises, meanwhile, to have masses sung for her mother's
soul. The second incident is of a more conventional kind, and
deals with the fight between Gawain and Galleroun.
Ywain and Gawain is another romance which embodies much
that is characteristic of Arthurian chivalry. Ywain sets out on a
certain quest from Arthur's court. He defeats a knight near the
fountain of Broceliande, pursues him to his castle and marries
Laudine, mistress of that place. After further adventures in love and
war, in most of which he has the company of a friendly lion, he falls
in with Gawain and, ignorant of each other's identity, they engage
in combat. The fight is indecisive, and each courteously concedes
to the other the victory-an exchange of compliments which is
speedily followed by a joyful recognition. The Wedding of Sir
Gawain, again, points to loyalty and honour, as involving supreme
self-sacrifice. It relates how Gawain, to save Arthur's life, under-
takes to marry the loathsome dame Ragnell. His noble unselfish-
ness, however, is not unrewarded: the dame is subsequently
transformed into the most beauteous of her kind. Libeaus
Desconus, the story of Gyngalyn, Gawain's son, is constructed
## p. 313 (#333) ############################################
The Gawain Cycle
313
on rather conventional lines. The fair unknown has several
adventures with giants and others. He visits a fairy castle, where
he meets with an enchantress, and rescues a lady transformed
into a dreadful serpent, who, afterwards, however, becomes his
wife. The scene of the Avowing of Arthur is once more placed
near Carlisle. Arthur is hunting with Sir Gawain, Sir Kay and
Sir Baldwin, when all four undertake separate vows. Arthur is
to capture single-handed a ferocious boar; Sir Kay to fight all
who oppose him. The king is successful; but Sir Kay falls before
a knight who is carrying off a beautiful maiden. The victor, how-
ever, is afterwards overcome in a fight with Gawain, and then
ensues a significant contrast in the matter of behaviours. Sir Kay
sustains his earlier reputation by cruelly taunting the beaten
knight; while Sir Gawain, on the other hand, mindful of the claims
of chivalry, is studiously kind and considerate towards his fallen
foe. The riming Mort Arthur, and the alliterative work of
the same name, deal with the close of Arthur's life. In the first
occurs the story of the maid of Ascolot, and her fruitless love for
the noble Lancelot. The narrative is instinct with the pathos
of love, and here, as in Tristram, the subtlety of the treatment
reveals further possibilities of the love theme. Lancelot is, more-
over, depicted as Guinevere's champion. The queen is under
condemnation, but is rescued by Lancelot, who endures, in con-
sequence, a siege in the Castle of Joyous Garde. The end of the
Arthurian story begins to be visible in the discord thus intro-
duced between Lancelot and Gawain, Arthur and Modred. The
alliterative Morte Arthure is more seriously historical. Arthur
is represented as returning home from his wars with Lucius on
hearing of Modred's treachery. He fights the traitor, but is
mortally wounded, and is borne to Glastonbury, where he is given
a magnificent burial.
In addition to the romances already mentioned as representative
in some measure of definite influences at work, there yet remain
certain others which call for notice. We have, in the first place,
a group of some five romances which may be considered together as
studies of knightly character. They are works which may be said to
deal, incidentally perhaps, with the building up of the perfect knight
and Christian hero, though anything like psychological treatment
is, of course, entirely absent. In Ipomedon, we see the knight as
a gallant if capricious lover. Marriage having been proposed
between young Ipomedon, prince of Apulia, and the beautiful
## p. 314 (#334) ############################################
314 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
queen of Calabria, the former determines to woo for himself.
He arrives incognito at the court of the queen, wins her favour
by manly exploits, and then departs somewhat capriciously. He
is, however, induced to return on hearing that a tournament is
to be held of which the queen herself is to be the prize. But,
again, his conduct is strange. He loudly proclaims his dislike for
boisterous tournaments, and ostentatiously sets out on hunting
expeditions on the days of the contests. But he actually
goes to a neighbouring hermitage, whence he issues to the
tournament, clad, on successive days, in red, white and black
armour-a favourite medieval method of disguise adopted by
Sir Gowther and others. He carries all before him and then
vanishes as mysteriously as ever, without claiming his prize or
revealing his identity.
Soon afterwards, the queen is hard pressed
by a neighbouring duke, and the hero appears once more to fight
her battles, this time disguised as a fool. It is only after further
adventures, when he feels he has fooled to the top of his bent,
that he declares his love with a happy result. In this stirring
romance we see the knight-errant in quest of love. The assumed
slothfulness and fondness for disguise were frequent attributes
of the medieval hero: the one added interest to actual exploits,
the other was an assurance that the love of the well-born was
accepted on his own individual merits.
In the beautiful romance of Amis and Amiloun we have friend-
ship set forth as a knightly virtue. It is depicted as an all-absorbing
quality which involves, if necessary, the sacrifice of both family and
conscience. Amis and Amiloun are two noble foster-brothers, the
medieval counterparts of Orestes and Pylades, much alike in ap-
pearance, whose lives are indissolubly linked together. Amiloun
generously, but surreptitiously, takes the place of Amis in a trial by
combat, for which piece of unselfishness, with the deception involved
in it, he is, subsequently, visited with the scourge of leprosy. Some
time afterwards, Amis finds his friend in pitiable plight, but fails, at
first, to grasp his identity. It is only after a dramatic scene that
the discovery is made, and then Amis, grief-stricken, proceeds to
remove his friend's leprosy by the sacrifice of his own children.
But such a sacrifice is not permitted to be irrevocable. When
Amis and his wife Belisante go to view their slaughtered children,
they are found to be merely sleeping. The sacrifice had been one
upon which the gods themselves threw incense. The romance, as
it stands, is one of the most pathetic and elevating of the whole series.
Knightly love and valour were eloquent themes of the
## p. 315 (#335) ############################################
The Squire of Low Degree 315
medieval romance : in Amis and Amiloun, the beauty of friend-
ship is no less nobly treated. In Sir Cleges, the knightly character
is further developed by the inculcation of charity, wit and shrewd-
ness. The story is simply, but picturesquely, told. The hero is
a knight who is reduced to poverty by reckless charity. When
his fortunes are at their lowest ebb he finds a cherry-tree
in his garden laden with fruit, though snow is on the ground and
the season is yuletide. With this goodly find he sets out to king
Uther at Cardiff, in the hope of restoring his fallen fortunes; but
court officials bar his way until he has promised to divide amongst
them all his reward. The king is gratified, and Cleges is asked
to name his reward. He asks for twelve strokes, which the
officials, in accordance with the bargain, duly receive, to the
unbounded delight of an appreciative court. The identity of
the knight then becomes known and his former charity is suitably
recognised.
The theme of Sir Isumbras is that of Christian humility, the
story itself being an adaptation of the legend of St Eustace. Sir
Isumbras is a knight who, through pride, falls from his high estate
by the will of Providence. He is severely stricken; his posses-
sions, his children and, lastly, his wife, are taken away; and he
himself becomes a wanderer. After much privation nobly endured,
he has learnt his lesson and arrives at the court of a queen, who
proves to be his long-lost wife. His children are then miraculously
restored and he resumes once more his exalted rank.
The Squire of Low Degree is a pleasant romance which does
not belie an attractive title. Its theme suggests the idea of
the existence of knightly character in those of low estate, a
sentiment which had appealed to a conquered English people
in the earlier Havelok. The humble squire in the story wins the
affection of “the king's daughter of Hungary,” as well as her
promise to wed when he shall have become a distinguished knight.
An interfering and treacherous steward is righteously slain by the
squire, who then suffers imprisonment, and the king's daughter,
who supposes her lover dead, is thereby reduced to the direst
straits. She refuses consolation, though the king categorically
reminds her of much that is pleasant in life and draws up, in fact,
an interesting list of medieval delights, its feasts, its finery, its
sports and its music. Persuasion failing, the king is obliged to relent.
The squire is released and ventures abroad on knightly quest. He
returns, in due course, to claim his own, and a pleasant romance
ends on a pleasant note. The story loses nothing from the manner
## p. 316 (#336) ############################################
316 Metrical Romances, 1200—1500
of its telling ; it is, above all, “mercifully brief. ” Its English origin
and sentiment, no less than its pictures of medieval life, continue
to make this romance one of the most readable of its kind.
Besides these romances which deal, in some sort, with the
knightly character, there are others which embody variations of
the Constance theme, namely, Sir Triamour, Sir Eglamour of
Artois and Torrent of Portugal. Like Emarè, they belong to
the “reunion of kindred” type-a type which appealed to Chaucer
and, still more, to Shakespeare in his latest period. One well-known
romance still calls for notice. This is William of Palerne, a tale of
love and action which embodies the primitive belief in lycanthropy,
according to which certain people were able to assume, at will,
the character and appearance of wolves. The tradition was wide-
spread in Europe, and it still appears from time to time in modern
works dealing with ghouls and vampires. The story relates how
William, prince of Apulia, is saved from a murderous attack by the
aid of a werwolf, who, in reality, is heir to the Spanish throne. The
werwolf swims with the prince across the straits of Messina, and
again renders aid when his protégé is fleeing from Rome with his
love, Melchior. William, subsequently, recovers his royal rights,
and then helps to bring about the restoration to the friendly
werwolf of his human form.
It is striking and, to some extent, characteristic of the age,
that, although the field of English romance was thus wide and
varied, the personality of scarcely a single toiler in that field
has come down to posterity. The anonymity of the work em-
bodied in our ancient cathedrals is a parallel to this, and neither
fact is without its significance. With the Tristram legend is
connected the name of Thomas, a poet of the twelfth century, who
is mentioned by Gottfried of Strassburg in the early thirteenth
century. The somewhat misty but historical Thomas of Erceldoune
has been credited with the composition of a Sir Tristram story,
but this was possibly due to a confusion of the twelfth century
Thomas with his interesting namesake of the succeeding century.
The confusion would be one to which the popular mind was
peculiarly susceptible. Thomas the Rhymer was a romantic
figure credited with prophetical gifts, and a popular tale would
readily be linked with his name, especially as such a process
was consistent with the earlier Thomas tradition as it then
existed.
In the case of three other romances there seem to be certain
grounds for attributing them to a single writer. All three works,
## p. 317 (#337) ############################################
The Age of Romance
317
King Alisaunder, Arthur and Merlin and Richard Cour de Lion,
are, apparently, of much the same date, and alike hail from Kent.
Each is animated by the same purpose—that of throwing on to a
large canvas a great heroic figure; there is also to be found in
each of them a certain sympathy with magic, The handling of
the theme in each case proceeds on similar lines; the close
parallel in the schemes of King Alisaunder and Richard Coeur de
Lion has already been noticed; and the narrative, in each, moves
along in easy animated style. Moreover, similarities of technique
are found in all. The recurrence of similes and comparisons as
well as riming peculiarities in common, suggest the working of
a single mind. In King Alisaunder and Arthur and Merlin
appears the device of beginning the various sections of the nar-
rative with lyric, gnomic, or descriptive lines, presumably to
arouse interest and claim attention. In Richard Coeur de Lion
something of the same tendency is also visible, as when a delight-
ful description of spring is inserted after the gruesome account of
the massacre of a horde of Saracens. All three works betray a joy
in fighting, a joy expressed in vigorous terms. In all is evinced
an ability to seize on the picturesque side of things, whether of
battle or feasting ; Saracens fall "as grass before the scythe";
the helmets of the troops shine “like snow upon the mountains. ”
But if the identity of a common author may thus seem probable,
little or nothing is forthcoming as regards his personality. Certain
coarse details, together with rude humour, seem to suggest a
plebeian pen; and this is, apparently, supported by occasional
references to trades. But nothing certain on the subject can be
stated. The personality of the poet is, at best, but shadowy,
though, undoubtedly, his work is of outstanding merit.
In certain respects these romances may be said to reflect the age
in which they were written. They bear witness in two ways to the
communistic conception of society which then prevailed: first, by
the anonymous character of the writings generally and, secondly,
by the absence of the patriotic note. The individual, from the
communistic standpoint, was but a unit of the nation; the nation,
merely a section of a larger Christendom. The sense of indi-
vidualism, and all that it implied, was yet to be emphasised by a
later renascence. It is, therefore, clear that the anonymity of
the romances, as in the case of the Legendaries and Chronicle,
was, in part, the outcome of such conceptions and notions. The
works represent
The constant servico of the antique world
When service sweat for duty, not for meed.
## p. 318 (#338) ############################################
318 Metrical Romances, 1200-1500
And the absence of patriotism from the romances results from the
same conditions: national consciousness was not yet really awakened.
The mental horizon was bounded not by English shores, but by the
limits of the Holy Roman Empire Cour de Lion's career alone
appealed to latent sympathies; for the rest, the romance is un-
touched by national feeling. French and other material was
adapted without any re-colouring.
The romance also reflects the medieval love of external beauty.
The picturesqueness of the actual, of medieval streets and buildings,
the bright colours in dress, the love of pageantry and pictorial effects,
all helped to inspire, and are, indeed, reflected in the gay colouring
of the romances. If the stories, again, make considerable demands
upon the credulity, it was not remarkable in regard to the cha-
racter of the times. All things were possible in an age of faith:
the wisdom of credo quia impossibile was to be questioned in
the succeeding age of reason. Moreover, the atmosphere which
nourished the romantic growth was that of feudalism, and an
aristocratic note everywhere marks its tone and structure. But
it is a glorified feudalism which is thus represented, a feudalism
glorious in its hunting, its feasting and its fighting, in its brave men
and fair women; the lower elements are scarcely ever remembered,
and no pretence is made at holding up the mirror to the whole
of society.
Lastly, like so much of the rest of medieval work, the romance
moves largely amidst abstractions. It avoids close touch with the
concrete: for instance, no reflection is found of the struggles of the
Commons for parliamentary power, or even of the national strivings
against papal dominion. The problems of actual life are carefully
avoided; the material treated consists, rather, of the fanciful
problems of the courts of love and situations arising out of the
new-born chivalry.
The romance has many defects, in spite of all its attractions and
the immense interest it arouses both intrinsically and historically.
It sins in being intolerably long-winded and in being often devoid
of all proportion. A story may drag wearily on, long after the
last chapter has really been written, and insignificant episodes
are treated with as much concern as those of pith and moment.
Further, it makes demands upon the “painful” reader, not only by
its discursiveness and love of digression, but also by the minuteness
of its descriptions, relentlessly complete, which leave nothing to the
imagination. “The art of the pen is to rouse the inward vision. . .
because our flying minds cannot contain a protracted description. "
This truth was far from being appreciated in the age of the school.
## p. 319 (#339) ############################################
319
General Defects
men, with their encyclopaedic training. The aristocratic tone of
the romance, moreover, tends to become wearisome by its very
monotony. Sated with the sight of knights and ladies, giants and
Saracens, one longs to meet an honest specimen of the citizen
class; but such relief is never granted. To these and other short-
comings, however, the medieval eye was not always blind, though
romances continued to be called for right up to the end of
the fourteenth century and, indeed, after. Chaucer, with his
keen insight and strong human sympathies, had shown himself
aware of all these absurdities, for, in his Sir Thopas, designed
as a parody on the romance in general, these are the points
on which he seizes. When he rambles on for a hundred lines
in Sir Thopas without saying much, he is quietly making the
first point of his indictment. He is exaggerating the discur-
siveness and minuteness he has found so irksome. And, in the
second place, he ridicules the aristocratic monotone by introducing
a bourgeois note into his parodied romance. The knight swears
an oath on plain "ale and bread”: while, in the romantic forest
through which he is wandering, lurk the harmless “buck and hare,”
as well as the homely nutmeg that flavours the ale. The lapse from
romance is sufficiently evident and the work silently embodies
much sound criticism. The host, with blunt remark, ends the
parody, and in him may be seen a matter-of-fact intelligence
declaiming against the faults of romance.
But, with all its shortcomings, the romance has a peculiar
interest from the modern standpoint in that it marks the begin-
ning of English fiction. In it is written the first chapter of the
modern novel. After assuming a pastoral form in the days of
Elizabeth, and after being reclaimed, with all its earlier defects,
in the seventeenth century, romance slowly vanished in the dry
light of the eighteenth century, but not before it had flooded
the stage with astounding heroic plays. The later novels, how-
ever, continued the functions of the earlier romances when they
embodied tales of adventures or tales of love whether thwarted or
triumphant. Nor is Richardson's novel of analysis without its
counterpart in this earlier creation. He treated love on psycho-
logical lines. But charming love-problems had exercised the minds
of medieval courtiers and had subsequently been analysed in the
romances after the approved fashion of the courts of love. It is
only in the case of the later realistic novel that the origins have
to be sought elsewhere—in the contemporary fabliaux, which
dealt, in a ready manner, with the troubles and the humours of
a lower stratum of life.
## p. 320 (#340) ############################################
CHAPTER XV
PEARL, CLEANNESS, PATIENCE AND
SIR GAWAYNE
AMONG the Cottonian manuscripts in the British Museum, a
small quarto volume, numbered Nero A. x, contains the four Middle
English poems known as Pearl, Cleanness, Patience and Sir
Gawayne and the Grene Knight. The manuscript is in a hand
which seems to belong to the end of the fourteenth or the early
years of the fifteenth century; there are neither titles nor rubrics,
but the chief divisions are marked by large initial letters of blue,
flourished with red; several pictures, coarsely executed, illustrate
the poems, each occupying a full page; the writing is “small,
sharp and irregular. " No single line of these poems has been
discovered in any other manuscript.
The first of the four poems, Pearl, tells of a father's grief for a
lost child, an infant daughter who had lived not two years on earth.
In a vision he beholds his Pearl, no longer a little child, transfigured
as a queen of heaven; from the other bank of a stream which
divides them she instructs him, teaches him the lessons of faith and
resignation and leads him to a glimpse of the new Jerusalem. He
sees his “little queen” in the long procession of maidens; in his
effort to plunge into the stream and reach her he awakes, to find
himself stretched on the child's grave-
Then woke I in that garden fair;
My head upon that mound was laid,
there where my Pearl had strayed below.
I roused me, and felt in great dismay,
and, sighing to myself, I said:-
“Now all be to that Prince's pleasure" 1,
Naturally arising from the author's treatment of his subject,
many a theological problem, notably the interpretation of the
parable of the vineyard, is expounded. The student of medieval
theology may find much of interest in Pearl, but the attempt to
read the poem as a theological pamphlet, and a mere symbolical
allegory, ignores its transcendent reality as a poet's lament. The
1 The renderings into modern English, throughout the chapter, are from the
writer's edition of Pearl, 1891,
## p. 321 (#341) ############################################
Sources of Pearl
321
personal side of the poem is clearly marked, though the author
nowhere directly refers to his fatherhood. The basis of Pearl is to
be found in that verse of the Gospel which tells of the man “ that
sought the precious margarites; and, when he had found one to his
liking, he sold all his goods to buy that jewel. ” The pearl was
doomed, by the law of nature, to flower and fade like a rose; there-
after it became a "pearl of price"; "the jeweller” indicates clearly
enough the reality of his loss.
A fourteenth century poet, casting about for the form best
suited for such a poem, had two courses before him: on the one
hand, there was the great storehouse of dream-pictures, The
Romaunt of the Rose; on the other hand, the symbolic pages
of Scripture. A poet of the Chaucerian school would have chosen
the former; to him the lost Marguerite would have suggested an
allegory of “the flour that bereth our alder pris in figuringe," and
the Marguerite would have been transfigured as the type of
truest womanhood, a maiden in the train of love's queen, Alcestis.
But the cult of the daisy seems to have been altogether unknown
to our poet, or, at least, to have had no attraction for him. His
Marguerite was, for him, the pearl of the Gospel; Mary, the
queen of heaven, not Alcestis, queen of love, reigns in the
visionary paradise which the poet pictures forth. While the main
part of the poem is a paraphrase of the closing chapters of the
Apocalypse and the parable of the vineyard, the poet's debt to The
Romaunt is noteworthy, more particularly in the description of
the wonderful land through which the dreamer wanders; and it can
be traced here and there throughout the poem, in the personifica-
tion of Pearl as Reason, in the form of the colloquy, in the details
of dress and ornament, in many a characteristic word, phrase
and reference; "the river from the throne,” in the Apocalypse,
here meets "the waters of the wells" devised by Sir Mirth for the
garden of the Rose. From these two sources, The Book of Revela-
tion, with its almost romantic glamour, and The Romaunt of the
Rose, with its almost oriental allegory, are derived much of the
wealth and brilliancy of the poem. The poet's fancy revels in
the richness of the heavenly and the earthly paradise; but his fancy
is subordinated to his earnestness and intensity.
The chief episodes of the poem are best indicated by the four
illustrations in the manuscript.
In the first, the author is represented slumbering in a meadow,
by the side of a beflowered mound, clad in a long red gown, with
falling sleeves, turned up with white, and a blue hood attached
E. L. I. CH. XV.
## p. 322 (#342) ############################################
322 Pearl, Cleanness, Patience, Sir Gawayne
round the neck. Madden and others who have described the
illustrations have not noticed that there are wings attached to
the shoulders of the dreamer, and a cord reaching up into the
foliage above, evidently intended to indicate that the spirit has
“sped forth into space. ”
In the second, there is the same figure, drawn on a larger scale,
but without the wings, standing by a river. He has now passed
through the illumined forest-land:
The hill-sides there were crowned
with crystal cliffs full clear,
and holts and woods, all bright with boles,
blue as the blue of Inde,
and trembling leaves, on every branch,
as burnished silver shone-
with shimmering sheen they glistened,
touched by the gleam of the gladesl:
and the gravel I ground upon that strand
was precious orient pearl.
The sun's own light had paled before
that sight so wondrous fair.
In the third picture, he is again represented in a similar position,
with hands raised, and on the opposite side is Pearl, dressed in
white, in the costume of Richard II's and Henry IV's time; her
dress is buttoned tight up to the neck, and on her head is a crown.
In the fourth, the author is kneeling by the water, and, beyond
the stream, is depicted the citadel, on the embattled walls of which
Pearl again appears, with her arms extended towards him.
The metre of Pearl is a stanza of twelve lines with four accents,
rimed according to the scheme ababababbebe, and combining
rime with alliteration; there are one hundred and one such
verses; these divide again into twenty sections, each consisting of
five stanzas with the same refrain-one section exceptionally
contains six stanzas. Throughout the poem, the last or main word
of the refrain is caught up in the first line of the next stanza.
Finally, the last line of the poem is almost identical with the first,
and rounds off the whole. The alliteration is not slavishly main-
tained, and the trisyllabic movement of the feet adds to the ease
and music of the verse; in each line there is a well-defined caesura.
Other writers before and after the author used this form of metre;
but no extant specimen shows such mastery of the stanza, which,
whatever may be its origin, has some kinship with the sonnet,
though a less monumental form, the first eight lines resembling
the sonnet's octave, the final quatrain the sonnet's sestet, and the
i patches of light.
## p. 323 (#343) ############################################
Cleanness and Pearl
323
whole hundred and one stanzas of Pearl reminding one of a great
sonnet-sequence. As the present writer has said elsewhere-
the refrain, the repetition of the catchword of each verse, the trammels of
alliteration, all seem to have offered no difficulty to the poet; and, if power
over technical difficulties constitutes in any way a poet's greatness, the author
of Pearl, from this point of view alone, must take high rank among English
poets. With a rich vocabulary at his command, consisting, on the one hand,
of alliterative phrases and “native mother words," and, on the other hand, of
the poetical phraseology of the great French classics of his time, he succeeded
in producing a series of stanzas so simple in syntax, so varied in rhythmical
effect, now lyrical, now epical, never undignified, as to leave the impression
that no form of metre could have been more suitably chosen for this elegiao
themel.
The diction of the poem has been considered faulty by reason
of its copiousness; but the criticism does not appear to be just.
It should be noted that the author has drawn alike from the
English, Scandinavian and Romance elements of English speech.
The attention of scholars has recently been directed to
Boccaccio's Latin eclogue Olympia, in which his young daughter,
Violante, appears transfigured, much in the same way as Pearl in
the English poem; and an ingenious attempt has been made to
prove the direct debt of the English poet to his great Italian
contemporary. The comparison of the two poems is a fascinating
study, but there is no evidence of direct indebtedness; both
writers, though their elegies are different in form, have drawn
from the same sources. Even were it proved that such debt must
actually be taken into account in dealing with the English poem, it
would not help, but rather gainsay, the ill-founded theory that would
make Pearl a pure allegory, a mere literary device, impersonal
and unreal. The eclogue was written soon after the year 1358.
The second poem in the MS, Cleanness, relates, in epic
style, three great subjects from scriptural history, so chosen as to
enforce the lesson of purity. After a prologue, treating of the
parable of the Marriage Feast, the author deals in characteristic
manner with the Flood, the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah,
and the fall of Belshazzar. The poem is written in long lines,
alliterative and rimeless, and is divided into thirteen sections of
varying length, the whole consisting of 1812 lines.
The third poem is a metrical rendering of the story of Jonah,
and its subject, too, as in the case of Cleanness, is indicated by its
first word, Patience. Though, at first sight, the metre of the two
poems seems to be identical throughout, it is to be noted that the
1 Introduction to Pearl (1891).
21-2
## p. 324 (#344) ############################################
324 Pearl, Cleanness, Patience, Sir Gawayne
lines of Patience divide into what may almost be described
as stanzas of four lines; towards the end of the poem, there is
a three-line group, either designed so by the poet or due to
scribal omission. The same tendency towards the four-lined stanza
is to be found in parts of Cleanness, more especially at the be-
ginning and end of the poem. Patience consists of 531 lines;
it is terser, more vivid and more highly finished, than the
longer poem Cleanness. It is a masterly paraphrase of Scripture,
bringing the story clearly and forcibly home to English folk of
the fourteenth century. The author's delight in his subject is
felt in every line. In Cleanness, especially characteristic of the
author is the description of the holy vessels—the basins of
gold, and the cups, arrayed like castles with battlements, with
towers and lofty pinnacles, with branches and leaves portrayed
upon them, the flowers being white pearl, and the fruit flaming
gems. The two poems Cleanness and Patience, judged by the
tests of vocabulary, richness of expression, rhythm, descriptive
power, spirit and tone, delight in nature, more especially when
agitated by storm and tempest, are manifestly by the same author
as Pearl, to which poem, indeed, they may be regarded as pendants,
dwelling more definitely on its two main themes-purity and sub-
mission to the Divine will. The link that binds Cleanness to Pearl
is unmistakable. The pearl is there again taken as the type of
purity:
How canst thon approach His court save thou be clean ?
Through shrift thou may'st shine, though thou hast served shame;
thou may'st become pure through penance, till thou art a pearl.
The pearl is praised wherever gems are seen,
though it be not the dearest by way of merchandise.
Why is the pearl so prized, save for its purity,
that wing praise for it above all white stones?
It shineth so bright; it is so round of shape;
without fault or stain; if it be truly a pearl.
It becometh never the worse for wear,
be it ne'er so old, if it remain but whole.
If by chance 'tis uncared for and becometh dim,
left neglected in some lady's bower,
wash it worthily in wine, as its nature requireth:
it becometh e'en clearer than ever before.
So if a mortal be defiled ignobly,
yea, polluted in soul, let him seek shrift;
he may purify him by priest and by penance,
and grow brighter than beryl or clustering pearls.
If there were any doubt of identity of authorship in respect
of the two poems, it would be readily dispelled by a comparison
of the Deluge in Cleanness with the sea-storm in Patience.
## p. 325 (#345) ############################################
Sir Gawayne and the Grene Knight 325
Cleanness and Patience place their author among the older English
epic poets. They show us more clearly than Pearl that the poet
is a “backward link” to the distant days of Cynewulf; it is with
the Old English epic poets that he must be compared, if the special
properties of these poems are to be understood. But in one gift
he is richer than his predecessors—the gift of humour. Earlier
English literature cannot give us any such combination of didactic
intensity and grim fancy as the poet displays at times in these
small epics. One instance may be quoted, namely, the description
of Jonah's abode in the whale:
As a mote in at a minster door, so mighty were its jaws,
Jonah enters by the gills, through slime and gore;
he reeled in through a gullet, that seemed to him a road,
tumbling about, aye head over heels,
till he staggers to a place as broad as a hall;
then he fixes his feet there and gropes all about,
and stands up in its belly, that stank as the devil;
in sorry plight there, 'mid grease that savoured as hell
his bower was arrayed, who would fain risk no ill.
Then he lurks there and seeks in each nook of the navel
the best sheltered spot, yet nowhere he finds
rest or recovery, but filthy mire
wherever he goes; but God is ever dear;
and he tarried at length and called to the Prince. . . .
Then he reached a nook and held himself there,
where no foul filth encumbered him about.
He sat there as safe, save for darkness alone,
as in the boat's stern, where he had slept ere.
