No More Learning

AT LAST THE DAYLIGHT FADETH
T LAST the daylight fadeth,
With all its noise and glare;
Refreshing peace pervadeth
The darkness everywhere.
On the fields deep silence hovers;
The woods now wake alone;
What daylight ne'er discovers,
Their songs to the night make known.
And what when the sun is shining
I ne'er can tell to thee,
To whisper it now I am pining,—
Oh, come and hearken to me!
Translation of Frances Hellman. Copyright 1892.


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6253
AULUS GELLIUS
(SECOND CENTURY A. D. )
ERHAPS Gellius's 'Attic Nights' may claim especial mention
here, as one of the earliest extant forerunners of this
< Library. ' In the original preface (given first among the
citations), Gellius explains very clearly the origin and scope of his
work. It is not, however, a mere scrap-book. There is original mat-
ter in many chapters. In particular, an ethical or philosophic excerpt
has often been framed in a little scene, - doubtless imaginary,— and
cast in the form of a dialogue. We get, even, pleasant glimpses of
autobiography from time to time. The author is not, however, a
deep or forceful character, on the whole. His heart is mostly set on
trifles.
Yet Gellius has been an assiduous student, both in Greece and
Italy; and his book gives us an agreeable, probably an adequate,
view of the fields which are included in the general culture of his
time. Despite its title, the work is chiefly Roman. In history, biog-
raphy, antiquities, grammar, literary criticism, his materials and au-
thors are prevailingly Latin. He is perhaps most widely known and
quoted on early Roman life and usages. Thus, one of his chapters
gives a mass of curious information as to the choice of the Vestal
Virgins. We are also largely indebted to him for citations from lost
authors. We have already quoted under Ennius the sketch, in eigh-
teen hexameters, of a scholar-soldier, believed to be a genial self-
portraiture. These lines are the finest specimen we have of the
'Annales. Similarly, under Cato, we have quoted the chief fragment
of the great Censor's Roman history. For both these treasures we
must thank Gellius. Indeed, throughout the wide fields of Roman
antiquities, history of literature, grammar, etc. , we have to depend
chiefly upon various late Latin scrap-books and compilations, most of
which are not even made up at first hand from creative classical au-
thors. To Gellius, also, the imposing array of writers so constantly
named by him was evidently known chiefly through compendiums
and handbooks. It is suspicious, for instance, that he hardly quotes
a poet within a century of his own time. Repetitions, contradictions,
etc. , are numerous.
Despite its twenty "books" and nearly four hundred (short) chap-
ters, the work is not only light and readable for the most part, but


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6254
AULUS GELLIUS
quite modest in total bulk: five hundred and fifty pages in the small
page and generous type of Hertz's Teubner text. There is an Eng-
lish translation by Rev. W. Beloe, first printed in 1795, from which
we quote below. Professor Nettleship's (in his 'Essays in Latin Lit-
erature) has no literary quality, but gives a careful analysis of Gel-
lius's subjects and probable sources. There is a revival of interest
in this author in recent years. We decidedly recommend Hertz's at-
tractive volume to any Latin student who wishes to browse beyond
the narrow classical limits.
FROM ATTIC NIGHTS›
ORIGIN AND PLAN OF THE BOOK
MOR
ORE pleasing works than the present may certainly be found:
my object in writing this was to provide my children, as
well as myself, with that kind of amusement in which
they might properly relax and indulge themselves at the inter-
vals from more important business. I have preserved the same
accidental arrangement which I had before used in making the
collection. Whatever book came into my hand, whether it was
Greek or Latin, or whatever I heard that was either worthy of
being recorded or agreeable to my fancy, I wrote down without
distinction and without order. These things I treasured up to
aid my memory, as it were by a store-house of learning; so that
when I wanted to refer to any particular circumstance or word
which I had at the moment forgotten, and the books from which
they were taken happened not to be at hand, I could easily find
and apply it. Thus the same irregularity will appear in these
commentaries as existed in the original annotations, which were
concisely written down without any method or arrangement in
the course of what I at different times had heard or read. As
these observations at first constituted my business and my amuse-
ment through many long winter nights which I spent in Attica,
I have given them the name of 'Attic Nights. '
It is an
old proverb, "A jay has no concern with music, nor a hog with
perfumes: " but that the ill-humor and invidiousness of certain
ill-taught people may be still more exasperated, I shall borrow a
few verses from a chorus of Aristophanes; and what he, a man
of most exquisite humor, proposed as a law to the spectators of
his play, I also recommend to the readers of this volume, that
the vulgar and unhallowed herd, who are averse to the sports of


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AULUS GELLIUS
6255
the Muses, may not touch nor even approach it.
these:
-
The verses are
SILENT be they, and far from hence remove,
By scenes like ours not likely to improve,
Who never paid the honored Muse her rights,
Who senseless live in wild, impure delights;
I bid them once, I bid them twice begone,
I bid them thrice, in still a louder tone:
Far hence depart, whilst ye with dance and song
Our solemn feast, our tuneful nights prolong.
THE VESTAL VIRGINS
THE writers on the subject of taking a Vestal Virgin, of
whom Labeo Antistius is the most elaborate, have asserted that
no one could be taken who was less than six or more than
ten years old. Neither could she be taken unless both her
father and mother were alive, if she had any defect of voice or
hearing, or indeed any personal blemish, or if she herself or
father had been made free; or if under the protection of her
grandfather, her father being alive; if one or both of her parents
were in actual servitude, or employed in mean occupations. She
whose sister was in this character might plead exemption, as
might she whose father was flamen, augur, one of the fifteen
who had care of the sacred books, or one of the seventeen who
regulated the sacred feasts, or a priest of Mars. Exemption was
also granted to her who was betrothed to a pontiff, and to the
daughter of the sacred trumpeter. Capito Ateius has also ob-
served that the daughter of a man was ineligible who had no
establishment in Italy, and that his daughter might be excused
who had three children. But as soon as a Vestal Virgin is taken,
conducted to the vestibule of Vesta, and delivered to the pontiffs,
she is from that moment removed from her father's authority,
without any form of emancipation or loss of rank, and has also
the right of making her will. No more ancient records remain.
concerning the form and ceremony of taking a virgin, except that
the first virgin was taken by King Numa. But we find a Papian
law which provides that at the will of the supreme pontiff twenty
virgins should be chosen from the people; that these should draw
lots in the public assembly; and that the supreme pontiff might
take her whose lot it was, to become the servant of Vesta. But


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6256
AULUS GELLIUS
this drawing of lots by the Papian law does not now seem neces-
sary; for if any person of ingenuous birth goes to the pontiff
and offers his daughter for this ministry, if she may be accepted
without any violation of what the ceremonies of religion enjoin,
the Senate dispenses with the Papian law. Moreover, a virgin is
said to be taken, because she is taken by the hand of the high
priest from that parent under whose authority she is, and led
away as a captive in war. In the first book of Fabius Pictor, we
have the form of words which the supreme pontiff is to repeat
when he takes a virgin. It is this:
"I take thee, beloved, as a priestess of Vesta, to perform
religious service, to discharge those duties with respect to the
whole body of the Roman people which the law most wisely
requires of a priestess of Vesta. "
It is also said in those commentaries of Labeo which he wrote
on the Twelve Tables:-
"No Vestal Virgin can be heiress to any intestate person of
either sex. Such effects are said to belong to the public. It is
inquired by what right this is done? " When taken she is called
amata, or beloved, by the high priest; because Amata is said to
have been the name of her who was first taken.
―――――――
THE SECRETS OF THE SENATE
IT WAS formerly usual for the senators of Rome to enter
the Senate-house accompanied by their sons who had taken the
prætexta. When something of superior importance was discussed
in the Senate, and the further consideration adjourned to the day
following, it was resolved that no one should divulge the subject.
of their debates till it should be formally decreed. The mother
of the young Papirius, who had accompanied his father to the
Senate-house, inquired of her son what the senators had been
doing. The youth replied that he had been enjoined silence, and
was not at liberty to say. The woman became more anxious to
know; the secretness of the thing, and the silence of the youth,
did but inflame her curiosity. She therefore urged him with
more vehement earnestness. The young man, on the importunity
of his mother, determined on a humorous and pleasant fallacy:
he said it was discussed in the Senate, which would be most
beneficial to the State- for one man to have two wives, or for
one woman to have two husbands. As soon as she heard this
-


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AULUS GELLIUS
6257
she was much agitated, and leaving her house in great trepida-
tion, went to tell the other matrons what she had learned. The
next day a troop of matrons went to the Senate-house, and with
tears and entreaties implored that one woman might be suffered
to have two husbands, rather than one man to have two wives.
The senators on entering the house were astonished, and won-
dered what this intemperate proceeding of the women, and their
petition, could mean. The young Papirius, advancing to the
midst of the Senate, explained the pressing importunity of his
mother, his answer, and the matter as it was. The Senate,
delighted with the honor and ingenuity of the youth, made a
decree that from that time no youth should be suffered to enter
the Senate with his father, this Papirius alone excepted.
-
PLUTARCH AND HIS SLAVE
PLUTARCH once ordered a slave, who was an impudent and
worthless fellow, but who had paid some attention to books and
philosophical disputations, to be stripped (I know not for what
fault) and whipped. As soon as his punishment began, he averred
that he did not deserve to be beaten; that he had been guilty of
no offense or crime. As they went on whipping him, he called
out louder, not with any cry of suffering or complaint, but gravely
reproaching his master. Such behavior, he said, was unworthy of
Plutarch; that anger disgraced a philosopher; that he had often
disputed on the mischiefs of anger; that he had written a very
excellent book about not giving place to anger; but that what-
ever he had said in that book was now contradicted by the furi-
ous and ungovernable anger with which he had now ordered him.
to be severely beaten. Plutarch then replied with deliberate calm-
ness: "But why, rascal, do I now seem to you to be in anger?
Is it from my countenance, my voice, my color, or my words, that
you conceive me to be angry? I cannot think that my eyes be-
tray any ferocity, nor is my countenance disturbed or my voice
boisterous; neither do I foam at the mouth, nor are my cheeks
red; nor do I say anything indecent or to be repented of; nor
do I tremble or seem greatly agitated. These, though you may
not know it, are the usual signs of anger. " Then, turning to the
person who was whipping him: "Whilst this man and I," said
he, "are disputing, do you go on with your employment. "
XI-392


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6258
AULUS GELLIUS
DISCUSSION ON ONE OF SOLON'S LAWS
IN THOSE Very ancient laws of Solon which were inscribed at
Athens on wooden tables, and which, from veneration to him,
the Athenians, to render eternal, had sanctioned with punish-
ments and religious oaths, Aristotle relates there was one to this
effect: If in any tumultuous dissension a sedition should ensue,
and the people divide themselves into two parties, and from this
irritation of their minds both sides should take arms and fight;
then he who in this unfortunate period of civil discord should
join himself to neither party, but should individually withdraw
himself from the common calamity of the city, should be deprived
of his house, his family and fortunes, and be driven into exile
from his country. When I had read this law of Solon, who was
eminent for his wisdom, I was at first impressed with great
astonishment, wondering for what reason he should think those
men deserving of punishment who withdrew themselves from
sedition and a civil war. Then a person who had profoundly
and carefully examined the use and purport of this law, affirmed
that it was calculated not to increase but terminate sedition; and
indeed it really is so, for if all the more respectable, who were
at first unable to check sedition, and could not overawe the
divided and infatuated people, join themselves to one part or
other, it will happen that when they are divided on both sides,
and each party begins to be ruled and moderated by them, as
men of superior influence, harmony will by their means be sooner
restored and confirmed; for whilst they regulate and temper their
own parties respectively, they would rather see their opponents
conciliated than destroyed. Favorinus the philosopher was of
opinion that the same thing ought to be done in the disputes of
brothers and of friends: that they who are benevolently inclined
to both sides, but have little influence in restoring harmony,
from being considered as doubtful friends, should decidedly take
one part or other; by which act they will obtain more effectual
power in restoring harmony to both. At present, says he, the
friends of both think they do well by leaving and deserting both,
thus giving them up to malignant or sordid lawyers, who inflame
their resentments and disputes from animosity or from avarice.


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AULUS GELLIUS
6259
THE NATURE OF SIGHT
I HAVE remarked various opinions among philosophers concern-
ing the causes of sight and the nature of vision. The Stoics
affirm the causes of sight to be an emission of radii from the
eyes against those things which are capable of being seen, with
an expansion at the same time of the air. But Epicurus thinks
that there proceed from all bodies certain images of the bodies
themselves, and that these impress themselves upon the eyes, and
that thence arises the sense of sight. Plato is of opinion that a
species of fire and light issues from the eyes, and that this, being
united and continued either with the light of the sun or the light
of some other fire, by its own, added to the external force, en-
ables us to see whatever it meets and illuminates.
But on these things it is not worth while to trifle further; and
I recur to an opinion of the Neoptolemus of Ennius, whom I
have before mentioned: he thinks that we should taste of phi-
losophy, but not plunge in it over head and ears.
EARLIEST LIBRARIES
PISISTRATUS the tyrant is said to have been the first who sup-
plied books of the liberal sciences at Athens for public use.
Afterwards the Athenians themselves with great care and pains
increased their number; but all this multitude of books, Xerxes,
when he obtained possession of Athens and burned the whole of
the city except the citadel, seized and carried away to Persia.
But King Seleucus, who was called Nicanor, many years after-
wards, was careful that all of them should be again carried back
to Athens.
A prodigious number of books were in succeeding times col-
lected by the Ptolemies in Egypt, to the amount of near seven
hundred thousand volumes. But in the first Alexandrine war the
whole library, during the plunder of the city, was destroyed by
fire; not by any concerted design, but accidentally by the auxil-
iary soldiers.
REALISTIC ACTING
THERE was an actor in Greece of great celebrity, superior to
the rest in the grace and harmony of his voice and action. His
name, it is said, was Polus, and he acted in the tragedies of the


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6260
AULUS GELLIUS
This
more eminent poets, with great knowledge and accuracy.
Polus lost by death his only and beloved son. When he had
sufficiently indulged his natural grief, he returned to his employ-
ment. Being at this time to act the Electra' of Sophocles at
Athens, it was his part to carry an urn as containing the bones
of Orestes. The argument of the fable is so imagined that
Electra, who is presumed to carry the relics of her brother,
laments and commiserates his end, who is believed to have died a
violent death. Polus, therefore, clad in the mourning habit of
Electra, took from the tomb the bones and urn of his son, and
as if embracing Orestes, filled the place, not with the image and
imitation, but with the sighs and lamentations of unfeigned sor-
row. Therefore, when a fable seemed to be represented, real
grief was displayed.
THE ATHLETE'S END
MILO of Crotona, a celebrated wrestler, who as is recorded
was crowned in the fiftieth Olympiad, met with a lamentable and
extraordinary death. When, now an old man, he had desisted
from his athletic art and was journeying alone in the woody
parts of Italy, he saw an oak very near the roadside, gaping in
the middle of the trunk, with its branches extended: willing, I
suppose, to try what strength he had left, he put his fingers into
the fissure of the tree, and attempted to pluck aside and sepa-
rate the oak, and did actually tear and divide it in the middle;
but when the oak was thus split in two, and he relaxed his hold
as having accomplished his intention, upon a cessation of the
force it returned to its natural position, and left the man, when
it united, with his hands confined, to be torn by wild beasts.
Translation of Rev. W. Beloe.
"


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6261
G&E T
ge
ed st
ed, ra
R. R. S
GESTA ROMANORUM
W
HAT are the 'Gesta Romanorum? ? The most curious and in-
teresting of all collections of popular tales. Negatively, one
thing they are not: that is, they are not Deeds of the Romans,
the acts of the heirs of the Cæsars. All such allusions are the purest
fantasy. The great "citee of Rome," and some oddly dubbed em-
peror thereof, indeed the entire background, are in truth as unhistor-
ical and imaginary as the tale itself.
Such stories are very old. So far back did they spring that it
would be idle to conjecture their origin. In the centuries long before
Caxton, the centuries before manuscript-writing filled up the leisure
hours of the monks, the Gesta,' both in the Orient and in the Occi-
dent, were brought forth. Plain, direct, and unvarnished, they are the
form in which the men of ideas of those rude times approached and
entertained, by accounts of human joy and woe, their brother men of
action. Every race of historic importance, from the eastern Turanians
to the western Celts, has produced such legends. Sometimes they
delight the lover of folk-lore; sometimes they belong to the Dryasdust
antiquarian. But our Gesta,' with their directness and naïveté, with
their occasional beauty of diction and fine touches of sympathy and
imagination,—even with their Northern lack of grace, —are properly
a part of literature. In these Deeds' is found the plot or ground-
plan of such master works as 'King Lear' and the 'Merchant of
Venice,' and the first cast of material refined by Chaucer, Gower,
Lydgate, Schiller, and other writers.
Among the people in medieval times such tales evidently passed
from mouth to mouth. They were the common food of fancy and
delight to our forefathers, as they gathered round the fire in stormy
weather. Their recital enlivened the women's unnumbered hours of
spinning, weaving, and embroidery. As the short days of the year
came on, there must have been calls for The Knights of Baldak and
Lombardy,' 'The Three Caskets,' or 'The White and Black Daugh-
ters,' as nowadays we go to our book-shelves for the stories that the
race still loves, and ungraciously enjoy the silent telling.
Such folk-stories as those in the Gesta' are in the main made
of, must have passed from district to district and even from nation
to nation, by many channels,- chief among them the constant wan-
derings of monks and minstrels,- becoming the common heritage of
many peoples, and passing from secular to sacerdotal use. The


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6262
GESTA ROMANORUM
mediæval Church, with the acuteness that characterized it, seized on
the pretty tales, and adding to them the moralizing which a crude
system of ethics enjoined, carried its spoils to the pulpit. Even the
fables of pagan Æsop were thus employed.
In the twelfth century the ecclesiastical forces were appropriating
to their use whatever secular rights and possessions came within
their grasp.
A common ardor permitted and sustained this aggran-
dizement, and the devotion that founded and swelled the mendicant
orders of Francis and Dominic, and led the populace to carry with
prayers and psalm-singing the stones of which great cathedrals were
built, readily gave their hearth-tales to illustrate texts and inculcate
doctrines. A habit of interpreting moral and religious precepts by
allegory led to the far-fetched, sometimes droll, and always naïve
"moralities" which commonly follow each one of the 'Gesta. ' The
more popular the tale, the more easily it held the attention; and the
priests with telling directness brought home the moral to the simple-
minded. The innocent joys and sad offenses of humanity interpreted.
the Church's whole system of theology, and the stories, committed to
writing by the priests, were thus preserved.
The secular tales must have been used in the pulpit for some
time before their systematic collection was undertaken. The zeal for
compiling probably reached its height in the age of Pierre Bercheure,
who died in 1362. To Bercheure, prior of the Benedictine Convent
of St. Eloi at Paris, the collection of Gesta Romanorum' has been
ascribed. A German scholar, however, Herr Österley, who published
in 1872 the result of an investigation of one hundred and sixty-five
manuscripts, asserts that the 'Gesta' were originally compiled towards
the end of the thirteenth century in England, from which country
they were taken to the Continent, there undergoing various altera-
tions. "The popularity of the original 'Gesta,'" says Sir F, Madden,
"not only on the Continent but among the English clergy, appears
to have induced some person, apparently in the reign of Richard
the Second, to undertake a similar compilation in this country. " The
'Anglo-Latin Gesta' is the immediate original of the early English
translation from which the following stories are taken, with slight
verbal changes.
The word Gesta, in medieval Latin, means notable or historic act
or exploit. The Church, drawing all power, consequence, and grace
from Rome, naturally looked back to the Roman empire for historic
examples. In this fact we find the reason of the name. The tales
betray an entire ignorance of history. In one, for example, a statue
is raised to Julius Cæsar twenty-two years after the founding of
Rome; while in another, Socrates, Alexander, and the Emperor Clau-
dius are living together in Rome.


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GESTA ROMANORUM
6263
P
It is a pleasant picture which such legends bring before our eyes.
The old parish church of England, which with its yards is a common
meeting-place for the people's fairs and wakes, and even for their
beer-brewing; the simple rustics forming the congregation; the ton-
sured head of the priest rising above the pulpit,- a monk from the
neighboring abbey, who earns his brown bread and ale and venison
by endeavors to move the moral sentiments which lie at the root of
the Anglo-Saxon character and beneath the apparent stolidity of each
yokel. Many of the tales are unfit for reproduction in our more
mincing times. The faithlessness of wives-with no reference what-
ever to the faithlessness of husbands-is a favorite theme with these
ancient cenobites.
It is possible, Herr Österley thinks, that the conjecture of Francis
Douce may be true, and the 'Gesta' may after all have been compiled
in Germany. But the bulk of the evidence goes to prove an English
origin. The earliest editions were published at Utrecht and at Co-
logne. The English translation, from the text of the Latin of the
reign of Richard II. , was first printed by Wynkyn de Worde between
1510 and 1515. In 1577 Richard Robinson published a revised edition
of Wynkyn de Worde's. The work became again popular, and between
1648 and 1703 at least eight issues were sold. An English translation
by Charles Swan from the Latin text was first published in 1824, and
reissued under the editorship of Thomas Wright in 1872 as a part of
Bohn's Library.
THEODOSIUS THE EMPEROURE*
TH
HEODOSIUS reigned a wise emperour in the cite of Rome, and
mighty he was of power; the which emperoure had three
doughters. So it liked to this emperour to knowe which of
his doughters loved him best; and then he said to the eldest
doughter, "How much lovest thou me? " "Forsoth," quoth she,
«< more than I do myself. " "Therefore," quoth he, "thou shalt
be heighly advanced;" and married her to a riche and mighty
kyng. Then he came to the second, and said to her, "Doughter,
how muche lovest thou me? " "As muche forsoth," she said, “as
I do myself. " So the emperoure married her to a duke. And
then he said to the third doughter, "How much lovest thou
me? »
"Forsoth," quoth she, "as muche as ye be worthy, and
no more. " Then said the emperoure, "Doughter, since thou
lovest me no more, thou shalt not be married so richely as thy
sisters be. " And then he married her to an earl.
*The story of King Lear and his three daughters.


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6264
GESTA ROMANORUM
After this it happened that the emperour held battle against
the Kyng of Egipt, and the kyng drove the emperour oute of
the empire, in so muche that the emperour had no place to abide
inne. So he wrote lettres ensealed with his ryng to his first
doughter that said that she loved him more than her self, for to
pray her of succoring in that great need, bycause he was put out
of his empire. And when the doughter had red these lettres she
told it to the kyng her husband. Then quoth the kyng, "It is
good that we succor him in his need. I shall," quoth he, "gather
an host and help him in all that I can or may; and that will not
be done withoute great costage. " "Yea," quoth she, "it were
sufficiant if that we would graunt him V knyghtes to be fellow-
ship with him while he is oute of his empire. " And so it was
done indeed; and the doughter wrote again to the fader that
other help might he not have, but V knyghtes of the kynges to
be in his fellowship, at the coste of the kyng her husband.
And when the emperour heard this he was hevy in his hert
and said, "Alas! alas!
all my trust was in her; for she said she
loved me more than herself, and therefore I advanced her so
high. "
Then he wrote to the second, that said she loved him as
much as her self. And when she had herd his lettres she shewed
his erand to her husband, and gave him in counsel that he should
find him mete and drink and clothing, honestly as for the state
of such a lord, during tyme of his nede; and when this was
graunted she wrote lettres agein to hir fadir.
The Emperour was hevy with this answere, and said, "Since
my two doughters have thus grieved me, in sooth I shall prove
the third. "
And so he wrote to the third that she loved him as muche as
he was worthy; and prayed her of succor in his nede, and told
her the answere of her two sisters. So the third doughter, when
she considered the mischief of her fader, she told her husbond in
this fourme: "My worshipful lord, do succor me now in this great
nede; my fadir is put out of his empire and his heritage. " Then
spake he, "What were thy will I did thereto ? » "That ye gather
a great host," quoth she, "and help him to fight against his ene-
mys. " "I shall fulfill thy will," said the earl; and gathered a
greate hoste and wente with the emperour at his owne costage to
the battle, and had the victorye, and set the emperour again in
his heritage.


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GESTA ROMANORUM
6265
And then said the emperour, "Blessed be the hour I gat my
yonest doughter! I loved her lesse than any of the others, and
now in my nede she hath succored me, and the others have failed
me, and therefore after my deth she shall have mine empire. »
And so it was done in dede; for after the deth of the emperour
the youngest doughter reigned in his sted, and ended peacefully.
MORALITE
Dere Frendis, this emperour may be called each woridly man,
the which hath three doughters. The first doughter, that saith,
"I love my fadir more than my self," is the worlde, whom a man
loveth so well that he expendeth all his life about it; but what
tyme he shall be in nede of deth, scarcely if the world will for
all his love give him five knyghtes, scil. v. boards for a coffin to
lay his body inne in the sepulcre. The second doughter, that
loveth her fader as muche as her selfe, is thy wife or thy child-
ren or thy kin, the whiche will haply find thee in thy nede to
the tyme that thou be put in the erthe. And the third doughter,
that loveth thee as muche as thou art worthy, is our Lord God,
whom we love too little. But if we come to him in tyme of oure
nede with a clene hert and mynd, withoute doute we shall have
help of him against the Kyng of Egipt, scil. the Devil; and he
shall set us in our owne heritage, scil. the kyngdome of heven.
Ad quod nos [etc. ].
ANCELMUS THE EMPEROUR*
A
NCELMUS reigned emperour in the cite of Rome, and he
wedded to wife the Kinges doughter of Jerusalem, the
which was a faire woman and long dwelte in his company.
Happing in a certaine evening as he walked after his
supper in a fair green, and thought of all the worlde, and
especially that he had no heir, and how that the Kinge of Naples
strongly therefore noyed [harmed] him each year; and so whenne
it was night he went to bed and took a sleep and dreamed this:
He saw the firmament in its most clearnesse, and more clear
than it was wont to be, and the moon was more pale; and on a
parte of the moon was a faire-colored bird, and beside her stood
* The story of the three caskets in The Merchant of Venice. '


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6266
GESTA ROMANORUM
two beasts, the which nourished the bird with their heat and
breath. After this came divers beasts and birds flying, and they
sang so sweetly that the emperour was with the song awaked.
Thenne on the morrow the emperoure had great marvel of
his sweven [dream], and called to him divinours [soothsayers]
and lords of all the empire, and saide to them, "Deere frendes,
telleth me what is the interpretation of my sweven, and I shall
reward you; and but if ye do, ye shall be dead. " And then they
saide, "Lord, show to us this dream, and we shall tell thee the
interpretation of it. " And then the emperour told them as is
saide before, from beginning to ending. And then they were
glad, and with a great gladnesse spake to him and saide, “Sir,
this was a good sweven. For the firmament that thou sawe so
clear is the empire, the which henceforth shall be in prosperity;
the pale moon is the empresse.
The little bird is the
faire son whom the empresse shall bryng forth, when time
cometh; the two beasts been riche men and wise men that shall
be obedient to thy childe; the other beasts been other folke, that
never made homage and nowe shall be subject to thy sone; the
birds that sang so sweetly is the empire of Rome, that shall joy
of thy child's birth: and sir, this is the interpretacion of your
dream. "
When the empresse heard this she was glad enough; and soon
she bare a faire sone, and thereof was made much joy. And
when the King of Naples heard that, he thought to himselfe :
"I have longe time holden war against the emperour, and it may
not be but that it will be told to his son, when that he cometh
to his full age, howe that I have fought all my life against his
fader. Yea," thought he, "he is now a child, and it is good that
I procure for peace, that I may have rest of him when he is in
his best and I in my worste. "
So he wrote lettres to the emperour for peace to be had; and
the emperour seeing that he did that more for cause of dread
than of love, he sent him worde again, and saide that he would
make him surety of peace, with condition that he would be in
his servitude and yield him homage all his life, each year.
Thenne the kyng called his counsel and asked of them what was
best to do; and the lordes of his kyngdom saide that it was goode
to follow the emperour in his will:- "In the first ye aske of him
surety of peace; to that we say thus: Thou hast a doughter and
he hath a son; let matrimony be made between them, and so


## p. 6267 (#237) ###########################################

GESTA ROMANORUM
6267
there shall be good sikernesse [sureness]; also it is good to make
him homage and yield him rents. " Thenne the kyng sent word
to the emperour and saide that he would fulfill his will in all
points, and give his doughter to his son in wife, if that it were
pleasing to him.
This answer liked well the emperour. So lettres were made
of this covenaunt; and he made a shippe to be adeyned [pre-
pared], to lead his doughter with a certain of knightes and ladies.
to the emperour to be married with his sone. And whenne they
were in the shippe and hadde far passed from the lande, there
rose up a great horrible tempest, and drowned all that were in
the ship, except the maid. Thenne the maide set all her hope
strongly in God; and at the last the tempest ceased; but then
followed strongly a great whale to devoure this maid. And
whenne she saw that, she muche dreaded; and when the night
come, the maid, dreading that the whale would have swallowed
the ship, smote fire at a stone, and had great plenty of fire; and
as long as the fire lasted the whale durst come not near, but
about cock's crow the mayde, for great vexacion that she had
with the tempest, fell asleep, and in her sleep the fire went out;
and when it was out the whale came nigh and swallowed both
the ship and the mayde. And when the mayde felt that she was
in the womb of a whale, she smote and made great fire, and
grievously wounded the whale with a little knife, in so much
that the whale drew to the land and died; for that is the kind
to draw to the land when he shall die.
And in this time there was an earl named Pirius, and he
walked in his disport by the sea, and afore him he sawe the
whale come toward the land. He gathered great help and
strength of men; and with diverse instruments they smote the
whale in every part of him. And when the damsell heard the
great strokes she cried with an high voice and saide, "Gentle
sirs, have pity on me, for I am the doughter of a king, and a
mayde have been since I was born. " Whenne the earl heard
this he marveled greatly, and opened the whale and took oute
the damsell. Thenne the maide tolde by order how that she was
a kyng's doughter, and how she lost her goods in the sea, and
how she should be married to the son of the emperour. And
when the earl heard these words he was glad, and helde the
maide with him a great while, till tyme that she was well com-
forted; and then he sent her solemnly to the emperour.


## p. 6268 (#238) ###########################################

6268
GESTA ROMANORUM
whenne he saw her coming, and heard that she had tribulacions
in the sea, he had great compassion for her in his heart, and
saide to her, "Goode damsell, thou hast suffered muche anger for
the love of my son; nevertheless, if that thou be worthy to have
him I shall soon prove. >>>
The emperour had made III. vessells, and the first was of
clean [pure] golde and full of precious stones outwarde, and
within full of dead bones; and it had a superscription in these
words: They that choose me shall find in me that they deserve.
The second vessell was all of clean silver, and full of worms:
and outwarde it had this superscription: They that choose me
shall find in me that nature and kind desireth. And the third
vessell was of lead and within was full of precious stones, and
without was set this scripture [inscription]: They that choose me
shall find in me that God hath disposed. These III. vessells
tooke the emperour and showed the maide, saying, "Lo! deer
damsell, here are three worthy vessellys, and if thou choose
[the] one of these wherein is profit and right to be chosen, then
thou shalt have my son to husband; and if thou choose that that
is not profitable to thee nor to no other, forsooth, thenne thou
shalt not have him. "
Whenne the doughter heard this and saw the three vessells,
she lifted up her eyes to God and saide: "Thou, Lord, that
knowest all things, graunt me thy grace now in the need of this
time, scil. that I may choose at this time, wherethrough [through
which] I may joy the son of the emperour and have him to hus-
band. " Thenne she beheld the first vessell that was so subtly
[cunningly] made, and read the superscription; and thenne she
thought, “What have I deserved for to have so precious a ves-
sell? and though it be never so gay without, I know not how
foul it is within; " so she tolde the emperour that she would by
no way choose that. Thenne she looked to the second, that was
of silver, and read the superscription; and thenne she said,
"My nature and kind asketh but delectation of the flesh, for-
sooth, sir," quoth she; "and I refuse this. " Thenne she looked
to the third, that was of lead, and read the superscription, and
then she saide, "In sooth, God disposed never evil; forsooth, that
which God hath disposed will I take and choose. "
And when the emperour sawe that he saide, "Goode dame-
sell, open now that vessell and see what thou hast found. " And
when it was opened it was full of gold and precious stones.


## p. 6269 (#239) ###########################################

GESTA ROMANORUM
6269
And thenne the emperour saide to her again, Damesell, thou
hast wisely chosen and won my son to thine husband. " So the
day was set of their bridal, and great joy was made; and the son
reigned after the decease of the fadir, the which made faire
ende. Ad quod nos perducat! Amen.
MORALITE
«
DEERE frendis, this emperour is the Father of Heaven, the
whiche made man ere he tooke flesh. The empress that con-
ceived was the blessed Virgin, that conceived by the annuncia-
tion of the angel. The firmament was set in his most clearnesse,
scil. the world was lighted in all its parts by the concepcion of
the empress Our Lady.
The little bird that passed from
the side of the moon is our Lord Jesus Christ, that was born at
midnight and lapped [wrapped] in clothes and set in the crib.
The two beasts are the oxen and the asses. The beasts that
come from far parts are the herds [shepherds] to whom the
angels saide, Ecce annuncio vobis gaudium magnum, - "Lo! I
shew you a great joy. " The birds that sang so sweetly are
angels of heaven, that sang Gloria in excelsis Deo. The king
that held such war is mankind, that was contrary to God while
that it was in power of the Devil; but when our Lord Jesus
Christ was born, then mankind inclined to God, and sent for
peace to be had, when he took baptism and saide that he gave
him to God and forsook the Devil. Now the king gave his
doughter to the son of the emperour, scil. each one of us ought
to give to God our soul in matrimony; for he is ready to receive
her to his spouse [etc. ].
HOW AN ANCHORESS WAS TEMPTED BY THE DEVIL
THE
HERE was a woman some time in the world living that sawe
the wretchedness, the sins, and the unstableness that was in
the worlde; therefore she left all the worlde, and wente into
the deserte, and lived there many years with roots and grasse,
and such fruit as she might gete; and dranke water of the welle-
spryng, for othere livelihood had she none. Atte laste, when she
had longe dwelled there in that place, the Devil in likenesse of a
woman, come to this holy woman's place; and when he come there
he knocked at the door. The holy woman come to the door and


## p. 6270 (#240) ###########################################

6270
GESTA ROMANORUM
asked what she would? She saide, "I pray thee, dame, that thou
wilt harbor me this night; for this day is at an end, and I am
afeard that wild beasts should devour me. " The good woman
saide, "For God's love ye are welcome to me; and take such as
God sendeth. " They sat them down together, and the good
woman sat and read saints' lives and other good things, till she
come to this writing, "Every tree that bringeth not forth good
fruit shall be caste downe, and burnt in helle. " "That is sooth,"
saide the Fiend, "and therefore I am adread; for if we lead
oure life alone, therefore we shall have little meed, for when we
dwelle alone we profit none but oure self. Therefore it were
better, me thinketh, to go and dwelle among folke, for to give
example to man and woman dwelling in this worlde. Then shall
we have much meed. " When this was saide they went to reste.
This good woman thought faste in her heart that she might not
sleep nor have no rest, for the thing that the Fiend had said.
Anon this woman arose and saide to the other woman,
"This
night might I have no reste for the words that thou saide yester
even. Therefore I wot never what is best to be done for us. ”
Then the Devil said to her again, "It is best to go forth to profit
to othere that shall be glad of oure coming, for that is much
more worth than to live alone. " Then saide the woman to the
Fiend, "Go we now forthe on oure way, for me thinketh it is not
evil to essay. " And when she should go oute at the door, she
stood still, and said thus, "Now, sweet Lady, Mother of mercy,
and help at all need, now counsell me the beste, and keep me
both body and soule from deadly sin. " When she had said these
words with good heart and with good will, oure Lady come and
laide her hande on her breast, and put her in again, and bade
her that she should abide there, and not be led by falsehood of
oure Enemy. The Fiend anon went away that she saw him no
more there. Then she was full fain that she was kept and not
beguiled of her enemy. Then she said on this wise to oure
Blessed Lady that is full of mercy and goodnesse, "I thanke thee
nowe with all my heart, specially for this keeping and many more
that thou hast done to me oft since; and good Lady, keep me
from henceforward. " Lo! here may men and women see how
ready this good Lady is to help her servants at all their need,
when they call to her for help, that they fall not in sin bestirring
of the wicked enemy the false Fiend.


## p. 6270 (#241) ###########################################



## p. 6270 (#242) ###########################################


EDWARD GIBBON.


## p. 6270 (#243) ###########################################

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## p. 6270 (#244) ###########################################


EDWARD GIBBON


## p. 6271 (#245) ###########################################

6271
EDWARD GIBBON
(1737-1794)
BY W. E. H. LECKY
HE history of Gibbon has been described by John Stuart Mill
as the only eighteenth-century history that has withstood.
nineteenth-century criticism; and whatever objections mod-
ern critics may bring against some of its parts, the substantial justice
of this verdict will scarcely be contested. No other history of that
century has been so often reprinted, annotated, and discussed, or
remains to the present day a capital authority on the great period of
which it treats. As a composition it stands unchallenged and con-
spicuous among the masterpieces of English literature, while as a
history it covers a space of more than twelve hundred years, includ-
ing some of the most momentous events in the annals of mankind.
Gibbon was born at Putney, Surrey, April 27th, 1737. Though his
father was a member of Parliament and the owner of a moderate
competence, the author of this great work was essentially a self-
educated man. Weak health and almost constant illness in early boy-
hood broke up his school life, which appears to have been fitfully
and most imperfectly conducted,-withdrew him from boyish games,
but also gave him, as it has given to many other shy and sedentary
boys, an early and inveterate passion for reading. His reading, how-
ever, was very unlike that of an ordinary boy. He has given a
graphic picture of the ardor with which, when he was only fourteen,
he flung himself into serious but unguided study; which was at first
purely desultory, but gradually contracted into historic lines, and
soon concentrated itself mainly on that Oriental history which he
was one day so brilliantly to illuminate. "Before I was sixteen," he
says, "I had exhausted all that could be learned in English of the
Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks; and the same ardor led
me to guess at the French of D'Herbelot, and to construe the bar-
barous Latin of Pocock's 'Abulfaragius. › »
His health however gradually improved, and when he entered
Magdalen College, Oxford, it might have been expected that a new
period of intellectual development would have begun; but Oxford had
at this time sunk to the lowest depth of stagnation, and to Gibbon
it proved extremely uncongenial. He complained that he found no
guidance, no stimulus, and no discipline, and that the fourteen


## p. 6272 (#246) ###########################################

6272
EDWARD GIBBON
months he spent there were the most idle and unprofitable of his life.
They were very unexpectedly cut short by his conversion to the
Roman Catholic faith, which he formally adopted at the age of six-
teen.
This conversion is, on the whole, the most surprising incident of
his calm and uneventful life. The tendencies of the time, both in
England and on the Continent, were in a wholly different direction.
The more spiritual and emotional natures were now passing into
the religious revival of Wesley and Whitefield, which was slowly
transforming the character of the Anglican Church and laying the
foundations of the great Evangelical party. In other quarters the
predominant tendencies were towards unbelief, skepticism, or indif-
ference. Nature seldom formed a more skeptical intellect than that
of Gibbon, and he was utterly without the spiritual insight, or spiritual
cravings, or overmastering enthusiasms, that produce and explain most
religious changes. Nor was he in the least drawn towards Catholi-
cism on its æsthetic side. He had never come in contact with its
worship or its professors; and to his unimaginative, unimpassioned,
and profoundly intellectual temperament, no ideal type could be
more uncongenial than that of the saint. He had however from early
youth been keenly interested in theological controversies. He argued,
like Lardner and Paley, that miracles are the Divine attestation of
orthodoxy. Middleton convinced him that unless the Patristic writers
were wholly undeserving of credit, the gift of miracles continued in
the Church during the fourth and fifth centuries; and he was unable
to resist the conclusion that during that period many of the leading
doctrines of Catholicism had passed into the Church. The writings
of the Jesuit Parsons, and still more the writings of Bossuet, com-
pleted the work which Middleton had begun. Having arrived at this
conclusion, Gibbon acted on it with characteristic honesty, and was
received into the Church on the 8th of June, 1753.
The English universities were at this time purely Anglican bodies,
and the conversion of Gibbon excluded him from Oxford. His father
judiciously sent him to Lausanne to study with a Swiss pastor named
Pavilliard, with whom he spent five happy and profitable years. The
theological episode was soon terminated. Partly under the influence
of his teacher, but much more through his own reading and reflec-
tions, he soon disentangled the purely intellectual ties that bound him
to the Church of Rome; and on Christmas Day, 1754, he received the
sacrament in the Protestant church of Lausanne.
His residence at Lausanne was very useful to him. He had access
to books in abundance, and his tutor, who was a man of great good
sense and amiability but of no remarkable capacity, very judiciously
left his industrious pupil to pursue his studies in his own way.


## p. 6273 (#247) ###########################################

EDWARD GIBBON
6273
"Hiving wisdom with each studious year,” as Byron so truly says,
he speedily amassed a store of learning which has seldom been
equaled. His insatiable love of knowledge, his rare capacity for con-
centrated, accurate, and fruitful study, guided by a singularly sure
and masculine judgment, soon made him, in the true sense of the
word, one of the best scholars of his time. His learning, however, was
not altogether of the kind that may be found in a great university
professor. Though the classical languages became familiar to him, he
never acquired or greatly valued the minute and finished scholarship
which is the boast of the chief English schools; and careful students
have observed that in following Greek books he must have very largely
used the Latin translations. Perhaps in his capacity of historian this
deficiency was rather an advantage than the reverse. It saved him
from the exaggerated value of classical form, and from the neglect of
the more corrupt literatures, to which English scholars have been often
prone. Gibbon always valued books mainly for what they contained,
and he had early learned the lesson which all good historians should
learn that some of his most valuable materials will be found in lit-
eratures that have no artistic merit; in writers who, without theory
and almost without criticism, simply relate the facts which they have
seen, and express in unsophisticated language the beliefs and impres-
sions of their time.
Lausanne and not Oxford was the real birthplace of his intellect,
and he returned from it almost a foreigner. French had become as
familiar to him as his own tongue; and his first book, a somewhat
superficial essay on the study of literature, was published in the
French language. The noble contemporary French literature filled
him with delight, and he found on the borders of the Lake of Geneva
a highly cultivated society to which he was soon introduced, and
which probably gave him more real pleasure than any in which
he afterwards moved. With Voltaire himself he had some slight
acquaintance, and he at one time looked on him with profound ad-
miration; though fuller knowledge made him sensible of the flaws
in that splendid intellect. I am here concerned with the life of Gib-
bon only in as far as it discloses the influences that contributed to
his master work, and among these influences the foreign element
holds a prominent place. There was little in Gibbon that was dis-
tinctively English; his mind was essentially cosmopolitan. His tastes,
ideals, and modes of thought and feeling turned instinctively to the
Continent.
In one respect this foreign type was of great advantage to his work,
Gibbon excels all other English historians in symmetry, proportion,
perspective, and arrangement, which are also the pre-eminent and
characteristic merits of the best French literature. We find in his
writing nothing of the great miscalculations of space that were made
XI-393


## p. 6274 (#248) ###########################################

6274
EDWARD GIBBON
by such writers as Macaulay and Buckle; nothing of the awkward
repetitions, the confused arrangement, the semi-detached and dis-
jointed episodes that mar the beauty of many other histories of no
small merit. Vast and multifarious as are the subjects which he
has treated, his work is a great whole, admirably woven in all its
parts. On the other hand, his foreign taste may perhaps be seen in
his neglect of the Saxon element, which is the most vigorous and
homely element in English prose. Probably in no other English
writer does the Latin element so entirely predominate. Gibbon never
wrote an unmeaning and very seldom an obscure sentence; he could
always paint with sustained and stately eloquence an illustrious char-
acter or a splendid scene: but he was wholly wanting in the grace of
simplicity, and a monotony of glitter and of mannerism is the great
defect of his style. He possessed, to a degree which even Tacitus
and Bacon had hardly surpassed, the supreme literary gift of conden-
sation, and it gives an admirable force and vividness to his nar-
rative; but it is sometimes carried to excess. Not unfrequently it
is attained by an excessive allusiveness, and a wide knowledge of
the subject needed to enable the reader to perceive the full im-
port and meaning conveyed or hinted at by a mere turn of phrase.
But though his style is artificial and pedantic, and greatly wanting
in flexibility, it has a rare power of clinging to the memory, and it
has profoundly influenced English prose. That excellent judge Car-
dinal Newman has said of Gibbon, "I seem to trace his vigorous
condensation and peculiar rhythm at every turn in the literature
of the present day. "
It is not necessary to relate here in any detail the later events of
the life of Gibbon. There was his enlistment as captain in the
Hampshire militia. It involved two and a half years of active serv-
ice, extending from May 1760 to December 1762; and as Gibbon
afterwards acknowledged, if it interrupted his studies and brought
him into very uncongenial duties and societies, it at least greatly en-
larged his acquaintance with English life, and also gave him a
knowledge of the rudiments of military science, which was not with-
out its use to the historian of so many battles. There was a long
journey, lasting for two years and five months, in France and Italy,
which greatly confirmed his foreign tendencies. In Paris he moved
familiarly in some of the best French literary society; and in Rome,
as he tells us in a well-known passage, while he sat "musing amidst
the ruins of the Capitol while the barefooted friars were singing
vespers in the Temple of Jupiter" (which is now the Church of the
Ara Cœli), on October 15th, 1764,- he first conceived the idea of
writing the history of the decline and fall of Rome.
—
There was also that very curious episode in his life, lasting from
1774 to 1782,- his appearance in the House of Commons. He had


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EDWARD GIBBON
6275
declined an offer of his father's to purchase a seat for him in 1760;
and fourteen years later, when his father was dead, when his own
circumstances were considerably contracted, he received and accepted
at the hands of a family connection the offer of a seat.