SELIM
Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature
Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
Edited by - Dirigida por
Mercedes Salvador-Bello & S. G. Fernández-Corugedo
Nº 20
Oviedo, 2013–2014
Universidad de Oviedo &
Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
Oviedo – Málaga
SELIM
Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature
Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
Edited by - Dirigida por
Mercedes Salvador-Bello & S. G. Fernández-Corugedo
Nº 20
Oviedo, 2013–2014
Universidad de Oviedo &
Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
Oviedo – Málaga
SELIM
Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature
Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
SELIM wishes to thank the University of Oviedo for support towards the
publication of this journal.
As of March 2015, SELIM is listed in the following reference indexes: DIALNET,
DICE, ERIH, ISOC, Latindex, MIAR, MLA, MRHA and RESH.
Compone: D. Moreno©
Edita: Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
(G14106462) - www.unioviedo.es/SELIM
Imprime: Gofer S. L. Oviedo
ISSN: 1132-631X
Depósito legal: AS/⒉138-91
Oviedo, 2015
All correspondence should be sent to:
SELIM (c/o Mercedes Salvador-Bello)
Departamento de Filología Inglesa
Facultad de Filología – Universidad de Sevilla
41004 Sevilla – Spain
[email protected]
[email protected]
www.unioviedo.es/SELIM/revista
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in the contribution of SELIM are
the sole responsibility of their authors, and do not necessarily reflect those of the
members of the Spanish Society for Medieval English Language and Literature,
the Journal Editors, the Editorial Board, the Advisory Board or the organization
to which the authors may be affiliated.
SELIM
Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature
Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
Nº 20, 2013–2014
Contents
ARTICLES
Leonard Neidorf (Harvard University): Lexical Evidence for the
Relative Chronology of Old English Poetry
7
Rafael J. Pascual (Universidad de Granada): Three-position
Verses and the Metrical Practice of the Beowulf Poet
49
Michelle P. Brown (School of Advanced Studies, University of
London): Beowulf and the Origins of the Written Old
English Vernacular
81
Simon D. Keynes (University of Cambridge): England and Spain
during the Reign of King Æthelred the Unready
121
Carla María Thomas (New York University): Orm’s Vernacular Latin
167
Kath Stevenson (Queen’s University Belfast): Some Extralinguistic Evidence for the Irish Provenance of Longleat
House, Marquess of Bath, MS 29, and Oxford, Bodleian
Library MS E Mus 232
199
Helen Cooper (University of Cambridge): Medieval Drama in the
Elizabethan Age
237
3
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
NOTES
Eneas Caro Partridge (Universidad de Sevilla): Refreshing the
Legend of Sherwood Forest: Manipulation of History and
Tradition in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (2010)
263
REVIEWS & NOTICES
Jorge Luis Bueno Alonso (Universidade de Vigo): Amodio, Mark
C. 2014: The Anglo-Saxon Literature Handbook
279
Thijs Porck (Leiden University): Fulk, R. D. 2014: An Introductory
Grammar of Old English with an Anthology of Texts
287
Ivalla Ortega-Barrera (Universidad de Las Palmas de Gran
Canaria): Calle-Martín, Javier & Miguel Ángel CastañoGil 2013: A Late Middle English Remedy-book (MS Wellcome
542, ff. 1r–20v). A Scholarly Edition
291
María del Mar Gutiérrez-Ortiz (Cornell University): Moralejo
Álvarez, José Luis 2013: Historia eclesiástica del pueblo de los
anglos. Beda el Venerable
297
Michael P. Kuczynski (Tulane University): Sáez-Hidalgo, Ana &
R. F. Yeager eds. 2014: John Gower in England and Iberia:
Manuscripts, Influences, Reception
309
Comprehensive contents to Selim I–XX
315
Author index to Selim I–XX
337
Editors’ note
359
Selim Stylesheet & Instructions to Authors
363
•
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
4
LEXICAL EVIDENCE FOR THE RELATIVE
CHRONOLOGY OF OLD ENGLISH POETRY
Abstract: This article explores the dating implications of rare vocabulary attested in Beowulf,
Genesis A, Daniel, Exodus, Maxims I, and Widsið. It argues that these poems preserve an
archaic lexical stratum, which consists of words that became obsolete before the composition
of ninth-century poetry and prose. Keywords: Beowulf, Anglo-Saxon Literature, History of
the English Language, Germanic Philology, Lexicology.
Resumen: Este artículo explora las implicaciones cronológicas de ciertos elementos léxicos
poco frecuentes que se dan en Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, Exodus, Maxims I y Widsið. El
argumento principal es que estos poemas preservan un sustrato léxico arcaico consistente en
palabras que se volvieron obsoletas antes de que la poesía y la prosa del siglo noveno fueran
compuestas. Palabras clave: Beowulf, Literatura anglosajona, Historia de la lengua inglesa,
Filología germánica, Lexicología.
inguistic attempts to establish a relative chronology
of Old English poetry can be divided into two broad
categories: the metrical and the lexical.1 Metrical studies
are concerned with the distribution of verses in which words
must scan according to their older phonological values. A poem
abounding with verses requiring archaic phonology for scansion
was probably composed much earlier than a poem exhibiting few
or no such verses. Lexical studies, on the other hand, are concerned
with the distribution of words whose restricted attestation might
possess chronological significance. A poem containing a cluster of
words that became obsolete early in the Anglo-Saxon period was
probably composed well before a poem that lacks such words and
exhibits neologisms or late borrowings. Although metrical and
lexical studies fall under the umbrella of linguistic argumentation,
L
1
Other forms of linguistic evidence tend to bear on the dating of individual poems
rather than on the relative chronology of the poetic corpus; see, for example,
the syntactic and morphological evidence discussed in Fulk 2007a. Because of
the quantity of material involved, short titles and texts cited in this study are
those used in the DOE. For the purpose of disambiguation, macrons are silently
inserted over long vowels throughout.
ISSN: 1132–631X
Leonard Neidorf, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 7–48
Leonard Neidorf
they deal with separate phenomena whose dating implications
derive from unrelated developments in the history of the English
language. Accordingly, the conclusions drawn in metrical studies
can be tested against the conclusions independently drawn in lexical
studies, and vice versa. If lexical evidence contradicts metrical
evidence, for example, this might provide some basis for querying
or refining the conclusions drawn in metrical studies. If lexical
and metrical evidence consistently demand the same chronological
conclusions, however, then the probability that these conclusions
are correct is considerably strengthened.
Metrical evidence has been studied far more intensively than
lexical evidence, with the result that several metrical criteria are
now recognized as reliable indicators of relative chronology.
Perhaps the most reliable dating criterion is the incidence of
verses requiring non-contraction or non-parasiting for scansion
(Fulk 1992: 66–121). Non-contraction is evident in verses such
as “on flett gæð” (Beo 2034b), where gæð must scan as disyllabic
*gæ-iþ, the form of this verb before it underwent contraction
during the seventh century, since the verse would otherwise
contain only three metrical positions (SS). Non-parasiting is
evident in verses such as “Đær wæs hæleþa hleahtor” (Beo 611a),
where hleahtor must scan as monosyllabic *hleahtr, the form of
this noun before it underwent parasiting in the seventh century,
since the verse would otherwise contain five metrical positions
(SS). R. D. Fulk has demonstrated that the distribution
of verses exhibiting non-contraction, non-parasiting, and other
older phonological features is remarkably consistent throughout
the corpus of longer Old English poems (1992: 348–351). Verses
requiring archaic phonology for scansion occur with the highest
incidence and greatest lexical variety in Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel,
and Exodus. The incidence of these archaisms generally declines
in Cynewulfian poetry, regresses further in Alfredian poetry, and
reaches its nadir in poems externally datable to the tenth and
eleventh centuries. The consistent pattern of their distribution
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
indicates that metrical criteria such as contraction, parasiting,
compensatory lengthening upon loss of h, and analogical
lengthening in diphthongal stems can reliably adumbrate a
relative chronology of Old English poetry.
Metrical dating scholarship has reached a fairly advanced state:
the distribution of various kinds of chronologically significant
verses throughout the corpus is well known and the validity of
several dating criteria has been established. The arguments of Fulk’s
monumental A History of Old English Meter have been repeatedly
validated in philological scholarship in the two decades since its
publication.2 Metrical studies from Geoffrey Russom, Michael
Lapidge, and Thomas A. Bredehoft have identified additional
criteria whose distribution lends independent support to Fulk’s
relative chronology of Old English poetry.3 Lexical dating
scholarship, in comparison, remains somewhat underdeveloped. In
1952, Robert J. Menner published an illuminating study, in which
he contrasted the vocabulary of Beowulf and Genesis A with that of
late poems such as The Meters of Boethius and The Paris Psalter.4
Lexical argumentation of this sort received little attention in the
dating controversies that erupted over the next few decades. The
value of restricted vocabulary went largely ignored in scholarship
until Dennis Cronan published a meticulous study in 2004, which
refined and substantially augmented Menner’s arguments. Cronan
contended that the restriction of a cluster of rare poetic simplexes
to Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, Exodus, Maxims I, and Widsið is best
explained by postulating a relatively early date of composition for
2
In addition to the studies cited in the next footnote, see Clemoes 1995: 1–67;
Griffith 1997: 44–47; Lapidge 2000; Bremmer 2004; Shippey 2005; Neidorf 2013b;
Doane 2013: 37–41, 51–55; Neidorf 2014; Hartman 2014; Clark 2014; Neidorf &
Pascual forthcoming [2015].
3
Russom 2002; Lapidge 2006; Bredehoft 2014.
4
Menner 1952 is reviewed favorably alongside other lexical dating studies in
Amos 1980: 141–156.
9
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Leonard Neidorf
these poems. His conclusion has commanded widespread assent
from scholars, with the exception of Roberta Frank, who recently
published an essay (2008) offering alternative interpretations of
Cronan’s data.
Because lexical investigation into the relative chronology of
Old English poetry is still in its infancy, much work remains to
be done both in identifying chronologically significant words and
in articulating the methodological considerations governing the
interpretation of their dating implications. The present article
aims to advance both of these enterprises and is therefore divided
into two sections. The first section gauges the relative probability
of the competing hypotheses propounded by Cronan and
Frank, and thereby reviews the existing lexical evidence for the
relative chronology. Numerous methodological considerations
emerge in this analysis, which then inform the interpretation of
new lexical data adduced in the second section of this article.
Because Cronan’s study focused on poetic simplexes restricted to
two or three poems, many words with potential chronological
significance have been excluded from consideration. The second
section of this article represents a preliminary attempt to identify
words that fell outside of the purview of Cronan’s study, but bear
on the explanatory power of his hypothesis. Of particular interest
are words whose distribution in the corpus of recorded Old
English suggests that they became obsolete early in the AngloSaxon period. The presence of these words in various poems may
constitute strong evidence for the falsification or validation of
hypotheses concerning their dates of composition. The relative
chronology erected upon other linguistic evidence will here be
tested and found to generate data that either confirm or contradict
its predictions.
1 Restricted poetic simplexes
Before individual words and the competing interpretations of their
chronological significance can be discussed, it is necessary first to
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
10
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
lay out the evidence as a whole. Cronan identified fourteen poetic
simplexes whose restricted attestation establishes a connection
between six poems. The simplexes and the poems in which
they appear are as follows: dyhtig (“strong”), fær (“vessel”), freme
(“vigorous”), and gombe (“tribute”), restricted to Beowulf and
Genesis A; eodor (“protector”), heoru (“sword”), wlenco (“bravado”),
and umbor (“child”), restricted to Beowulf and Maxims I; suhtriga
(“nephew”), restricted to Genesis A, Beowulf, and Widsið; missere
(“half-year”), restricted to Beowulf, Genesis A, and Exodus; þengel
(“lord”), restricted to Beowulf and Exodus; lufen (“joy”) and wǣfre
(“restless”), restricted to Beowulf and Daniel; and bresne (“mighty”),
restricted to Genesis A and Daniel. Cronan offered a chronological
explanation for the restriction of these words: the poems in which
they appear were probably composed at a relatively early date
and therefore preserve a stratum of inherited poetic vocabulary
unavailable to later Old English poets. As will become clear, the
value of each individual simplex is not commensurate. Some of
these words would constitute compelling dating criteria on their
own, while others would not, but it is the ability of a hypothesis to
accommodate the whole of the evidence that matters most.
The methodology of Cronan’s study and the rationale informing
his conclusion can be illustrated with his analysis of suhtriga
(nephew), the word with perhaps the clearest dating implications.
In poetry, suhtriga occurs as a simplex only in Genesis A, where it
is used four times in reference to Lot, the nephew of Abraham.5
The only other attestations of suhtriga in the poetic corpus occur
in Beowulf and Widsið, where the compound suhter(ge)fædren
(“nephew-and-uncle”) is applied to Hroðulf and Hroðgar.6 This
word is a rare example of a dvandva or copulative compound: it is one
of just four dvandvas recorded in the early Germanic languages and
represents a type of word-formation that ceased to be productive in
5
GenA 1775, 1901, 2071, 2029.
6
Beo 1164, Wid 46.
11
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Leonard Neidorf
prehistoric Old English.7 Elsewhere in the corpus of recorded Old
English, the word suhtriga appears only in glossaries, all of which
derive from an eighth-century exemplar and reflect seventh-century
glossae collectae.8 The restriction of suhtriga to Genesis A, archaic
glosses, and a fossilized compound leads Cronan to conclude that
this word must have fallen out of the English language very early
in the Anglo-Saxon period. A strong case for the obsolescence of
suhtriga can be made, moreover, since synonymous words, such as
brōðorsunu and nefa, are attested in texts throughout the AngloSaxon period. Later authors had ample opportunity to use suhtriga,
but only a seventh-century glossator and the poets of Genesis A,
Beowulf, and Widsið seem to have been aware of the word’s existence.
In her attempt to rebut Cronan’s argument, Frank raised two
objections to his interpretation of the dating implications of
suhtriga. One objection is that “suhtriga and brōðorsunu are not
exact synonyms; the poetic simplex refers to ancient founding
fathers of the tribe, figures drenched in sacrality, not to Uncle
Wally washing dishes” (2008: 7). There are several reasons why this
assertion is not credible. First, the semantic parity of brōðorsunu
and suhtriga is indicated by the fact that both of these words are
used in glossaries as the equivalent of fratuelis.9 Second, the Genesis
A poet labeled Lot both a suhtriga and a brōðorsunu; the words
were evidently synonymous to him.10 Third, when Ælfric writes of
7
See Carr 1939: 40–42. The three other copulative compounds recorded are
Old English āþumswēoran, “son-in-law and father-in-law” (Beo 84), Old Saxon
gisunfader, “son and father” (Heliand 1176), and Old High German sunufatarungo,
“son and father” (Hildebrandslied 4).
8
See Cronan 2004: 36–38; on the seventh-century origin of the glossae collectae,
see Lapidge 1986: 58.
9
For example, cf. CorpGl 2 6.320: “Fratuelis brōðorsunu;” CorpGl 2 6.319:
“Fratuelis suhterga.”
10
Lot is Abraham’s brōðorsunu in GenA 1800. Twenty-five lines earlier, Lot is
Abraham’s suhtriga.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
12
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
Lot in his translation of Genesis, he refers to him as a brōðorsunu,
not a suhtriga (see Cronan 2004: 39). In short, the restriction of
suhtriga cannot be explained by arguing that this word could only
be used in special or unparalleled contexts. Broader consideration
of the relationship between suhtriga and its synonyms suggests that
suhtriga was a mundane word for the Genesis A poet, who, like
the early glossators, used it as a functional expression for nephew.
Later authors refrained from using suhtriga not because they lacked
suitable contexts, but because the word had become obsolete.
Frank’s second objection to Cronan’s interpretation of suhtriga
is that “[i]f Cronan had selected another gloss-word of restricted
poetic distribution,” his conclusions would have been rather
different (2008: 6). Frank then proceeds to discuss the distribution
of bune (“cup”), which appears in the same glossaries as suhtriga
and in Beowulf, Maxims I, The Wanderer, and Judith.11 The import
of Frank’s discussion is that since the distribution of bune is
apparently meaningless—that is, the word appears both in poems
presumed to be early and in poems presumed to be late—then the
distribution of suhtriga should be meaningless as well. She writes:
“If the use of bune does not transform Judith and The Wanderer
into eighth-century compositions, then the presence of suhtriga in
Beowulf, Genesis A, and Widsið is no magic wand either” (2008:
7). One need not be much of a logician to recognize that Frank’s
conclusion does not follow from its premises. The distribution of
bune reveals simply that bune remained in circulation throughout
the Anglo-Saxon period. The same holds true for many words that
appear both in glossaries and in poems, such as mēce (“sword”) or
gār (“spear”).12 Yet the long lifespan of certain words cannot be
imagined to extend the short lifespan of others. The perseverance of
bune has no bearing on the obsolescence of suhtriga, and therefore
11
Beo 2775; Max I 82; Jud 17; Wan 94; HlGl C 339; CorpGl 2 3.266; ClGl 1 888.
12
See DOE Corpus search: “mece,” “gar.”
13
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Leonard Neidorf
does not diminish the probability that texts containing the latter
are early compositions.
Several other restricted simplexes permit an analysis similar to
suhtriga. One word whose early obsolescence is probable is gombe
(“tribute”), which appears only in Beowulf and Genesis A. In both
poems, it is used in the formula gomban gyldan (“pay tribute”).13
In the Heliand, the Old Saxon cognate gambra is also collocated
with gelden (355), which indicates that the formula is a common
inheritance of West Germanic poetic tradition (Cronan 2004:
29). The restriction of gombe to a formulaic expression limited to
two archaic poems suggests “that the word was obsolete in the
colloquial language, if it had ever been used there, and was on its
way to becoming obsolete in the poetry as well” (Cronan 2004:
29). Cronan’s analysis appears sound, since later poets use gafol and
gafolrǣden in reference to the rendering of tribute.14 Frank objects
to Cronan’s reasoning with the remark: “Perhaps gombe seemed a
more appropriate word for the heroic, buccaneering days of Scyld
and Abraham than its synonyms gafol or gafolrǣden, terms that in
Old English prose also meant taxes, interest on loans, and rents”
(2008: 8–9). The objection is leveled in error, however, since gafol
actually appears alongside gombe in Genesis A. The two words
alliterate and vary the expression of the same idea in the line gombon
gieldan and gafol sellan (GenA 1978); the evident parity of the two
words falsifies the notion that gombe reeked of antiquity, while gafol
evoked bureaucracy. Frank’s objection also is untenable because
Cynewulf and the Andreas poet composed about events set in the
distant past, yet they used gafol or gafolrǣden, not gombe.15 The
13
Beo 11; GenA 1978.
14
In addition to the references in the following footnote, see GuthB 986 and
Mald 33, 46.
15
Jul 529; And 296; it is worth noting that Cynewulf collocates gafol with
geārdagum in ChristII 559.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
14
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
restriction of gombe to Beowulf and Genesis A lends clear support to
Cronan’s chronological hypothesis.
Like gombe, the simplex fær (“vessel”) is found only in Beowulf
and Genesis A.16 Synonymous words appear throughout the poetic
corpus—including bāt, cēol, cnear, flēot, flota, lid, naca, and scip—
therefore Cronan regards the restriction of fær to Beowulf and
Genesis A as strong evidence of a lexical connection between the
two poems (2004: 28). Just as suhtriga was evidently displaced by
synonyms such as nefa and brōðorsunu, it is reasonable to think that
fær was lost rather early amid the multitude of comparable words.
Frank rejects this chronological explanation and argues instead that
the restriction of fær is due to the particularized meaning of the
word, which has hitherto gone unrecognized in dictionaries and
glossaries. After observing that fær is used in reference to Noah’s
ark in Genesis A and in reference to Scyld Scefing’s ship in Beowulf,
Frank writes: “For some reason, fær seemed to two Anglo-Saxon
poets the right word for a divinely propelled vessel” (2008: 8). The
notion that fær is restricted because of this purported meaning is
dubious: the poets of Beowulf and Genesis A vary the word with
commonplace terms such as cēol and scip, which suggests that these
poets did not regard fær as a semantically differentiated entity.17
But even if Frank’s ad hoc redefinition of fær were admitted, and
the word were taken to mean “divinely propelled vessel” rather
than “vessel,” this would hardly diminish the significance of its
restriction to Beowulf and Genesis A. There are many references to
divinely propelled vessels (typically arks) in later Old English texts,
yet the word fær remains restricted to two archaic poems.18
16
Beo 33; GenA 1307, 1323, 1394(?), 1419, 1544.
17
Scip: Beo 35, GenA 1306, GenA 1417. Cēol: Beo 38.
18
See DOE Corpus search: “earc.” It is worth noting that in Andreas, Christ
himself propels a vessel, which is labeled a cēol (349). If fær were the precise term
for a divinely propelled vessel, surely it would have been used in that context.
15
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Leonard Neidorf
Of the four words restricted to Beowulf and Maxims I, umbor
(“child”) is the clearest contender for early obsolescence. The simplex
umbor occurs only in Maxims I, while the compound umborwesende
(“being a child”) occurs only in Beowulf.19 Because synonymous
words such as cild, cniht, and bearn are used throughout the
extant corpus, Cronan treats umbor as strong evidence for a lexical
connection between Beowulf and Maxims I. Like the thirteen other
restricted simplexes, umbor would seem to belong to an archaic
stratum of the lexicon lost before the composition of later works.
Frank offers no alternative explanation for its restriction, which is
not surprising, given the inconspicuous and inconsequential nature
of this word.20 It would be difficult to see in the use of umbor
anything other than the straightforward deployment of a functional
word that simply fell out of the language at a relatively early date.
The restriction of þengel (“lord”) to Beowulf and Exodus is
significant, since synonymous words (dryhten, frēa, hlāford, þēoden,
etc.) are used in virtually every long Old English poem.21 Because
of the poetic status of the Old Icelandic cognate þengill, Cronan
concludes that þengel “appears to be an old poetic word which was
obsolete except for its use in the conservative diction of Beowulf and
Exodus” (2004: 41). A similar explanation is given for the restriction
of missere (“half-year”) to Beowulf, Genesis A, and Exodus.22 This
word, used in formulaic expressions for the passage of time, such as
fela missera and hund missera, was evidently supplanted early by gēar
and winter, which are used throughout the poetic corpus in parallel
expressions (2004: 40). The probability of the early obsolescence
of missere is considerable, since the existence of an Old Icelandic
cognate (missari) and the formulaic use of the word indicate that
19
Max I 31; Beo 46. 1187.
20
Frank (2008: 8) reiterates Cronan’s remarks (2004: 34–35) about umbor and
adds nothing further.
21
Beo 1507; Ex 173.
22
Beo 153, 1498, 1769, 2620; GenA 1168, 1743, 2347; Ex 49.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
16
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
it must have been part of the lexicon of prehistoric Old English,
whereas its absence from all datable texts suggests that it had fallen
out of the language by the ninth century. The restriction of missere
to Beowulf, Genesis A, and Exodus is another strong piece of evidence
supporting the hypothesis that these poems preserve an archaic
lexical stratum because they were composed at an early date.
Frank objects to Cronan’s chronological interpretation of the
restriction of þengel and missere by hypothesizing that the use of
these words reflects the influence of tenth-century skaldic poetry
(2008: 9). It is surprising to see the hypothesis of skaldic influence
on these poems resurrected, since it has been repeatedly discredited
and it involves a number of well-known improbabilities.23 Chief
among the reasons why skaldic influence is improbable is the
fact that there is no linguistic rationale for regarding the words
Frank deems “skaldic” to be late Scandinavian borrowings rather
than common Germanic inheritances. As Matthew Townend
wrote regarding Beowulf: “its 3,182 lines contain not a single clear
loanword from Old Norse, and the proposed lexical parallels are
almost certainly cognates and not loans or loan-translations”
(2000: 357). Furthermore, although Old English and Old Norse
were mutually intelligible to a limited degree, as Townend (2002)
has demonstrated, it is not reasonable to imagine that AngloSaxons could comprehend skaldic poetry. That is rather like
positing that a medieval Italian could comprehend the Latin
poetry of Aldhelm at the speed of recitation. A limited degree of
23
On the improbability of skaldic influence on Beowulf, see Fulk 1982: 343–345;
Andersson 1983: 295–297; Harris 2007; Fulk 2014. The arguments of Hofmann
(1957) for skaldic influence on Genesis A and Exodus were refuted in Irving 1959.
Stanley 1969 also rejects the possibility of Scandinavian influence on Exodus. For
a reliable account of linguistic interactions between speakers of Old English and
Old Norse, see Townend 2002; and Kastovsky 1992: 320–336. Neither Townend
nor Kastovsky nor any reputable linguist credits the notion that the influence of
the Old Norse language or skaldic poetry is discernible in Beowulf, Genesis A, or
Exodus.
17
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Leonard Neidorf
mutual intelligibility between languages hardly ensures that the
most artificial and convoluted works composed in one language
would be comprehensible to speakers of the other language.24
An additional degree of improbability attends the hypothesis
that missere is a late borrowing: the use of this word in formulaic
expressions forces proponents of skaldic influence to believe that
three poets independently chose to deploy a new word in identical
verses. The formulaic status of missere confirms that this word had
an ancient place in Germanic poetic tradition. For this reason and
many others, the hypothesis of skaldic influence is untenable, and
Cronan’s interpretation of the data must be preferred.
Frank resorts to a different line of reasoning when attempting
to explain the restriction of dyhtig (“strong”) to Beowulf and Genesis
A and the restriction of heoru (“sword”) to Beowulf and Maxims I.25
Cronan, for reasons similar to those propounded above in connection
with the other simplexes, regards the restricted attestation of dyhtig
and heoru as further evidence for the preservation of an archaic
stratum of the lexicon in a set of poems composed at a relatively
early date. Frank objects to his interpretation by arguing that dyhtig
and heoru are not genuine signs of archaic composition, but rather
are self-consciously archaizing gestures. In her view, dyhtig should
be regarded as a “ye olde sign” and so should heoru, which was
apparently selected over its numerous synonyms (bil(l), ecg, mēce,
etc.) because it “evokes bedrock beginnings in a distant longago” (2008: 9–10). This line of reasoning, which for the sake of
convenience might be labeled “the theory of conscious archaism,”
merits extended discussion in the present context, since it is one
of the objections most frequently leveled at linguistic dating
24
Ironically, Frank articulated this view in a book review: “although Opland
expertly surveys the influence of Old Norse on Old English poetic traditions in
the time of Athelstan, I remain unconvinced about the easy intelligibility of the
skalds to their English audiences” (Frank 1982: 154). The remark is surprising,
since unintelligibility would seem to obviate the possibility of lexical influence.
25
Dyhtig: Beo 1287; GenA 1993. Heoru: Beo 1258, 1590, 2358; Max I 200.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
18
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
studies. Because agnostic scholars tend to give some version of
the theory of conscious archaism as a reason for not crediting
linguistic argumentation, it remains necessary to demonstrate why
that theory lacks explanatory power and reflects an inadequate
understanding of the evidence.
The theory of conscious archaism might seem plausible at a
theoretical level, but its implausibility becomes apparent when it
moves from theoretical abstraction to concrete linguistic evidence.
The theory generates gross improbabilities, for example, when it is
deployed against the evidence for Kaluza’s law in Beowulf. The poem
carefully observes the law in sixty-two A2a verses like goldwine
gumena, in which an etymologically short desinence is resolved, and
forty-four D2 verses like eald æscwiga, in which an etymologically
long desinence suspends resolution.26 In 106 verses, the Beowulf
poet observed distinctions of etymological length in twenty-five
different desinences that became phonologically indistinct in
Mercia by around 725.27 This subtle regularity constitutes arguably
the most compelling evidence for the early composition of Beowulf.
Yet Frank, in a different paper, argued that the poem’s adherence
to Kaluza’s law is not a genuine sign of archaic composition, but a
conscious “ye olde sign” intended to evoke a bygone era (2007: 858–
860). This application of the theory of conscious archaism fails,
however, because there is no phonological reason why these verses
should have sounded archaic to Anglo-Saxon ears. Resolution and
its suspension were mundane features of Old English verse: the
only distinguishing feature of Kaluza verses is that resolution is
restricted to desinences that were short in Proto-Germanic (or
shortened in prehistoric Old English). Unless poets and audiences
consulted grammars of Proto-Germanic before a recitation of
26
For a list of the verses in Beowulf adhering to Kaluza’s law, see Bliss 1958: 27–30;
and Fulk 1992: 160–162; the literature on Kaluza’s law is reviewed in Neidorf and
Pascual forthcoming [2015].
27
See Fulk 1992: 381–392; and Fulk 2007: 321.
19
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Beowulf, they would have no basis for associating Kaluza verses with
deep antiquity. To believe that Kaluza’s law is a conscious archaism,
one must effectively believe that the Beowulf poet composed for an
audience of Germanic philologists.
Theories of conscious archaism generally force their proponents
to attribute to Anglo-Saxon poets an improbable degree of insight
into the history of the English language. The attribution tends
to be implicit, as above, but in the case of heoru, Frank explicitly
compares the Beowulf poet and the Maxims I poet to John Milton,
Seamus Heaney, and nineteenth-century philologists (2008: 10–11).
Just as Milton chose to use the word error in its etymological sense
(“wandering”), the poets behind Beowulf and Maxims I purportedly
chose to use heoru in its etymological sense (“sword”) rather than
in the generalized sense (“war, battle”) it later developed. Their
preference for the word’s etymological meaning allegedly reflects
the desire of these poets to go “back to roots” and evoke an ancient
era; as Frank notes, “Milton knew his Latin and Greek roots” (2008:
10). Yet is there any independent reason for us to believe that the
Beowulf poet or the Maxims I poet possessed special insights into
the etymology of poetic simplexes? The only evidence given for
their purported etymologizing tendency is heoru. Frank’s theory is
thus entirely ad hoc and narrowly circular: it explains and finds
support in no evidence besides the single word around which it was
developed.
The ad hoc quality of the aforementioned argument is not
surprising, since every iteration of the theory of conscious archaism
is the product of ad hoc reasoning. The theory is in essence parasitic,
because it can only be developed as an objection to a metrical or
lexical dating argument already propounded. It is doubtful that any
scholar would propose that a poem’s adherence to Kaluza’s law is
a conscious archaism if another scholar had not previously argued
that this adherence reflected a phonological regularity dating
Beowulf to c. 700. The same holds true with regard to dyhtig, gombe,
and other words Frank considers to be conscious archaisms because
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
20
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
they appear in poems set in the distant past. Since the entire poem
is set in the distant past, what independent method could be used
for distinguishing words deployed as “ye olde signs” from words
that are not? Was every word in Beowulf and Genesis A selected
for its ability to evoke a bygone era? The parasitic nature of the
theory of conscious archaism is clear from the fact that its methods
cannot rationally be employed independent of efforts to critique
linguistic dating scholarship. Marshaled in a study devoid of such
an aim, Frank’s methods for identifying some phenomena, but not
others, as conscious archaisms would appear to be as arbitrary and
impressionistic as Sievers’s Schallanalyse.28 No rational criteria can
be extracted that enable one to distinguish conscious archaisms
from regular words; the method thus belongs to divination rather
than scholarship. The ad hoc origin of the theory of conscious
archaism is made plain by its lack of reproducible methodology.
On the whole, there are two overarching reasons why Cronan’s
interpretation of the restricted poetic simplexes must be preferred
over Frank’s. The first is that Frank’s various alternative hypotheses
uniformly fail to explain the restricted attestation of the words
under consideration. The second is that Frank’s argumentation is
the product of an ad hoc mode of reasoning, which is demonstrably
inferior to Cronan’s holistic reasoning. Cronan developed a unitary
hypothesis capable of explaining all of the data: the fourteen
restricted simplexes belong to an archaic stratum of the lexicon
preserved only in six poems composed at a relatively early date. The
explanatory power of this hypothesis is elevated further by its ability
28
Schallanalyse (“sound-analysis”) was an unscientific method for identifying
interpolations developed by Eduard Sievers toward the end of his life. Sievers’s
enthusiasm for Schallanalyse is generally regarded as an unfortunate byproduct
of mental illness; it has no relationship to the Fünftypensystem for which the
great philologist remains justly famous. For an account of Schallanalyse and the
responses it generated, see Pope 1998: 185–189. Interestingly, Menner’s (1952)
lexical study emerged as an effort to refute conclusions derived from Schallanalyse
on the dating and authorship of Genesis A.
21
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to accommodate a great deal of metrical and paleographical evidence
beside the restricted simplexes.29 Frank’s several hypotheses, on the
other hand, explain nothing beside the particular phenomena at
which they are narrowly aimed. Disregarding Occam’s razor, Frank
discards a coherent hypothesis and replaces it with a multitude of
incoherent hypotheses: we are to believe that one word is a late
borrowing from skaldic verse, that another word is a “ye olde sign,”
that yet another word possesses a hitherto unrecognized meaning,
etc. This is methodologically unsound reasoning, which evinces
little real interest in ascertaining the most probable explanation of
linguistic phenomena. Even if Frank’s alternative hypotheses were
individually plausible, it would be illogical to exchange a coherent
hypothesis for a haphazard assemblage of hypotheses, especially
when the former hypothesis is capable of explaining significantly
more data than all of the others combined.
In sum, Frank’s objections provide no rational basis for doubting
Cronan’s chronological hypothesis. It remains most reasonable to
conclude that the fourteen aforementioned simplexes are restricted
to Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, Exodus, Maxims I, and Widsið
because these poems preserve an archaic lexical stratum lost before
the composition of later poetry and prose. The majority of the
simplexes—suhtriga, gombe, fær, dyhtig, bresne, umbor, þengel, and
missere—are probably restricted because they ceased to be used in
the spoken language and in poetic discourse at a relatively early
date. The presence of synonymous words in texts composed
throughout the Anglo-Saxon period makes obsolescence the
most logical explanation for the restriction of these simplexes to
poems judged to be archaic on the basis of independent metrical
criteria. The other restricted simplexes Cronan discussed – freme,
eodor, heoru, wlenco, lufen, and wǣfre—are not as straightforward
in their dating implications, for reasons too complex to explore
29
See, for example, Fulk 1992; Fulk 2007b; Lapidge 2000; Doane 2013: 37–41;
Neidorf 2013b.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
22
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
here.30 For example, eodor, heoru, and wlenco remained in use, but
they underwent semantic shifts, and are found possessing their
original (or poetic) meanings only in the corpus of archaic poetry.
Obsolescence applies in these cases not to the words themselves,
but to the meanings they possessed. These semantic archaisms
reflect the variety of linguistic indications of chronological priority
to be found in the earliest English poems.
2 The archaic lexical stratum
Cronan’s study has demonstrated that lexical evidence corroborates
the chronological conclusions independently drawn in metrical
dating studies. Metrical criteria such as parasiting, contraction,
and Kaluza’s law provide a set of independent reasons for regarding
Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, and Exodus as part of a corpus of
archaic poetry composed early in the Anglo-Saxon period. The
distribution of verses requiring archaic phonology for scansion
adumbrates a relative chronology of Old English poetry wherein
Beowulf and the Old Testament poems were composed prior to the
Cynewulfian poems, which were composed prior to the Alfredian
poems, which were composed prior to the poems datable to the
tenth and eleventh centuries. If Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, and
Exodus were genuinely composed prior to the majority of extant Old
English texts, we might expect them to contain lexical indications
of their chronological priority. That they do indeed contain such
indications is powerful corroboration of the metrical dating criteria.
At present, the hypothesis that the corpus of archaic poetry
preserves an archaic lexical stratum lost before the composition
of later poetry and prose accommodates fourteen simplexes. The
purpose of the remainder of this article is to examine the vocabulary
of the earliest English poems and determine how many other
restricted words are complementarily explained under the foregoing
hypothesis. Does the archaic lexical stratum consist exclusively of
30
For the discussion of these words, see Cronan 2004: 28–33, 42–49.
23
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Leonard Neidorf
the fourteen words identified by Cronan? If a hypothesis formulated
to explain one set of data were found to explain incidentally an array
of other data, the probability that it is correct would be significantly
strengthened. The present study focuses therefore on words that
fell outside of the purview of Cronan’s study, which sought to
identify restricted poetic simplexes in order to establish a lexical
connection between a set of poems. Because of this aim, Cronan
necessarily excluded hapax legomena, compounds, and words that
are attested in only one poem. Such exclusion was logical, since
the interpretation of the restriction of these words involves a set
of considerations that would not apply to restricted simplexes. For
words attested in only one poem, the possibility that these words
reflect the innovative tendencies of an idiosyncratic author is very
real, whereas that possibility need not be entertained for words
(such as umbor, gombe, etc.) attested in at least two poems.
The central question governing the interpretation of the ten
restricted words to be discussed below is whether obsolescence
or innovation is the more probable cause for the word’s restricted
attestation. To be sure, the restricted attestation of a given word is
not inherently significant. Teosol (“die”) is restricted to Maxims I
and glossaries, but it would be foolish to advance a chronological
explanation for the word’s restriction, since the genuine cause for
the restriction is plain enough: dice rarely appear in extant Old
English texts.31 To regard a rare word as an indication of relatively
early or late composition, a clear argument for obsolescence or
innovation must be mounted. A fine example of an argument for
lexical innovation can be found in Franz Dietrich’s study of hycgan
and hopian, in which he contended that the use of the verb hopian
in Judith is a sign of the poem’s late composition.32 Elsewhere in the
poetic corpus, hopian is found exclusively in the Meters of Boethius,
a work securely dated to the later Anglo-Saxon period. In earlier
31
Max I 183; ErfGl 1 998; CorpGl 2 18.84; EpGl 865.
32
See Dietrich 1853; cf. Amos 1980: 148–149.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
24
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
Old English poetry and in other corpora of early Germanic poetry,
the synonymous hycgan is preferred and hopian seems to have been
either unknown to or consciously avoided by traditional poets. The
restricted attestation of hopian suggests that its presence in Judith
reflects a late innovation licensed by change in the poetic tradition.
This interpretation of the data finds support in the metrical criteria,
such as parasiting and contraction, which independently establish
the probability that Judith is a relatively late poem.
Unless it is accompanied by a detailed argument for obsolescence
or innovation, the observation that a word is restricted to one
or two texts is meaningless and bound to generate erroneous
conclusions. For example, Frank has observed that there are certain
lexical affinities linking Beowulf, Alexander’s Letter to Aristotle, and
Blickling Homily 16 (2008: 11–13).33 She regards the restriction of
nicor (“sea-monster”) to these three texts as a significant lexical
connection between them (2008: 12).34 Because Frank presumes
that the prose texts are tenth-century compositions, she sees this
lexical connection as evidence favoring a later dating of Beowulf. Yet
in the case of nicor, no argument for innovation or obsolescence is
made, nor could one reasonably be made: it cannot be imagined
that nicor supplanted or was supplanted by another word, since
references to sea-monsters are rare and no plausible synonym for
nicor exists. But if the lexical connection between Beowulf, Alexander,
and Blickling 16 genuinely demanded a chronological explanation,
it would be the opposite of what Frank proposed. The heavily
Mercian language of Alexander and Blickling 16 differs markedly
from prose texts known to have been composed during the tenth
33
Her evidence derives from Orchard 2003: 25–39, but it should be noted that
Orchard attached no chronological significance to these lexical affinities.
34
Nicor, in the sense of ‘sea-monster,’ is in fact the only lexeme restricted to
these three texts. The other lexical affinities between them pertain merely to the
collocation of words, such as fen ond fæsten, whose restriction cannot be imagined
to establish a meaningful chronological connection.
25
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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century, which are uniformly composed in the West Saxon literary
language, regardless of locale (see Fulk 2012). There are no reasons
for presuming Alexander and Blickling 16 to be late compositions,
but there are strong reasons for thinking that their composition
antedated the tenth century.35 If the restriction of nicor to these
three texts means anything, it would be that Mercians feared seamonsters most intensely during the eighth and ninth centuries; but
the restriction is more likely due to the rarity of sea-monsters than
to chronological proximity.
Cronan’s analysis of suhtriga furnishes a sound model for the
obsolescence argument. At one end, the presence of suhtriga in
seventh-century glosses establishes that this word had a place in
the English language during the prehistoric period. Conversely, the
absence of suhtriga from prose of all periods suggests that this word
fell out of use before the ninth century. The regular deployment
in extant texts of synonymous words, such as nefa and brōðorsunu,
indicates that later authors had ample opportunities to use suhtriga.
Obsolescence consequently emerges as the most logical explanation
for the restriction of suhtriga to Genesis A, archaic glosses, and
a fossilized compound in Beowulf and Widsið. Furthermore, the
higher the frequency of the synonyms’ attestation, the higher the
probability of obsolescence becomes. If seventy different authors
needed a word for “brother’s son” and consistently chose nefa
or brōðorsunu rather than suhtriga, the probability that suhtriga
was unknown to them is considerable. To propose that suhtriga
persisted into the later Anglo-Saxon period, one would have to
credit an improbable coincidence: that every time suhtriga could
have been used, authors chose instead to use nefa or brōðorsunu,
and hundreds of independent decisions accidentally resulted in a
35
Reasons for dating Alexander prior to the tenth century are given in Bately
1988: 133, n. 121. The dating of anonymous, Mercian prose is explored most fully
in Fulk 2010.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
26
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
perfect distribution. While it is possible that suhtriga remained in
the language, probability is on the side of early obsolescence.
The first of the ten restricted words presented here for
consideration is wōcor (“progeny, increase”), which occurs exclusively
in Genesis A. The restriction of this word to a single poem naturally
raises the question of obsolescence versus innovation. Is the word
restricted to an early poem because it became obsolete or to a late
poem because the poet invented it? Several considerations point
decisively toward obsolescence. One is that the poet used wōcor four
times: this suggests that the word was readily comprehensible and
was not spontaneously generated.36 More importantly, the existence
of exact cognates in several Germanic languages confirms that
wōcor is a word of common Germanic inheritance, which must have
been present in the lexicon of prehistoric Old English. The absence
of wōcor in later poetry and prose is significant, since these texts
contain a wide variety of synonymous words, such as cnōsl, gecynd,
sǣd, tēam, tūdor, and wæstm.37 Later authors had ample opportunity
to use wōcor, yet the only author to use this word was the Genesis
A poet, who did so four times. Assessing this distribution, Robert
J. Menner observed: “Surely the most natural explanation is that
wōcor, paralleled as it is in Gothic wōkrs, OFris. wōker, and OHG
wuohhar, is an old word used by an early poet, a word that appears
nowhere else in Old English because it had become obsolete” (1952:
288). The restriction of wōcor to Genesis A is readily explained under
the hypothesis that this poem preserves words belonging to an
archaic lexical stratum.
Similar to wōcor is the hapax legomenon rēofan (“break”), which
occurs only in Exodus and only in its past participial form, in the
verse randbyrig wǣron rofene, “ramparts were broken” (464). The
36
GenA 1312, 1342, 1409, 1490.
37
Consultation of the Thesaurus of Old English (Roberts & Kay 1995) informs
judgments concerning synonyms throughout this study. Consultation of
Holthausen 1934 and Bammesberger 1979 informs comments about Germanic
cognates.
27
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Leonard Neidorf
existence of an Old Icelandic cognate rjúfa and the common use of
the related verb berēofan (“deprive”) in Old English poetry indicate
that rēofan is an ancient Germanic word, not an innovation of the
Exodus poet. It is noteworthy that berēofan, like rēofan, is also
attested exclusively in its past participial form (berofen) in formulaic
verses such as golde (since, gǣste) berofen.38 This significant restriction
led Edward B. Irving, Jr. to posit: “It seems probable that both
rēofan and berēofan fell out of use early except in the one special
formula” (1959: 8). The attestation of many synonyms for rēofan,
including brecan, rendan, slītan, and teran, which are used hundreds
of times in later texts, demonstrates that later authors could easily
have used this word if it were available to them. Early obsolescence
for rēofan is thus exceedingly probable, and one important cause
for this might have been the widespread use of the weak verb (a-,
be-) rēafian (plunder). The phonological similarity between these
two verbs with similar meanings could have accelerated the process
of obsolescence.39 Regardless of the cause, the lifespan of rēofan
plainly did not extend into the later Anglo-Saxon period. Rēofan is
attested only in Exodus because Exodus is one of a handful of poems
that preserves archaic vocabulary lost at an early date.
The distribution of ōretta (“warrior”) in the poetic corpus
suggests that this word became obsolete relatively early, though
perhaps not as early as wōcor and rēofan. Ōretta is attested twice
in Beowulf, four times in Guthlac A, and two times in Andreas.40
Guthlac A is not one of the poems discussed by Cronan, but there
are strong reasons for including it in the corpus of archaic poetry:
the narrator claims that Guthlac’s death (in 714) was a recent event
and the poem’s archaic metrical features corroborate this claim (see
Fulk 1992: 399–400). Metrical criteria locate the composition of
Andreas, on the other hand, in the Cynewulfian period—that is,
38
See DOE Corpus search: “berofen.”
39
This possibility is recommended in Irving 1959: 8.
40
Beo 1532, 2538; GuthA 176, 344, 401, 569; And 879, 983.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
28
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
later than the archaic poems but prior to the reign of Alfred. To
judge from the restriction of the Old High German cognate urhētto
to the Hildebrandslied, ōretta must have been an ancient word of
Germanic poetic tradition, long obsolete in the colloquial language
and on its way toward obsolescence in the poetry as well (see Green
1998: 73–74). Because ōretta possesses dozens of synonyms, which
appear in virtually every Old English poem, it is probable that
obsolescence is the cause of its restriction to two archaic poems and
one Cynewulfian poem. The appearance of ōretta in Andreas might
even be a consequence of the long-hypothesized influence that
Beowulf exerted on Andreas (see Riedinger 1993). Ōretta therefore
appears to have fallen out of poetic discourse during the ninth
century, if not before.
The same explanation can be posited for the restriction of friclan
(“desire”), which is attested only in Beowulf, Genesis A, and Fates of
the Apostles.41 Because Fates is one of the signed works of Cynewulf,
the distribution of friclan mirrors that of ōretta: it is restricted to
two archaic poems plus one Cynewulfian poem. The presence of
friclan in three poems confirms that it cannot be an innovation, but
must have been a part of the inherited poetic vocabulary. Because
synonymous verbs—giernan, lystan, willian, wilnian—occur
hundreds of times in later poetry and prose, obsolescence appears
to be the probable cause for the restriction of friclan to three preAlfredian poems. Like ōretta, friclan was probably a poetic word
that fell out of use during the ninth century.
The list of recognized archaisms in the language of Beowulf is
now extensive, yet several obsolete words might merit a place on
the list, including hōs (troop), one of the poem’s hapax legomena.42
Hōs is securely attested only in Beowulf, though it might also
41
Beo 2554; GenA 1841; Fates 107. The restriction of friclan is also noted in Menner
1952: 286–287. See DOE s.v. friclan.
42
Archaic linguistic features in Beowulf are reviewed in Fulk 2007a; Fulk et al.
2008: clviii–ix, clxv–vii; and Fulk 2014.
29
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appear on the Franks Casket, depending on how the runes are
construed.43 Attestation on the Franks Casket would ensure the
word’s presence in the lexicon of the earliest Old English, but the
antiquity of hōs is nevertheless confirmed by the existence of hansa,
a Gothic and Old High German cognate. Wulfila’s use of hansa as
the equivalent of σπεῖρα and πλῆθος (Lat. cohors and multitudo)
suggests that hōs possessed an exceptionally large number of words
with comparable meanings in Old English, including cist, corþer,
gedryht, gefērscipe, flocc, hēap, menigu, gemong, weorod, and teoh.44
The considerable frequency with which these synonyms appear
in texts throughout the Anglo-Saxon period renders it probable
that the restriction of hōs to Beowulf is a consequence of early
obsolescence. One possible cause for this word’s demise might be
discernible in the context of its appearance in Beowulf. Hōs is used
in reference to Wealhþeo’s female retinue, her mægþa hōs, “troop
of ladies” (924). This passage might hint at a process of semantic
pejoration, which domesticated an otherwise standard word for a
troop or a host. Whatever the cause for its demise, hōs belongs to
the archaic lexical stratum preserved only in the earliest English
poetry. The nasal consonant in Middle English hanse indicates
that it does not derive from hōs, but rather reflects the borrowing
of one of its continental cognates.45
Fengel (“ruler”), like hōs, is another word that would have been
useful to most Old English poets, yet it is attested only in Beowulf.
The absence of exact Germanic cognates creates the possibility
that this word is restricted because it is a neologism, but several
considerations tell against that possibility. One is that fengel is used
four times in Beowulf, which suggests that it was not spontaneously
generated. Another is that this word appears to have been embedded
43
Beo 924; RuneAuzon 5? For further discussion, see Bammesberger 1979: 83–84.
44
On the Gothic cognate, see Feist 1939: s.v. hansa.
45
See MED s.v. hanse, where the word is said to be a borrowing from Old French
hanse, which must be of Germanic (presumably Frankish) origin.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
30
Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
in the formula snottra fengel (“wise ruler”), used twice in reference
to Hrothgar, as is the similar wīsa fengel.46 The repeated association
of fengel with adjectives denoting wisdom indicates that the word
had acquired certain connotations in poetic tradition. Obsolescence
is therefore the more probable cause for the restriction of fengel
to Beowulf. One word to consider alongside fengel is the hapax
legomenon strengel “ruler” (3115) which is also restricted to Beowulf
despite its obvious utility. Because strengel occurs only once in
Beowulf and has no exact cognates, the case for its obsolescence is
weaker. Yet in both fengel and strengel, the root vowel has undergone
front mutation, a process that Luick dates to first half of the sixth
century (1964: §291). While not outside the realm of possibility, it
is improbable that a neologism should exhibit conformity to such
an ancient sound change. Fengel and strengel appear to be inherited
poeticisms that are restricted to Beowulf because they were lost
from the poetic vocabulary at a relatively early date.
Gædeling (“kinsman, companion”) is not unique to Beowulf, but
its distribution suggests that it too belongs to the archaic lexical
stratum preserved in the earliest English poetry. In the corpus of
recorded Old English, gædeling is restricted to Beowulf, Daniel,
and the eighth-century Corpus Glossary, where it is used to gloss
fratuelis (“nephew”) and patruelis (“cousin”).47 The existence of an
array of cognates, such as Gothic gadiliggs (“cousin”), confirms that
gædeling was an ancient Germanic kinship term. The reason for the
restriction of gædeling to three archaic contexts, however, is that it
did not remain a straightforward kinship term in English: gædeling
underwent semantic pejoration, as the regular use of the word in
Middle English to mean “vagabond” indicates.48 Gædeling must
have lost the meaning “kinsman” as the meaning “companion”
46
Snottra fengel: Beo 1475, 2156; wīsa fengel: Beo 1400; hringa fengel: Beo 2345. See
DOE s.v. fengel.
47
Beo 2617, 2949; Dan 420; CorpGl 2 6.318, 14.104. See DOE s.v. gædeling.
48
See MED s.v. gadeling, sense ⒝; see also OED s.v. gadling, senses 2 and 3.
31
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Leonard Neidorf
began to spread, and it is from the latter that the sense “vagabond,
rascal, fellow” must have developed. To judge from the frequency
with which kinship terms appear in Old English, gædeling probably
stopped being a straightforward term for “kinsman” rather early.
The standard use of the mǣg and gesibb might have rendered the
more ambiguous gædeling a superfluous term for consanguinity. If
the process of pejoration revealed in Middle English began to take
place much earlier, that would explain why gædeling is not used in
later Old English poetry and prose, but is found only in Beowulf,
Daniel, and the Corpus Glossary.
Another word in Beowulf probably indicative of chronological
priority is helrūne “demon” (163). Since this word is a compound,
the possibility of poetic innovation looms large, but there are
clear signs that the word is not a neologism coined by the Beowulf
poet. One unambiguous sign of the antiquity of helrūne is the
existence of the Gothic cognate haljarunae, which is recorded in
Jordanes’s Getica.49 Outside of Beowulf, helrūne is attested in five
Aldhelmian glosses, all of which were generated during the eighth
century. Helrune is consistently used to gloss phitonissa (“witch”)
and divinatrix (“prophetess”), and in two of the glosses in which
it appears, wicca (“witch”) is listed as a synonym beside helrūne.50
The semantic parity of these two words—supported not only
by the glosses, but also by the Getica, where the haljarunae are
witches—lends chronological significance to the fact that helrūne
is preserved only in Beowulf and in archaic glosses. The glossarial
evidence suggests that helrūne and wicca were standard, competing
terms for “witch” during the eighth century. Helrūne evidently
49
See Wiersma 1961: 77–83; Chadwick 1959: 174–175; on the form haljarunae, see
Fulk et al. 2008: 126.
50
AldV 7.1 106; AldV 9 107; AldV 10 60; AldV 1 1902 (helhrūnan, wiccan); AldV
13.1 1926 (helhrūnan, wiccan). On the dating of these glosses, see Chadwick 1959:
175. She writes: “the ultimate relationship of the majority of them to glosses
dating from not later than the eighth century on the works of Aldhelm is beyond
doubt.”
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
suffered an early death, while wicca flourished and went on to
be attested twenty-eight times in the corpus of Old English.51
Wiccan are common in the writings of Ælfric and Wulfstan, for
example, where they are found alongside wælcyrian (“valkyries”)
and other demonic forces. The eighth-century circulation and
apparent expiration of helrūne is one additional sign, minor but
not negligible, that the earliest English poems preserve an array of
obsolete words indicative of their chronological priority.
Widsið merited a place in Cronan’s corpus of archaic poetry
because it is one of the three poems in which suhtriga appears (in
the dvandva suhtorfædren). Widsið is typically omitted from metrical
dating studies on account of its brevity, yet it has traditionally
been considered one of the oldest poems in English, and there are
strong reasons for regarding it as such (see Neidorf 2013c). Closer
examination of the vocabulary of Widsið reveals that it contains two
other items that belong to the archaic lexical stratum preserved
in the earliest poetry. Rōmwealh (“Roman”), spelt with archaic
Rūm for Rōm, is attested solely in Widsið, a gloss, and possibly
the Franks Casket.52 Early obsolescence is the probable cause for
the restriction of this ethnonym, since the corpus of recorded Old
English contains hundreds of references to Romans. In texts from
the ninth and tenth centuries, these Romans are regularly labeled
Rōmāne or Rōmware—sometimes Eotolware or Lǣdenware—but
are never labeled Rōmwēalas. Because of the considerable frequency
51
See DOE Corpus search: “wicca.”
52
Wid 69; DurRitGlAbbrev C2 189.7a; RuneAuzon 3. The names Romulus and
Remus are rendered Romwalus and Reumwalus on the Franks Casket; it is possible
that these spellings contain a punning or folk-etymological reference to Rōmwealh,
but the similarity could be accidental. The gloss reht Rōmwāla (for ius quiritum)
occurs in the tenth-century gloss on the Durham Ritual, but the vocabulary of
this gloss probably derives from an archaic source; see Ross 1970. Elliott and Ross
1972 posit that Aldred relied elsewhere on archaic vernacular sources, including
Bede’s translation of the Gospel of St. John. On the archaic spelling of Rūm for
Rōm, see Fulk and Cain 2013: 216.
33
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with which these synonyms are attested, the restriction of Rōmwealh
is a probable sign that this word fell out of use.
Of greater significance than Rōmwealh, however, is the semantic
archaism evident in the simplex wealh, which in Widsið possesses
the specific meaning “Roman.” The poet affirms that Caesar wields
the Wāla rīce (78), in other words, the Roman Empire. This usage
is striking, since the other reflexes of Proto-Germanic *walhaz
indicate that wealh must have been a standard term for “Roman”
in prehistoric Old English. In Old High German, for example,
the cognate uualha is regularly used to gloss Romani, presumably
because the continental Germanic peoples regarded the Romans as
their principal foreigners (see Weisgerber 1953: 178–188). After the
migration to Britain, the new environment for the English language
led wealh to be used differently: the word underwent a semantic
shift and came primarily to mean “Celt” or “slave.”53 As early as the
laws of Ine, issued in 694, wealh can be seen to possess precisely
these meanings.54 Wealh must have become an unacceptable term
for “Roman” at an early date, since references to Romans in Old
English literature are manifold, yet they are labeled wēalas only in
Widsið. Obviously, authors in the ninth and tenth centuries could
not refer to Romans as wēalas, since this would imply a Celtic or
servile quality. The composition of Widsið must have antedated the
completion of a semantic shift already discernible at the end of the
seventh century. The obsolete meaning of wealh in Widsið lends
powerful support to the hypothesis that the earliest English poems
contain lexical indications of their chronological priority.
3 Conclusion
Cronan identified fourteen poetic simplexes whose restricted
attestation establishes a lexical connection between Beowulf,
Genesis A, Daniel, Exodus, Maxims I, and Widsið. He explained the
53
See Pelteret 1995: 43; and Faull 1975.
54
See, inter alia, LawIne 23.3, 24.2, 33, 74.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
connection by hypothesizing that these six poems were composed
during the eighth century and therefore preserve words and
meanings that became obsolete before the composition of later
poetry and prose. The present study has demonstrated that this
hypothesis satisfactorily explains considerably more lexical data
than has been realized. The ability of a hypothesis to explain a wide
array of phenomena in addition to the phenomena it was originally
formulated to explain is a firm indication that it is correct. The
corpus of archaic poetry preserves an archaic lexical stratum,
which consists not only of Cronan’s fourteen simplexes, but also
of the ten additional words I have identified and analyzed above.
Viewed in isolation, an individual word generally cannot yield
decisive dating implications. Examined in the light of Cronan’s
hypothesis, however, an individual word can elevate its probability
on an incremental basis. The addition or subtraction of a few words
would not significantly change the picture. The preservation of
twenty-four lexical archaisms in poems independently judged to
be the earliest on the basis of metrical dating criteria invariably
validates the conclusions drawn in metrical studies. The relative
chronology appears to be correct: Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, and
Exodus (among others) contain numerous lexical indications that
they were composed before the Cynewulfian, Alfredian, and tenthcentury poems.
The lexical evidence, like the metrical evidence, pertains both
to relative and absolute dating. In relative terms, the preservation
of the archaic lexical stratum broadly locates the composition of
the corpus of archaic poetry in a period prior to the composition
of later poetry and prose. The earliest poems are the only texts
(besides glosses) to preserve words such as wōcor, rēofan, hōs, fengel,
helrūne, and Rōmwealh because their composition antedated the
obsolescence of these words. The distribution of ōretta and friclan
also bears on relative dating: each of these words is restricted to two
archaic poems and one Cynewulfian poem, which probably means
that they fell out of use during or shortly after the Cynewulfian
35
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period. The restricted simplexes of Cronan’s study likewise possess
relative dating implications. On the one hand, the preservation of
obsolete words such as missere, umbor, gombe, and þengel, suggests
that the corpus of archaic poetry was composed prior to their
obsolescence, which appears to have taken place by the time of
Cynewulf. On the other hand, the restriction of several simplexes
to two poems—e.g., the restriction of four simplexes to Beowulf
and Maxims I—suggests that the dates of composition for these
poems are relatively similar. Because of the quantity of poetry
and prose securely dated to the ninth century and later, the broad
implication inherent in the lexical and metrical evidence for relative
dating is that the corpus of archaic poetry—Beowulf, Genesis A,
Daniel, Exodus, Maxims I, and Widsith—was composed prior to
the ninth century.
There are now, however, many firm reasons for anchoring the
composition of the earliest English poems in a period extending
from the final decades of the seventh century to the middle of
the eighth century. The regular observation of etymological length
distinctions in Beowulf renders it probable that this poem was
composed before 725.55 The semantic archaism of wealh in Widsið
demands a date of composition close to the year 700. The restriction
of suhtriga anchors the composition of Beowulf, Widsið, and Genesis
A close in time to the period of the Theodorean glossators, who
compiled glosses at the end of the seventh century. The restriction
of gædeling likewise ties Beowulf and Daniel to the language of the
earliest glossaries. Rafael J. Pascual has offered further evidence for
this connection by demonstrating that the semantics of scucca and
þyrs in Beowulf deviates considerably from ninth- and tenth-century
usage, but conforms to the usage of eighth-century glossaries.56
Linguistic dating argumentation received powerful independent
55
See Fulk 1992: 381–392; Neidorf and Pascual forthcoming [2015].
56
See Pascual 2014; other semantic archaisms in Beowulf are discussed in
Robinson 1985: 55–57; Shippey 1993: 173–175; Fulk et al. 2008: clii.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
corroboration, moreover, when Michael Lapidge argued on the
basis of transliteration errors that Beowulf had been committed
to parchment prior to 750.57 A. N. Doane, borrowing Lapidge’s
methodology, has propounded a similar argument for an eighthcentury archetype of Genesis A (2013: 37–41).58 It cannot be an
accident that so many independent forms of evidence align in dating
these poems to a relatively narrow period of time, c. 675–750.
Because of the improbability that metrical, lexical, and textcritical indicators of chronology should each be in error, the
probabilistic value of the chronological hypotheses they support
approximates virtual certainty. Excessive precision is obviously
not warranted; the evidence cannot enable poems to be dated to
a particular year or decade. Yet the evidence is not so malleable as
to license the belief that every date of composition proposed for
Beowulf or Daniel is equally probable. The later that these poems
are dated, the higher the degree of improbability becomes. For
example, believing that the composition of Widsið or Genesis A
could have been contemporary with Alfredian or tenth-century
works generates several gross improbabilities: one being that the
Widsið poet used the word wealh in a manner incomprehensible
to an Alfredian audience; another being that the Genesis A poet
composed exponentially more verses exhibiting non-contraction
or non-parasiting than tenth-century poets.59 To believe that the
corpus of archaic poetry was composed in the tenth century, one
must believe that six poets shared access to various words that
were entirely unknown to their supposed contemporaries, but
were known to glossators during the seventh and eighth centuries.
57
See Lapidge 2000; his argument builds upon Gerritsen 1989 and Clemoes 1995:
32–34. It is validated in Clark 2009 and Neidorf 2013b.
58
Another reason for anchoring the composition of Genesis A close in time to
Beowulf is the peculiar usage of þā in these two poems; see Fulk 2007c.
59
For the disparity between Genesis A and late poetry in terms of non-contraction
and non-parasiting, see the tabulations in Fulk 1992: 83, 103.
37
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Statements about the inability of Old English poems to be dated
to a period narrower than three centuries—typically uttered with
regard to Beowulf—reflect deficient critical reasoning or inadequate
understanding of the philological evidence.
To conclude, it may be fruitful to take stock of the relative
chronology of Old English poetry as it presently stands. The
distribution of verses requiring archaic phonology for scansion,
which has been explored most thoroughly in Fulk’s A History of Old
English Meter, carves the poetic corpus into at least four distinct
periods: (1) the archaic period; (2) the Cynewulfian period; (3) the
Alfredian period; and (4) the late period. Poems belonging to the
archaic period exhibit the highest incidence and greatest variety
of metrical archaisms. Cynewulfian poetry—the signed works
of Cynewulf and metrically similar poems—is less conservative
than archaic poetry, but more conservative than poetry dating
to the reign of Alfred. Verses requiring archaic phonology for
scansion rarely occur in poetry composed during or after the
tenth century. In addition to containing dramatically fewer
metrical archaisms, the poems of late authorship exhibit various
innovations conditioned by linguistic developments, which are
not to be found in archaic or Cynewulfian poetry.60 The consistent
distribution of linguistic archaisms and innovations indicates
that the relative chronology must be broadly correct. Many
chronological variables independently confirm its predictions. For
example: the adherence to Kaluza’s law in Beowulf dates this poem
prior to 725, whereas the spelling of Cynewulf ’s name situates his
poetry after 750; the author of the metrically archaic Guthlac A
claims to have been a contemporary of St. Guthlac, whereas the
author of Guthlac B, a Cynewulfian poem, makes no such claim.61
This is not coincidental.
60
See Fulk 1992: 251–268; see also Bredehoft 2014.
61
See Fulk 1992: 351–368, 381–392, 399–402; see also Roberts 1971.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
The corpus of archaic poetry, encompassing works probably
composed at various dates between roughly 675 and 750, consists
chiefly of Beowulf, Genesis A, Daniel, Exodus, Guthlac A, and Christ
III.62 These poems are of sufficient length for metrical criteria,
buttressed by other evidence, to provide conclusive indications
of early composition. Lexical evidence attaches Widsið and
Maxims I to the archaic corpus. Evidence for the circulation and
cessation of Germanic legend in England renders it probable that
Waldere, Deor, Finnsburh, and Wulf and Eadwacer (like Beowulf
and Widsið) are relatively early poems.63 Metrical criteria suggest
that the Exeter Book Riddles are predominantly of eighth-century
origin (see Fulk 1992: 404–410). The early composition of at
least some of the Riddles is supported by the preservation of the
(linguistically) eighth-century Leiden Riddle in a ninth-century
manuscript (see Smith 1978: 19–37). Other poems belonging to the
corpus of archaic poetry on account of their preservation in archaic
contexts include Cædmon’s Hymn, Bede’s Death Song, A Proverb
from Winfrid’s Time, The Franks Casket, and The Dream of the
Rood (see Shippey 1993).
The corpus of Cynewulfian poetry consists first of the signed
works of Cynewulf: Juliana, Elene, Christ II, and Fates of the
Apostles. Metrical criteria locate the composition of Andreas,
Guthlac B, and possibly The Phoenix in the Cynewulfian period,
which encompasses works probably composed at various dates
between roughly 775 and 850 (see Fulk 1992: 348–368, 400–404).
It is reasonable to set a terminus for the Cynewulfian period at
around 850, since a considerable span of time is needed to account
for the drastic loss of metrical archaisms evident in the Alfredian
Meters of Boethius, composed in 897. Other poems composed
during or after the reign of King Alfred include the Preface and
62
On Christ III, see Fulk 1992: 397–399.
63
For a survey of this evidence, see Neidorf 2014; see also Chadwick 1912: 42–66;
Wormald 2006; Neidorf 2013a; and Shippey 2014.
39
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Epilogue to the Pastoral Care, Judith, Metrical Psalms of The Paris
Psalter, Judgment Day II, Battle of Brunanburh, Capture of the Five
Boroughs, Coronation of Edgar, Battle of Maldon, Death of Edward,
and Durham. Further philological research, building upon the
considerable foundations of known lexical and metrical evidence
for relative chronology, will surely identify additional poems as
relatively early or late.
The discipline of Old English studies, as it is presently conducted,
exhibits selective adherence to probability. In scholarship on Genesis
A and Judith, linguistic dating criteria are tacitly lent credence on
a regular basis. Genesis A is routinely regarded as a relatively early
poem, whereas Judith is ubiquitously presumed to be a relatively
late poem. The only decisive evidence for the dating of either
poem, however, is metrical and lexical evidence.64 It is surprising,
then, that so much literary scholarship on Beowulf should proceed
from the assumption that this poem cannot be relatively dated.
The uncertainty surrounding the dating of Beowulf should not be
imagined to reflect uncertainties in linguistic dating scholarship.
To the contrary, there is much firmer linguistic evidence for the
relative and absolute dating of Beowulf than there is for Genesis
A or Judith. If scholars regard Judith as a late poem on account
of its lexical innovations, its violation of Kaluza’s law, and its
dearth of verses requiring non-contraction or non-parasiting for
scansion (inter alia), then consistency would demand that Beowulf
be regarded as an early poem for the opposite reasons. There can
be no principled basis for the varying degrees of credence granted
to linguistic dating criteria in the scholarship on Genesis A, Judith,
and Beowulf.
The controversy over the dating of Beowulf is a product not
of ambiguous linguistic evidence, but of the tendency of literary
scholars to ignore linguistic evidence and frame the question
of dating in ambiguous terms not conducive to rational debate.
64
For Genesis A, see Doane 2013: 51–55; for Judith, see Griffith 1997: 44–47.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
When conceptualized as a purely non-linguistic issue, the dating
of Beowulf appears rather like an amateurish guessing game,
incapable of principled resolution, as in the following remark (Earl
1994: 17):
Does Beowulf reflect the conversion, express the Golden Age
of Bede, pay tribute to Offa or Wiglaf of Mercia, legitimize
the West Saxon royal line, conciliate the Danish settlement,
respond heroically to the Vikings, or praise the Anglo-Danish
dynasty of Cnut?
Framed in these nebulous terms, the question of dating naturally
elicits an agnostic response, since no decisive criteria can be
employed to render the competing hypotheses more or less
probable. Non-linguistic considerations can play an important role
in the dating of a text, but in the case of Beowulf, linguistic evidence
provides by far the firmest indications of date. One sign of the
unambiguous nature of this evidence is that there has never been a
controversy about the dating of Beowulf in linguistic scholarship.65
The notion that Beowulf could be a late poem has never appeared
credible to linguists; only literary scholars unwilling or unable to
comprehend linguistic argumentation have taken the hypothesis of
late composition seriously. As research into the relative chronology
of Old English poetry advances, disregard for linguistic evidence
will prove increasingly perilous. Treating early poems as if they
were late, or datable poems as if they were undatable, is a recipe for
impeding knowledge and generating improbable claims. Rationally
crediting the linguistic evidence for the relative chronology, on the
65
Fulk has observed that linguists uniformly regard Beowulf as a specimen of
archaic Old English in diachronic studies; see the references compiled in 2007a:
278, fn. 2. Fulk concludes from his survey of linguistic archaisms in Beowulf that
“the data presented here suggest that linguists are largely justified in ignoring the
debate among literary scholars about the poem’s date” (2007a: 278).
41
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other hand, is bound to yield important insights into the history of
Old English literature.66
Leonard Neidorf
Harvard University
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Lapidge, M. 2006: An Aspect of Old English Poetic Diction: The
Postpositioning of Prepositions. In J. Walmsley ed. Inside Old
English: Essays in Honour of Bruce Mitchell. Oxford, Blackwell:
153–180.
Luick, K. 1964 [1914–1940]. Historische Grammatik der englischen Sprache.
Stuttgart & Oxford, B. Tauchnitz & B. Blackwell.
MED = Middle English Dictionary: http://quod.lib.umich.edu/m./med.
Menner, R. J. 1952: The Date and Dialect of Genesis A 852–2936. Anglia
70: 285–294.
Neidorf, L. 2013a: Beowulf before Beowulf: Anglo-Saxon Anthroponymy
and Heroic Legend. Review of English Studies 64: 553–573.
Neidorf, L. 2013b: Scribal Errors of Proper Names in the Beowulf
Manuscript. Anglo-Saxon England 42: 249–269.
Neidorf, L. 2013c: The Dating of Widsið and the Study of Germanic
Antiquity. Neophilologus 97: 165–183.
Neidorf, L. 2014: Germanic Legend, Scribal Errors, and Cultural
Change. In L. Neidorf ed. The Dating of Beowulf: A Reassessment.
Cambridge, D. S. Brewer: 37–57.
Neidorf, L. & R. J. Pascual forthcoming [2015]: The Language of Beowulf
and the Conditioning of Kaluza’s Law. Neophilologus.
OED = Oxford English Dictionary: http://www.oed.com.
Orchard, A. 2003: A Critical Companion to Beowulf. Cambridge: D. S.
Brewer.
Orchard, A. 2007: Intoxication, Fornication, and Multiplication: the
Burgeoning Text of Genesis A. In A. Minnis & J. Roberts eds.
Text, Image, Interpretation: Studies in Anglo-Saxon Literature and
its Insular Context in Honour of Éamonn Ó Carragáin. Turnhout,
Brepols: 333–354.
Pascual, R. J. 2014: Material Monsters and Semantic Shifts. In L. Neidorf
ed. The Dating of Beowulf: A Reassessment. Cambridge, D. S.
Brewer: 202–218.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Lexical evidence for the relative chronology OE poetry
Pelteret, D. A. E. 1995: Slavery in Early Mediaeval England: from the Reign
of Alfred until the Twelfth Century. Woodbridge: Boydell.
Pope, J. C. 1998: Eduard Sievers (1850–1932). In H. Damico ed. Medieval
Scholarship: Biographical Studies on the Formation of a Discipline.
Vol. 2: Literature and Philology. New York, Garland Publishing:
177–200.
Riedinger, A. 1993: The Formulaic Relationship Between Beowulf and
Andreas. In H. Damico & J. Leyerle eds. Heroic Poetry in the AngloSaxon Period: Studies in Honor of Jess B. Bessinger, Jr. Kalamazoo,
Medieval Institute: 283–312.
Roberts, J. 1971: A Metrical Examination of the Poems Guthlac A and
Guthlac B. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy C 71: 91–137.
Roberts, J. & C. Kay 1995: A Thesaurus of Old English. 2 vols. London,
King’s College London, Centre for Late Antique and Medieval
Studies.
Robinson, F. C. 1985: Beowulf and the Appositive Style. Knoxville,
University of Tennessee Press.
Ross, A. S. C. 1970: Conservatism in the Anglo-Saxon Gloss to the
Durham Ritual. Notes and Queries 17: 363–366.
Russom, G. 2002: Dating Criteria for Old English Poems. In D. Minkova
& R. Stockwell eds. Studies in the History of the English Language:
A Millennial Perspective. Berlin, Mouton de Gruyter: 245–266.
Shippey, T. A. 1993: Old English Poetry: the Prospects for Literary
History. In A. León Sendra ed. Proceedings of the Second
International Conference of SELIM (Spanish Society for English
Medieval Language and Literature). Córdoba: SELIM. 164–179.
Shippey, T. A. 2005: The Merov(ich)ingian Again: damnatio memoriae
and the usus scholarum. In K. O’Brien O’Keeffe & A. Orchard eds.
Latin Learning and English Lore: Studies in Anglo-Saxon Literature
for Michael Lapidge, vol 1. Toronto, University of Toronto Press:
389–406.
47
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Shippey, T. A. 2014: Names in Beowulf and Anglo-Saxon England. In L.
Neidorf ed. The Dating of Beowulf: A Reassessment. Cambridge, D.
S. Brewer: 58–78.
Smith, A. H. ed. 1978: Three Northumbrian Poems: Cædmon’s Hymn,
Bede’s Death Song, and the Leiden Riddle. Revised by M. J. Swanton.
Exeter, University of Exeter Press.
Stanley, E. G. 1969: Old English ‘-calla’, ‘ceallian.’ In D. A. Pearsall &
R.A. Waldron eds. Medieval Literature and Civilization: Studies in
Memory of G. N. Garmonsway. London, Athlone Press: 94–99.
Townend, M. 2000: Pre-Cnut Praise Poetry in Viking Age England.
Review of English Studies 51: 349–370.
Townend, M. 2002: Language and History in Viking Age England: Linguistic
Relations between Speakers of Old English and Old Norse. Turnhout,
Brepols.
Weisgerber, L. 1953: Deutsch als Volksname: Ursprung und Bedeutung.
Stuttgart, W. Kohlhammer.
Wiersma, S. M. 1961: A Linguistic Analysis of Words Referring to Monsters in
Beowulf. (Ph.D. Dissertation). Madison, University of Wisconsin.
Wright, C. D. 1996: The Blood of Abel and the Branches of Sin: Genesis
A, Maxims I and Aldhelm’s Carmen de Virginitate. Anglo-Saxon
England 25: 7–19.
Wormald, C. P. 2006: Beowulf: the Redating Reassessed. In S. Baxter ed.
The Times of Bede: Studies in Early English Christian Society and its
Historian. Malden, Blackwell: 71–81, 98–105.
•
Received 06 Mar 2014; accepted 22 Apr 2014
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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THREE-POSITION VERSES AND THE METRICAL
PRACTICE OF THE BEOWULF POET
Abstract: This article assesses the authenticity of the three-position SS verse type in
Beowulf on the basis of its unambiguous incidence both in Beowulf and in a larger corpus
of Old English poetry. The first part of this essay examines the metrical configuration
of thirteen verses from Beowulf that have recently been identified as instances of the SS
pattern. In doing so, it demonstrates that nearly all of them furnish a standard four-position
metrical structure. The second part discusses the empirical obstacles to accepting the formal
legitimacy of the three-position SS pattern in Old English verse, thereby reaffirming the
validity of the stricture of traditional Sieversian metrics against verses consisting of less than
four metrical positions. Keywords: Old English Metre, Textual Criticism, Beowulf, Old
English Literature, Early Germanic Poetry.
Resumen: Este artículo analiza la autenticidad del verso de tres posiciones SS en Beowulf
en base a su incidencia inequívoca tanto en Beowulf como en un corpus más grande de
poesía inglesa antigua. La primera parte de este ensayo examina la configuración métrica de
trece versos de Beowulf que han sido identificados recientemente como ejemplos del patrón
métrico SS. Así demuestra que casi todos ellos tienen una estructura convencional de
cuatro posiciones métricas. La segunda parte discute los obstáculos empíricos que impiden
aceptar la legitimidad formal del patrón de tres posiciones SS en la poesía inglesa antigua,
reafirmando así la validez de la prohibición de la métrica tradicional sieversiana contra versos
de menos de cuatro posiciones métricas. Palabras clave: Métrica inglesa antigua, crítica
textual, Beowulf, literatura inglesa antigua, poesía germánica inicial.
robabilistic reasoning governs the study of the
metrical practice of the Beowulf poet. Considerations of
relative probability enable editors and metrists to identify
scribal corruptions, recover authorial readings, and understand
the metrical regularities that the poet meticulously imposed upon
his work.1 The role of probability in these matters can readily be
illustrated by the scholarly response to the words hrēas blāc, which
appear in line 15 on folio 188r of the Beowulf manuscript. At this point,
Beowulf is describing Ongentheow’s death, and the transmitted
text of the poem would have him state that the Swedish king hrēas
P
1
For in-depth discussions of the role of probabilism in Old English philology,
see Fulk 2003 and 1992: §§8–23; on the balancing of metrical probabilities in
textual criticism, see Fulk 1996.
ISSN: 1132–631X
Rafael J. Pascual, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 49–79
Rafael J. Pascual
blāc, “fell pale,” after Eofor’s blow. If the manuscript evidence were
taken at face value, hrēas blāc should constitute a verse by itself and
an apparent two-position verse pattern SS should then be regarded
as the genuine outcome of the poet’s metrical practice. Although
the sense, syntax, and alliteration exhibited in hrēas blāc are sound,
it is improbable that the Beowulf poet composed a verse of this
sort. In the surviving corpus of approximately 30,000 lines of
Old English poetry, verses unambiguously featuring the SS stress
contour are virtually non-existent. If Old English poets considered
the SS pattern an authentic verse type, we should expect to find
more evidence for the authenticity of this type than a few dubious
attestations. To regard hrēas blāc as an authentic verse generates
a gross improbability: it forces one to believe that the systematic
avoidance of a legitimate metrical pattern in so large a corpus of
poetry is entirely due to accident. The most probable explanation
for the apparent existence of a handful of verses exhibiting the SS
pattern is that these verses are the products of scribal corruption,
not authorial practice. Editors of Beowulf unanimously regard
hrēas blāc as a corrupt verse requiring emendation; metrists rightly
conclude that this verse does not reflect the metrical practice of the
Beowulf poet.
By the same token, verses exhibiting a rarely attested threeposition SS pattern have traditionally been considered unmetrical
and regarded as the consequences of scribal error. According to
the tenets of Sieversian formalism, the rationale behind the
unmetricality of the SS pattern is its failure to comply with the
most basic rule of Old English metre, the four-position principle
(Sievers 1885: 220–222, 270; 1893: §§8, 14.2).2 In the word-foot
theory, the SS pattern corresponds to a foot, and hence it
2
The four-position theory of Old English metre is laid out in Cable 1974: 84–
93. For some qualifications to Cable’s original analysis, see Cable 1991: 39. For a
concise summary of the four-position principle, see Stockwell & Minkova 1997:
67–69; Fulk 2002: 337–340; 2012a: 558; and Pascual forthcoming.
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
cannot stand as a verse by itself (Russom 1987: 13, 28–29).3 This
traditional stance has recently been questioned by Eric Weiskott
in his essay “Three-Position Verses in Beowulf ” (2013). He gathers
thirteen verses that purportedly feature the three-position SS
pattern from the poem and contends that they furnish sufficient
evidence for metrists to accept it as a genuine metrical type. Of
these thirteen verses, he focuses the body of his essay exclusively
on one of them, Beowulf 2150a lissa ġelong (a longstanding crux in
Old English metrical studies), and relegates the remaining twelve
to a list in a footnote without detailed commentary. Further, he
tries to overcome the difficulty posed by the nonconformity of the
SS pattern to the four-position principle by proposing an analogy
with the expanded type D verse (i.e., type D*). Since Sieversian
metrics accepts type D* verses, whose metrical structure apparently
fails to comply with the four-position principle, the inability of
the SS pattern to conform to that principle would not constitute
sufficient grounds for being considered unmetrical. Rather, he
maintains, although the poets would have perceived the SS
pattern as anomalous when it was first developed, it would have
been reinterpreted as a regular type over the course of the history
of Old English metre.
The present article subjects Weiskott’s case for the authenticity
of the three-position SS pattern in Beowulf to critical scrutiny.
The first part examines the metrical structure of the twelve verses
that supposedly feature the SS pattern, which Weiskott summarily
consigned to a list in a footnote. Close analysis demonstrates that
these verses either genuinely feature a four-position metrical
configuration or are corrupt manuscript readings. Consequently,
it becomes clear that Weiskott’s case for the authenticity of the
SS type is predicated exclusively on the evidence afforded by a
single verse, lissa ġelong—an untenable position, for reasons made
3
On the word-foot theory and the explanatory power it brings to Old English
metre, see Russom 1987 and 1998.
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Rafael J. Pascual
clear below. The second part assesses his comparison of the SS
pattern with type D* and the supposed reinterpretation to which
the catalectic SS type would have been subjected over the course
of Old English metrical history, along with other methodological
issues raised by Weiskott’s essay. The conclusion is that his
argumentation fails to make a convincing case for the authenticity
of the SS pattern, which, judging by its virtually non-existent
incidence in the surviving corpus of Old English poetry, must have
been considered unmetrical throughout the Anglo-Saxon period.
1 Manuscript evidence and metrical structure
1.1 Syntactically uncommon four-position verses
Due to their syntactic complexity, the two parallel gnomic verses
183b and 186b, Wā bið þǣm ðe sceal and wēl bið þǣm þe mōt,4 have
presented certain difficulties to metrists, who have sometimes
scanned them as instances of the three-position SS pattern.5
This scansion is at odds, however, with Hans Kuhn’s first metricosyntactic rule, the law of Germanic sentence particles (1933: 8),6 the
operation of which reveals that these two verses have a standard
four-position metrical configuration. The three-position analysis
must then be disallowed on that basis, since Beowulf faithfully
conforms to the regularities observed by Kuhn.7
4
“Wrong to one who must” and “well to one who is permitted.”
5
So, for example, Bliss (1967: §86), Momma (1989: 425), and Hutcheson (1995:
254). Sievers (1885: 267; 1893: §85, n. 10), Pope (1966: 371), and Getty (2002: 225),
on the contrary, would scan them as atypical four-position verses with a half-stress
on þǣm.
6
Summaries of Kuhn’s first law can be found in Campbell (1970: 94), Lucas
(1990: 294), Kendall (1991: 17–18), Hutcheson (1992: 129), Momma (1997: 56–64),
Orton (1999: 289 n. 11), Fulk (see Pope 2001: 136–138; 2012a: 558–559; 2012b: 389),
and Terasawa (2011: 95–96).
7
On the regular compliance of Beowulf with Kuhn’s first law, see for example
Lucas (1990: 294), Orton (1999: 289), and Fulk (2012b: 389–390; 2014).
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
Kuhn’s first law states that all the unstressed sentence particles of
a verse clause must be placed together in the first drop of that clause,
either directly before the first lift, or between the first lift and the
second;8 the direct implication is that a sentence particle not found in
that clausal position is stressed. For example, in Beowulf 2134b hē mē
mēde ġehēt,9 which constitutes a clause by itself, the sentence particles
hē and mē, two personal pronouns, should be unstressed because they
appear in the first drop of the clause immediately preceding the first
lift, the root syllable of the noun mēde. That the root syllable of mēde
is the first lift of the verse clause and that therefore hē and mē are
unstressed is confirmed by the participation of mēde in the alliterative
scheme of the line.10 The remaining sentence particle, the finite verb
-hēt, should then take stress, since it is found outside its prescribed
place in the clause besides hē and mē. This must indeed be the case,
since according to traditional Sieversian metrics no verse ends in
more than one unstressed syllable (see, for example, Pope 2001:
141; and Terasawa 2011: 35). Thus, the application of Kuhn’s first law
reveals that the stress contour of this verse is SS, corresponding
to a standard type B.
The metrical contour of hē mē mēde ġehēt is transparent because
that verse is syntactically simple. In Wā bið þǣm ðe sceal and wēl
bið þǣm þe mōt, on the contrary, there is a verse-internal clause
boundary, as is indicated by the presence of two verbs in each
of them (bið and sceal in 183b, and bið and mōt in 186b). In both
instances, the indirect object of the main clause, the dative
pronoun þǣm, is modified by a dependent relative clause. The
8
Sentence particles are semantically independent words that, unlike stress-words,
usually fail to receive rhythmic stress. Particles include finite verbs, personal and
demonstrative pronouns, demonstrative adverbs, and some conjunctions (see Pope
2001: 136–137; and Terasawa 2011: 27–28).
9
“He promised me reward.”
10
The on-verse is mǣrðo fremede. In Old English poetry, the first lift of the offverse must participate in the alliteration of the line, while the second must not.
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occurrence of a clause boundary within a verse is an infrequent
syntactic feature in Beowulf, which has obscured how Kuhn’s law
of sentence particles applies in these two verses.11 As a result of
this syntactic complexity, the stress contour of these two parallel
verses has not always been obvious to metrists. If the position
of the clause boundary within the verse is correctly established,
however, Kuhn’s first law can be seen to operate regularly in these
two verses, which leads to the recognition of their four-position
metrical configuration. The establishment of the clause boundary
can in turn be achieved by means of a comparison with, for
example, Beowulf 2600b–2601b sibb’ ǣfre ne mæġ / wiht onwendan
/ þām ðe wēl þenċeð.12
These three verses accommodate a sentence that also consists
of a main clause with its indirect object, þām, modified by a
dependent relative clause, ðe wēl þenċeð. One might well suppose
that the clause boundary falls between þām and the relative
particle ðe. Nevertheless, the metre and the alliteration of these
verses, in conjunction with Kuhn’s first law, show that it falls
between onwendan and þām, and that the Beowulf poet must have
regarded the pronoun þām as part of the relative clause by which it
is modified. The alliteration of l. 2061, which is on /w/, indicates
that wēl is the first lift of the off-verse, so that þām and ðe, which
immediately precede it, must be unstressed (like hē and mē in hē
mē mēde ġehēt). This means that þām must be part of the clauseinitial drop of the relative clause. If it were part of the main clause,
it would receive stress for being outside its prescribed position in
the first drop besides the unstressed syllables -fre and ne, thereby
spoiling both the metre of the verse and the alliteration of the
line. The lack of stress of þām thus indicates that it must have
become associated with the relative particle ðe, both of which are
11
According to Kendall, there are forty one instances of verse-internal clause
boundaries in Beowulf (1991: 89–90).
12
“Nothing can ever change ties of kinship for one who thinks rightly.”
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
treated by the Beowulf poet as an unstressed integral unit at the
onset of the relative clause.13
The treatment of the particles þām and þe as a clause-initial
unit in 2601b furnishes compelling evidence that the Beowulf poet
must have also regarded them as such in both Wā bið þǣm ðe sceal
and wēl bið þǣm þe mōt. If þǣm þe is a clause-initial unit, then
the immediately preceding word, bið, must be clause-final. The
verse-internal clause boundary between the main clause and its
dependent relative clause can then be established between bið and
þǣm, which allows us to observe how Kuhn’s first law operates.
In regular compliance with the law, the clause-initial unit þǣm ðe
must be unstressed, since it is placed in the first drop of the relative
clause, immediately before the first lift, which in both instances is
occupied by a verse-final finite verb that has been promoted to a
stressed position (sceal and mōt).14 The finite verb bið, being at the
end of the main clause, must then receive stress, since it fails to
adhere to Kuhn’s first law: it is not either directly before the first
lift (wā and wēl), or between the first lift and the second, since
there is no second lift besides bið itself. As we can see, then, the
workings of Kuhn’s first law suggest that the two gnomic verses
183b and 186b have the stress contour of a standard type E, SsS,
and that therefore they regularly comply with the four-position
rule of Old English metre.15 Given the demonstrable reality of
13
The same situation can be appreciated, for example, in Beowulf 1838b–1839b
feorcȳþðe bēoð / sēlran ġesōhte / þǣm þe him selfa dēah, where the alliteration of selfa
indicates that þǣm þe must be unstressed and hence clause-initial.
14
Kendall’s transformational rule states that in a clause-initial segment which
lacks stress-words (as in þǣm ðe sceal and þǣm þe mōt), sentence particles acquire
metrical stress from right to left in accordance with the stress and phrase rules
of Old English until the first valid metrical contour emerges (1991: 96; cf. Fulk’s
comment in Pope 2001: 138, n. 18).
15
This explanation is endorsed by the editors of Klaeber IV (Fulk, Bjork & Niles
2008: 129). Russom also scans these two verses as instances of the SsS pattern
(1987: 120).
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Kuhn’s law of Germanic sentence particles (Donoghue 1997), the
three-position scansion of 183b and 186b is untenable. These two
verses possess a four-position metrical configuration and cannot be
adduced as evidence for the existence of the SS pattern in Beowulf.
1.2 Four-position verses with an unresolved lift in the coda
Weiskott’s SS scansion of another three verses in Beowulf must
also be rejected. The verses in question are 845a nīða ofercumen,16
954a dǣdum ġefremed,17 and 2430b Hrēðel cyning.18 Metrists have
traditionally held that these atypical verses feature an unresolved
second lift,19 and that they are therefore type A verses that comply
with the four-position principle (see, for example, Pope 1966: 272;
Russom 1987: 46, 51 and 117; and Fulk 1992: §§207–209).20 The
three-position analysis of these verses requires us to assume that
their second short stressed syllable and its unstressed successor
undergo resolution. Although these three verses are exceptional
under any of the two interpretations, the three-position analysis
is demonstrably less probable for a number of reasons. Most
saliently, it demands credence in an improbable coincidence.
Verses with an unresolved lift in the coda can be found in other
poems as well.21 Some examples are tempel Gode (Exodus 391b);22
16
“Overcome by violence.”
17
“Performed with deeds.”
18
“King Hrethel.”
19
These verses are atypical because a short second lift is usually preceded by a
monosyllabic lift or half-lift, not a drop. See, for example, Pascual forthcoming.
20
Bliss scans 845a and 954a as instances of the SS pattern. Fulk has demonstrated,
however, that Bliss’s acceptance of three-position verses is misguided (see Fulk
1992: §210).
21
The coda of the verse comprises the last full lift and all subsequent syllables. The
linguistic material preceding the coda of a verse is its onset (Fulk 1992: 201, n. 60).
22
“Temple for God.”
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
on ġenimeð;23 Loth wæs āhreded;24 eorlum bedroren;25 Scēawa heofon26
(Genesis A 1209a, 2085b, 2099a, and 2191a); scride and færelt (Metres
of Boethius 28.11b);27 wildne fugol (Solomon and Saturn 315a),28
among several others.29
As we can appreciate, it is the second stressed syllable that is
systematically short, never the first. This regular distributional
pattern suggests that these verses have a four-position metrical
structure with an unresolved lift in the coda of the verse. If the
metrical configuration of all these verses were SS with a resolved
second lift, as the three-position analysis requires, it would be
remarkable that this verse type is never realized with resolution
occurring in the first lift. The three-position analysis of these
verses would thus compel one to believe that the absence of threeposition SS verses with a resolved first lift, like the hypothetical
*guma ġehēt or *guma mē ġehēt,30 is accidental. It seems far more
probable that the non-occurrence of verses like *guma ġehēt is
an indication of their unmetricality. And since the only possible
scansion for the non-occurring *guma ġehēt is SS,31 it follows
that SS is not a valid metrical analysis for attested verses like nīða
ofercumen. Thus, unless one is ready to give credence to extreme
23
“Away takes.”
24
“Loth was liberated.”
25
“Bereft of warriors.”
26
“Behold the sky.”
27
“Course and orbit.”
28
“Wild bird.”
29
Sievers lists twelve such verses (1885: 458). For a few more examples, see
Schabram 1960.
30
“A man promised;” “a man promised me.”
31
Verse-initial resolvable sequences must necessarily undergo resolution (see
Suzuki 1995: 26; Pascual forthcoming).
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coincidences, it is necessary to regard these verses as relatively
atypical instances of a regular type A metrical configuration with
a short second lift.
Another reason to credit the traditional four-position analysis for
verses like nīða ofercumen is that it receives independent support from
a well-known fact of all Indo-European metrical systems, namely
that they tend to demand more fixed structures toward the end of
the verse.32 A clear expression of this tendency can be appreciated,
for example, in the ability of non-verse-final drops to accommodate
a variable number of syllables, while only one unstressed syllable is
allowed to occupy a verse-final drop, as has been stated above.33 This
characteristic feature of Indo-European metres manifests itself even
more evidently in the application of Fulk’s law, according to which the
metrical value of disyllabic sequences with a short penultimate syllable
under tertiary stress is determined by their position within the verse.34
In the onset, they occupy a single metrical position; but if they are in
the coda,35 then each of their two syllables must constitute a single
metrical position on its own. Although an exhaustive explanation of
exceptional verses like nīða ofercumen falls beyond the scope of the
present essay, the preceding discussion should have sufficed to make
it clear that there are good metrical reasons to expect an unresolved
lift in the coda of the verse. Thus, the SS scansion is not tenable
for verses like nīða ofercumen, and hence they cannot be offered in
support of the authenticity of the SS verse pattern in Beowulf.
32
Foley refers to this phenomenon as “right justification” (1985: 12; see also Fulk
1992: §226).
33
See p. 53.
34
Fulk names his law “Rule of the Coda” (1992: §§221–245). Notice that although
“tertiary stress” is here retained as a useful concept, the application of Fulk’s law
demonstrates that ictus at the tertiary level is exclusively predicated on syllable
quantity (Fulk 1992: §268).
35
See fn. 21 above.
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
1.3 Miscellaneous four-position verses
Weiskott’s SS scansion for 881a ēam his nefan,36 1728a Hwīlum hē
on lufan,37 736a ðicgean ofer þā niht38 and 940b dǣd ġefremede39 must
likewise be rejected. In the first instance, 881a, it is probable that
the poet regarded ēam as a non-contracted disyllabic word with
the stress contour Ss, reflecting prehistoric Old English *ēa-am,
descended in turn from the Proto-Germanic compound *awahaim (Holthausen 1963: 84, s.v. éam).40 The stress pattern of 881a
would therefore be SsS, corresponding to a rhythmical type E
with resolution of its second lift. Indeed, the circumflex diacritic
above ēam printed in Klaeber IV indicates that its editors endorse this
scansion. Further, the traditional four-position interpretation for
this verse is predicated upon compelling philological evidence that
the three-position analysis neglects. In the prehistoric Old English
form *ēa-am, a hiatus separates a diphthong ending in a back vowel,
ēa-, from an unstressed vowel, -a. Hiatuses of this kind underwent
contraction at some point between the late seventh and the early
eighth century (Campbell 1964: §235.2; Hogg 2011: §5.131). Since the
composition of Beowulf can be reliably dated to the period 685–725,41
36
“Uncle to his nephew.”
37
“Sometimes he in delight.”
38
“Consume beyond that night.”
39
“Deed accomplished.”
40
See also Fulk, Bjork, and Niles 2008: 330, n. 3.
41
Beowulf is the only poem in the Old English corpus with regular and extensive
adherence to both parts of Kaluza’s law. This means that the poet was aware of
the distinction between etymologically short and long desinences that became
indistinct ca. 725 in Mercia and ca. 825 in Northumbria. Because the language of
Beowulf is less conservative than that of the Épinal-Erfurt glossary (ca. 685) and
because dialectal indications point to Mercian composition, Fulk has concluded
that Beowulf was most likely composed between ca. 685 and ca. 725 (1992: §§406–
421; 2007a: 268; 2007b: 317–323; see also Clark 2014 and Neidorf & Pascual
forthcoming [2015]). The law originates in the observations of Max Kaluza (1896).
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it follows that the non-contracted form must still have been within
easy reach for the poet at the time he composed Beowulf. Therefore,
the four-position scansion for 881a not only is metrically regular, but
also preferable on a philological basis.
With respect to 1728a Hwīlum hē on lufan, the three-position
analysis is based on the assumption that the entire line features
a transverse alliterative scheme of the type AB : BA, which
would involve promotion of hwīlum to a stressed position.42 This
assumption is open to doubt, however, not only because transverse
alliteration is very infrequent in Old English poetry (Terasawa
2011: 18),43 but also because it would entail a breach of Kuhn’s first
law, an extremely uncommon situation in Beowulf. Since hwīlum
is a sentence particle that appears in the first drop of its clause,
in complete obedience to Kuhn’s first law, it must be unstressed.
Accordingly, this verse scans as an A3 type with its alliterating lift
occupied by the short stressed syllable lu-.44 Remarkably, even in
the improbable case that ēam scanned as a monosyllable and that
hwīlum bore a stress, verses 881a and 1728a would not unambiguously
feature the SS pattern, since the SS pattern with an unresolved
lift in the coda would still be a more probable explanation for
them, as has been argued in the previous section. Neither of these
two verses therefore carries any conviction as an authentic instance
of the SS pattern.
The stress pattern traditionally posited for Beowulf 736a ðicgean
ofer þā niht, is the four-position SSs, corresponding to a heavy
type A with primary stress on þā, secondary stress on niht, and
featuring double alliteration. The three-position scansion of this
verse is based on the premise that þā is unstressed. This premise,
42
The off-verse is lǣteð hworfan.
43
R. B. Le Page considers that this line features transverse alliteration (1959: 435),
but see the criticism raised by Terasawa (2011: 25).
44
Type A3 verses with a short lift are occasionally found in Beowulf and elsewhere
(Fulk, Bjork & Niles 2008: 330).
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
however, is not supported by the evidence. There is a similar verse
elsewhere in Old English poetry, Judith 306a þeġnas on ðā tīd,45
and in both instances the alliteration of the line is on /þ/.46 The
three-position interpretation thus neglects the fact that in these
two verses promotion of þā to a stressed position results not only
in a metrically regular verse, but also in an acceptable alliterative
scheme. Furthermore, the assignment of primary stress to þā and
secondary stress to niht in 736a is supported by the occurrence in
Beowulf and elsewhere of a significant number of parallel verses in
which niht takes secondary stress and is preceded by an alliterating
monosyllable (Hutcheson 1995: 159, n. 3). This can be transparently
appreciated in verses like Beowulf 517a seofonniht swuncon,47 Exodus
63a Hēht þā ymb twā niht or Andreas 185a Nū bið fore þrēo niht.48
Thus, in the absence of a substantial number of unambiguous
instances of the SS pattern, it is not justifiable to adduce Beowulf
736a as authentic evidence of that pattern.
With regard to 940b dǣd ġefremede, this verse as it stands in
the manuscript scans as a regular four-position type A verse with
resolution of the second lift. In order to make it conform to the
SS pattern, Weiskott assumes that the form ġefremede is a scribal
substitution of authorial ġefremed, which would in turn undergo
resolution. The emendation of ġefremede to ġefremed, which
has never been proposed by any editor in the history of Beowulf
textual criticism, has no rational basis and cannot be accepted. The
manuscript reading ġefremede is grammatically unquestionable: it is a
past participle declined as an accusative singular feminine adjective,
in perfect agreement with the noun it modifies, the feminine i-stem
45
“Warriors at that time.” Griffith scans it as a regular four-position verse with
alliteration on þā (1997: 141).
46
Beowulf 736b and Judith 306b read Þrȳðswȳð behēold and þearle ġelyste respectively.
47
Disyllabic seofon- is resolved and counts therefore as a single syllable.
48
See also Fulk 1992: §199 for further commentary on verses of this sort.
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dǣd, the direct object of its clause. The single reason adduced by
Weiskott in support of his emendation is that there is one verse in
the whole poem, 476a, in which the past participle of ġefremman
is uninflected: fǣrnīða ġefremed.49 If this line of reasoning were
accepted, we would be obliged to change, for example, Beowulf 216b
wudu bundenne to wudu bunden, since this is the only occurrence in
the whole poem in which the participle of bindan is inflected. But
we would then be altering a metrically regular verse to a verse with
the unmetrical SS configuration. Indeed, the poet’s choice of the
inflected form of the participle of bindan in this single instance is
most probably motivated by the demands of metre: since resolution
of verse-initial wudu is unavoidable, the uninflected form bunden
would make the verse fall short of a syllable (cf. Mitchell 1985: §36;
and Terasawa 2011: 80). A similar metrical rationale is most likely
behind the poet’s use of the inflected participle of ġefremman in
dǣd ġefremede: he inflected the participle in this instance precisely
to avoid the unmetrical SS pattern. Weiskott’s emendation of
dǣd ġefremede to dǣd ġefremed reflects an antiprobabilistic mode of
reasoning: it gratuitously corrupts an authorial four-position verse,
for no reason other than to increase the apparent evidence for the
authenticity of the SS contour.
1.4 Corrupt manuscript readings
The previous three sections have accounted for the four-position
metrical configuration of nine out of the thirteen instances that
Weiskott adduced as evidence for the SS pattern. The present
section considers the remaining four items, which are in actuality
corrupt manuscript readings. One of them is rǣhte ongēan, at the
beginning of line 7 on folio 149r (corresponding to l. 747b). Taken
49
The past participle ġefremed in 476a must depend upon the accusative singular
neuter pronoun hwæt in 474b, since fǣrnīða is genitive plural. The uninflected form
ġefremed is therefore the only grammatically correct possibility. Weiskott’s line of
reasoning, however, seems to be based on the false assumption that ġefremed ought
to be inflected.
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
at face value, it should constitute a verse featuring the threeposition SS stress contour. But this reading is suspect on textcritical grounds, since it is immediately preceded by an erasure of
five letters at the end of line 6 (Zupitza 1959: 36). Since the first
of the damaged letters is an h, Weiskott argues that the scribe
copied the word handa by eye-skip to 746a, and that he then erased
it intentionally to achieve the purportedly correct three-position
reading (2013: 483, n. 4). Several problems present themselves. First,
if rǣhte ongēan were an authentic verse by itself, the verbal form
rǣhte would lack an object (Robinson 1996: 56). Consequently, it
would have to be assumed that the noun phrase hiġeþīhtiġne rinċ is
used ἀπὸ κοινοῦ by the Beowulf poet as the grammatical object of
two distinct verbs, the preceding nam and the following rǣhte. This
interpretation must be rejected, since ἀπὸ κοινοῦ constructions are
not a genuine feature of Old English verse (Fulk 2003: 3–9). Second,
and even more important, the three-position analysis neglects the
well-known fact that the erasure preceding ræhte coincides with
an erasure at exactly the same place on the following leaf (Zupitza
1959: 37).50 This clearly suggests that it was something spilt on the
vellum that obscured the words preceding ræhte, not the deliberate
hand of the scribe. The reading ræhte ongean can then be reliably
considered defective. Indeed, this is the stance adopted by the
editors of Klaeber IV, who fill the five-letter gap in the manuscript
by adding hē him, two sentence particles that not only restore the
syntax and sense of the passage, but also make a standard fourposition type B verse.
Another two readings that Weiskott presented as authorial
SS verses in Beowulf are grētte þā (corresponding to 652a),51
and ġeġnum fōr (corresponding to 1404b).52 But surely these two
readings are corrupt, since trisyllabic verses of any kind are virtually
50
See also Pope (1966: 372), and Fulk (1992: §209).
51
“Addressed then.”
52
“Had gone forward.”
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non-existent in the Old English poetic corpus. The evidential force
of their absence is so compelling that the stricture against verses
with less than four syllables is regarded by practically all metrists
as “the most basic and universal of the metrical rules” (Amos 1980:
15),53 and even the most conservative editors of Old English poetry
emend trisyllabic verses on that single basis. Further, plausible
sources of scribal confusion for these two readings have been
readily identified. In regard to 652a, the source of error suggests
itself clearly after comparison with 2516a Ġegrētte þā: the similarity
between ge- and gre- likely led the scribe to overlook ge- as he
copied from his exemplar (Andrew 1948: 141). This is in fact the
position uniformly endorsed by editors of Beowulf, who emend the
text at this point by adding the prefix ġe-. With regard to ġeġnum
fōr, to consider it authentic would neglect the fact that trisyllabic
sequences with an SS stress contour and with an alliterating first
lift occurring within the second half of the line are invariably either
preceded by a minimum of one unstressed syllable or followed by
exactly one unstressed syllable both in Beowulf and elsewhere in
Old English poetry. Since ġeġnum fōr does not admit any other
element after fōr, at least one unstressed element seems to have
been dropped accidentally by the scribe immediately before ġeġnum.
The editors of Klaeber IV supply þǣr, a relative conjunction that
not only makes for a regular type B verse, but also improves the
syntax of the passage.
There remains only one supposed instance of the SS pattern in
Beowulf to be considered: 2150a lissa ġelong. Although its source of
error is debatable, the three-position analysis for this verse has been
nonetheless repeatedly questioned. Geoffrey Russom, for example,
has proposed an attractive four-position interpretation, according
to which the letter a should be construed not as the inflectional
ending for genitive plural, but as the lexically prominent adverb ā
53
See also Sievers 1885: 268ff., 312; Bliss 1962: §15; Pope 1966: 318–320; 371–372;
Fulk 1996: 5; 1997: 39; Terasawa 2009; 2011: 49–52.
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
“always” (1987: 117–118). That way, the verse would read liss ā ġelong,
with the stress contour of a rhythmical type E. Additionally, the
editors of Klaeber IV have suggested that ġelong is perhaps a scribal
substitute for an authorial dialect form that would have resulted
in an original four-position verse (Fulk, Bjork, and Niles 2008:
234). Nevertheless, this verse is clearly unique in that none of
the plausible sources of error has achieved clear consensus among
metrists. The difficulty that lissa ġelong has traditionally posed
to experts in Old English metre is used by Weiskott as a lever
for his argument in support of the metricality of the SS verse
type. He focuses the entire body of his essay exclusively on the
resistance shown by lissa ġelong to consensual emendation, while
relegating the other supposed instances of the SS pattern to a list
in a footnote, as if the mere lack of a universally accepted source of
error for lissa ġelong somehow validated the dubious three-position
interpretation of the other twelve verses.
The strategy followed by Weiskott might be rhetorically
effective, but it is unwarranted in proper metrical argumentation,
where, as has been argued at the beginning of this study, the
authenticity of a verse type is established not on the basis of an
isolated and relatively ambiguous manuscript reading, like hrēas
blāc or lissa ġelong, but on the strength of a statistically significant
incidence of unambiguous instances in the surviving corpus of Old
English poetry. This and other related methodological issues are
treated more extensively in the next part of the present article.
2 Incidence and authenticy
When Weiskott’s ambiguous corpus of thirteen verses is taken
from its marginal location in the footnotes and is examined
carefully, it becomes noticed that only two of the supposed
instances of the SS pattern are trisyllabic. Such an insignificant
incidence in an already insignificant corpus indicates that the SS
type is inauthentic, since the occurrences of ideal realizations of
a genuine metrical pattern ought to outnumber those of marked
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realizations. For example, four-syllable type A verses like hringa
fenġel,54 in which each syllable constitutes a single metrical
position, were regarded by poets as ideal realizations of the
four-position SS pattern, as is indicated by their outstanding
incidence in Old English poetry. On the other hand, five-syllable
type A verses like monegum mǣġþum55 or swǣse ġesīþas56 were
perceived as acceptable, marked variants of the same metrical
type. Consequently, their incidences, though substantial, are not
as high as those of the four-syllable realization. The situation is
exactly the opposite with regard to Weiskott’s corpus: it consists
of only a handful of verses, the majority of which could not count
as ideal realizations. According to his scansion, five verses would
show protracted drops (183b, 186b, 736a, 747b and 2150a); another
six would have a resolved second lift (845a, 881a, 940b, 954a, 1728a
and 2430b); and only the remaining two would be ideal trisyllabic
realizations of the three-position pattern (652a and 1404b). Had
the SS pattern been an authentic metrical type at the disposal
of Old English poets, the body of verses that could have been
gathered would be much larger, and the proportion between
ideal and marked realizations would be the converse. Thus, it is
precisely the character of Weiskott’s own corpus of evidence that
betrays the inauthenticity of the pattern it aims to validate.
Trisyllabic verses featuring an SS pattern are vanishingly rare
in the surviving corpus of Old English poetry. In fact, some syllabic
sequences with the SS stress contour for which there are good
linguistic reasons to be expected are never found as independent
verses. Such absence is indicative of the unmetricality of the SS
pattern, because an authentic verse type would inevitably have
resulted in a significant number of linguistically probable ideal
54
“Prince of rings.”
55
“To many nations.”
56
“Dear comrades.”
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
realizations. For example, trisyllabic verses like *swǣs ġesīþ,57 which
consists of a monosyllable followed by an iambic disyllable, are
systematically absent from the records. Words with the stress
contour of swǣs, however, are extremely common in both Old
English language and verse; and words with the stress contour of
ġesīþ, though not as frequent, are also common in the language
and easily found in other metrical contexts. Clearly, the nature
of the stricture against the occurrence of the sequence *swǣs ġesīþ
in verse must be other than linguistic. The recursive incidence
of similar verses like swǣse ġesīþas (Beowulf 29a, 2040a, 2518a; cf.
1934a) suggests that the restriction is purely metrical: verses like
*swǣs ġesīþ do not occur because they are prohibited by the metrical
system. That the ideal realization of the SS pattern is unmetrical
is perhaps the clearest indication that the entire pattern must be
inauthentic. To argue that the SS type is authentic in Beowulf is
thus to fight an inevitable defeat against the virtually non-existent
incidence of its ideal trisyllabic realizations both in Beowulf and in
the rest of Old English poetic monuments.
The problems with Weiskott’s argument do not end here. He
states that the traditional prohibition of Sieversian metrics against
three-position verses is unwarranted, given the legitimacy accorded
to type D* verses like Beowulf 770a rēþe renweardas,58 whose metrical
configuration (SSs) apparently consists of five positions (2013
passim). Or, to put it another way, Weiskott maintains that since
an apparently non-four-position pattern like type D* is regarded as
authentic by Sieversian metrics, then the restriction traditionally
held by metrists against another non-four-position pattern like
SS must be arbitrary. But, on the contrary, it is Weiskott’s charge
against Sieversian metrics that is demonstrably baseless. The
foundation on which the edifice of Sieversian metrics is constructed
is essentially empirical. Thus, an apparently problematic verse type
57
“Dear comrade.”
58
“Fierce guardians of the house.”
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like D* is nonetheless considered authentic in Sieversian formalism
on account of its statistically significant incidence. According to
A. J. Bliss’s scansion, there are 146 unambiguous instances of that
type in Beowulf.59 Since the appearance of that type is restricted to
the on-verse, its incidence in the whole poem is of approximately
4.6%. The regularity indicated by such a substantial figure
cannot be ascribed to scribal corruption. The presence of 146
verses unambiguously featuring the same metrical structure must
necessarily reflect the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet. The
authenticity that Sieversian metrics accords to type D* is therefore
supported by strong empirical evidence.
This point can be further illustrated by reference to another
well-known verse pattern that also seems not to comply with the
four-position principle: type A3, as in Beowulf 106a siþðan him
scyppen,60 which apparently comprises three metrical positions. Its
statistical incidence is once again the reason why it is accepted as an
authentic verse type by Sieversian metrics. Calvin B. Kendall counts
315 unambiguous instances of type A3 in Beowulf (1983: 14). Since
instances of type A3 can occur only in the on-verse, its incidence
in the whole poem amounts to approximately 10%. It cannot
reasonably be doubted that this figure results from the application
of the principles governing the metrical practice of the poet. The
authenticity of this verse type, like that of type D*, is therefore
founded on its statistically substantial number of occurrences.
The genuine existence of types D* and A3, however, does not
compromise the authenticity of the four-position principle, which
is still able to account for the metricality of more than 85% of the
remaining verses in the poem. It is on the basis of the empirically
demonstrable reality of types D* and A3, on the one hand, and of
the four-position principle, on the other, that the Sieversian theory
59
This figure has been calculated using Vickman 1990.
60
“After him the lord.” On the loss of final d in scyppen, see Klaeber IV, “Language
and Poetic Form,” §20.7.
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
of Old English metre is constructed. Thus, although type A3 has
sometimes been analysed as a three-position pattern, traditional
metrists categorize it as an acceptable variant of the basic fourposition metrical configuration (Cable 1974: 20–31; Fulk 2002: 339,
n. 10). The theoretical harmonization between type D* and the
four-position principle has been provided by both Tom Cable and
Seiichi Suzuki, who convincingly account for type D* as a surface
manifestation of an underlying four-position pattern (Cable 1991:
37, 138–139, 143; Suzuki 1992; 1995: 21–22).
The case for the authenticity of the SS pattern, on the
contrary, lacks empirical justification. A cursory glance at the
incidences of types D* and A3, on the one hand, and at the
incidence of verses that according to Weiskott feature the SS
pattern, on the other, suffices to substantiate this claim. Since
according to him there is no metrical restriction on SS verses
preventing them from occurring in the off-verse, the incidence
of his thirteen verses in Beowulf amounts to 0.2%, a figure that
starkly contrasts with the 4.6% and 10% incidences of types D*
and A3. These figures demonstrate that the incidences of the
three verse types are not comparable. If the SS type had been
considered authentic by the poet, it is improbable that he would
have produced such an insignificant quantity of three-position
verses. As we can see, then, the mere calculation of the pertinent
statistics confirms that the allegation of arbitrariness levelled by
Weiskott against Sieversian metrics is frivolous. The Sieversian
acknowledgement of the authenticity of types D* and A3 is as
empirically justified as its rejection of the genuineness of the SS
pattern, since the two positions are determined exclusively by
their differential incidences in the corpus of Old English verse.
With an incidence slightly above 0%, the plea for the authenticity
of the SS pattern seems to be based on nothing but wishful
thinking.
Yet Weiskott’s argument is faulty in a more fundamental way.
If the results of metrical research are to be trusted, the incidence
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of a certain verse type can be calculated only according to the
number of unambiguous instances that occur in the corpus under
study. As has been argued in the first part of the present article,
however, at least twelve out of Weiskott’s thirteen instances do not
unambiguously feature the SS pattern. Weiskott himself seems
to be aware of this fact when he states that the verses he gathers
“are always differently explained or emended” (2013: 483). That the
traditional explanations of these verses are summarily dismissed
by Weiskott is unsurprising, given his belief that the restriction of
Sieversian metrics against the SS pattern is arbitrary. But genuine
metrical studies do not proceed that way. The authenticity of a
verse type can be gauged only by the number of its unambiguous
instances, since an authentic verse type would have resulted in a
significant number of verses of that type for which no coherent
alternative explanations could be proposed. Since the only instance
that could be unambiguously adduced in support of the authenticity
of the SS pattern in Beowulf is lissa ġelong, the actual incidence of
unambiguous occurrences in the poem is 0.01%. Thus, the SS
pattern is far too infrequent in Beowulf to admit its metricality.
As Fulk has put it, “scribal transmission is too uncertain to permit
a single example of a metrical type to carry much weight” (1992:
§209).
Another argument advanced by Weiskott in support of the
authenticity of the SS type in Beowulf is that the pattern in
question is authentic in Old Norse verse (2013: 484, n. 4). Yet
once again, his argument is contradicted by the evidence. The
SS pattern has traditionally been considered a genuine metrical
type in fornyrðislag due to its statistically significant presence in
Eddic poetry, especially in some poems. For example, according to
Suzuki’s count, the heroic Sigurðarqviða in scamma, at 568 verses,
contains 29 instances of the SS pattern; and the mythological
poems Hyndlolióð and Rígsþula, at 294 and 296 verses respectively,
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Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
contain 21 and 59 occurrences (2009: 31).61 Therefore, the respective
incidences of the SS verse type in these Eddic poems are 5.1%,
7.14%, and 20%. Faced with statistics such as these, Eduard Sievers
naturally accepted the type as formally legitimate in fornyrðislag,
since such substantial incidences cannot have accidentally resulted
from the scribes’ unstable practice (1893: §45.2). These figures
starkly contrast with the trivial 0.2% incidence to which Weiskott’s
corpus of thirteen instances would amount if they unambiguously
featured the SS pattern. Indeed, Weiskott seems not to have
calculated these statistics before advancing his argument: it is
difficult to see how he could have ever proposed the purported
parallel between the presence of the SS type in Old Norse and in
Beowulf had he reckoned them.
Weiskott also argues that the SS pattern would have been
subjected to a gradual process of regularization over the history
of Old English metre. Although this is certainly the case
with the SS pattern in Old Norse, Weiskott’s argument runs
counter to the course of Old English metrical history, which is
inextricably linked to the history of the Old English language.
In Old Norse, the unstressed short vowels of many words had
been dropped by the beginning of the ninth century, as a result
of which many four-syllable verses became trisyllabic (Gordon
1957: 276; Russom 1998: 34). For example, a trisyllabic verse like
Þrymsquiða 17/2 þrúðugr áss,62 whose stress contour is SS, might
conceivably have originated in a regular four-position type A
verse with the Proto-Norse disyllabic u-stem *ansuʀ in the place
of monosyllabic áss. After the loss of unstressed short vowels, the
poets would have reinterpreted these trisyllabic verses as regular,
thereby composing new verses with a three-position metrical
61
On the development of the SS type in Old Norse verse, see also Suzuki 2011
and 2014.
62
“Mighty god.”
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configuration, like Rígsþula 43/5 meirr kunni hann,63 a foursyllable verse featuring the three-position SS pattern.64 This
interpretation is substantiated by the abovementioned incidences
of the SS type in some Eddic poems composed in fornyrðislag.
Many of the changes that took place in the Old English language,
however, were conducive to the converse tendency (Lehman 1956:
88–93). For one, the development of epenthetic vowels produced
an increase in the number of syllables of a significant amount of
words. Further, as a consequence of the reduction in the number
of compounds that came about with the decline of the poetic
tradition, the language of poetry was patterned on that of prose,
which substantially increased the number of unstressed function
words in the line. Hence, contrary to Weiskott’s argument,
non-early Old English poetry was an unlikely context for the
regularization of the catalectic SS metrical type to occur.65
The incidence of the SS pattern in a larger corpus of
Old English poetry also contradicts the notion that it became
regularized later in the period. In his monumental A History of Old
English Meter, Fulk endeavoured to determine the chronological
significance of a set of metrical and linguistic archaisms by studying
their distribution throughout a corpus of more than fourteen
thousand lines, containing poems that can be externally dated to
both the early period, like Cædmon’s Hymn, and the late period,
like The Battle of Maldon or Durham. Excluding Beowulf from
this corpus, the number of verses with an unambiguous SS stress
63
“He knew more.”
64
Winfred P. Lehman lists a series of phonological and morphological changes in
the Old Norse language that contributed to the appearance of the catalectic SS
type in fornyrðislag metre (1956: 80–84).
65
The increase in the number of unstressed function words in late Old English
verse has long been recognized. See, for example, Russom 2002, where the
expansion of the line is treated as an indication of late composition. See also Cable
1991: 41–65; Fulk 1992: §§290–317; Russom 2004: 292–297, 2012; and Hartman
2014.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
72
Three-position verses and the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet
contour is three: Genesis A 2217b ǣniġ ne wearð,66 2695 lāre ġebearh67
and Elene 534a frīġneð ymb ðæt trēo68 (Fulk 1992: §§210–211). Or, to
put it another way, the incidence of unambiguous occurrences of
the SS type in such an enormous body of verse is of approximately
0.01%, exactly the same as the incidence in Beowulf. This figure
unequivocally indicates that the poets perceived the three-position
SS pattern as unmetrical throughout the history of Old English
metre, and that therefore the four unambiguous instances found
in the large corpus of verse analysed by Fulk, including Beowulf,
are not authorial. As Fulk has put it, “the underlying four-position
pattern remains unchanged over the history of Old English verse,
from Cædmon’s Hymn to Durham. Even poems like Maldon that
differ widely from the standard of Beowulf in numerous details do
not violate the four-position pattern” (1992: §208).
3 Conclusion
At the beginning of his essay, Weiskott asserts that “verses of the
form SS occur in Beowulf ” (2013: 483). Of course, SS verses occur
in the transmitted text of the poem, alongside many corrupt forms
requiring emendation.69 Their occurrence in Beowulf, however, is
a hypothesis to be tested, not an indisputable fact upon which an
argument can be constructed. The present essay has demonstrated
that the SS metrical type fails to pass the test of authenticity. As
we have seen, there are four unambiguous occurrences in a corpus of
approximately 28,364 verses. This means that its overall incidence in
such a substantial body of poetry, at 0.01%, is almost non-existent.
To regard it as authentic, therefore, would compel us to believe
that the poets’ systematic avoidance of that type is an accident—an
66
“No [son] was.”
67
“By cunning protected.”
68
“Asks about that tree.”
69
See, for example, the errors surveyed in Lapidge 2000 and Neidorf 2013.
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Rafael J. Pascual
extremely improbable coincidence. It is far more probable that the
reason why the poets systematically avoided the SS pattern is that
they considered it unmetrical on account of its three positions, and
that consequently the few unambiguous instances of the SS type
that have happened to be recorded are the products of scribal error.
This hypothesis has the complementary virtue of accounting for
the metricality of the vast majority of verses found in the surviving
poetic manuscripts. Weiskott’s claim (2013: 485) that treating SS
verses as authentic would be a gain for textual criticism and metrical
study is plainly mistaken. In actuality, crediting his untenable
hypothesis would cause textual critics to regard scribal errors as
authorial readings and lead metrists to misapprehend the principles
that govern the metrical practice of the Beowulf poet.
Rafael J. Pascual
Universidad de Granada
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by N. Davis. Oxford, Oxford University Press.
•
Received 12 May 2014; accepted 21 May 2014
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BEOWULF AND THE ORIGINS OF THE
WRITTEN OLD ENGLISH VERNACULAR
Abstract: This paper seeks to present an overview of the evidence for vernacular literacy
in England prior to the Alfredian revival and, in the light of this, to discuss whether, in
principle, the Beowulf poem—like the Dream of the Rood—could have undergone several
iterations before assuming its full literary form. Keywords: Old English, vernacular literacy,
Beowulf, Dream of the Rood, History, Art History, Mercia, Kent, Northumbria, Wessex,
King Alfred, Book of Cerne, Book History.
Resumen: Este artículo busca presentar una panorámica de las pruebas de una alfabetización
vernácula en la Inglaterra anterior al renacimiento alfrediano y, en consecuencia, discutir
si, en principio, el poema Beowulf—como el Sueño de la Cruz—podría haber sufrido varias
revisiones antes de asumir su forma literaria completa. Palabras clave: Inglés antiguo,
alfabetización vernácula, Beowulf, Sueño de la Cruz, Historia, Historia del arte, Mercia, Kent,
Northumbria, Wessex, Rey Alfredo, Libro de Cerne, Historia del libro.
do not propose to engage here in a specific discussion
of the dating or localisation of the sole surviving early
manuscript witness to the Old English poem known as
Beowulf, nor to participate in the complex and contentious debate
concerning the generation of the fully-fledged composition that is
preserved therein, as there are those far better qualified to do so.1
Rather, I should like to consider whether the cultural contexts for
the composition and transmission of vernacular material of this
sort might allow, in principle, for something of a back-story to
this epic work, prior to its appearance in the Nowell Codex around
the year 1000. This will entail a consideration of the origins of
the written English vernacular and of the nature of cumulative
composition, as well as of audience reception by what might be
termed a “community of reading,” by which I mean the widest
participative group sharing access, of varying sorts and degrees, to
I
1
I should like to thank Leonard Neidorf for his encouragement in writing this
paper. For an overview of the debate on the dating of Beowulf as it currently stands,
see Neidorf 2014.
ISSN: 1132–631X
Michelle P. Brown, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 81–120
Michelle P. Brown
a common narrative. This may, or may not, take a written form or
forms and may, or may not, entail the ability to read writing.
The majority of extant manuscripts containing Old English,
including the four poetic codices, were written in the tenth to
twelfth centuries. Transcription errors and archaic orthographical
forms indicate that some of the texts in these manuscripts were
composed at a significant but uncertain remove. Nevertheless,
scholars have frequently assumed that the palaeographical dating of
our extant manuscripts provides us with more than the terminus ante
quem of their contents. There is a problematic tendency in recent
Old English studies for scholars to equate the date of a particular
manuscript’s production with the date of its content’s composition.2
Thus, it is often assumed that if a prose text is found in a tenth- or
eleventh-century manuscript, it must have been composed then.
However, R. D. Fulk has recently made a persuasive case
against this assumption, demonstrating that a substantial number
of vernacular prose texts contain archaic and dialectal features that
render eighth-century composition far more probable (1992: 60–
65). Likewise, the Leiden Riddle, an eighth-century Northumbrian
translation of Aldhelm’s Enigma 33 (Smith 1933: 18, 23–25; Van
Kirk Dobbie 1942: cviii–cx, 109, 199–200),3 survives due to copying
by a tenth-century hand (in Leiden, Universiteitsbibliotheek, Voss.
Lat. Q. 106, f. 25v).4 A further intriguing case is the Collectanea
Pseudo-Bedae, a miscellaneous assemblage of materials including
riddling questions, formerly attributed to Bede and included in
the edition of his complete works printed in Basel in 1563,5 of
2
In the case of Beowulf studies this has escalated since the publication of Chase
1981 and Kiernan 2011.
3
I am deeply indebted to Mercedes Salvador-Bello for this reference, and those
in the following two footnotes.
4
For a full description of this manuscript and its contents, see Bremmer &
Dekker 2006: 107–112 and Parkes 1972: 216–217.
5
Herwagen 1563: III.647–674. For discussion, see Bayless & Lapidge 1998.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
which no manuscript copy survives. Nonetheless, comparison with
other literary works led Lapidge to conclude that the florilegium
probably originated in the mid-eighth century, “either in Ireland
or England, or in an Irish foundation on the Continent” (Bayless &
Lapidge 1998: 12).6 Such admissions of the possibility of an earlier
date of initial composition than that of the extant manuscript
evidence is not new; Tolkien adopted a similar stance in his seminal
paper “The Monsters and the Critics,” delivered in 1936, in which
he suggested a date for Beowulf closer to that of Bede (Tolkien
2006).
Leonard Neidorf has taken a similar stance in his recent study
of the poem Widsið, of which he writes (2013a: 165):
Recent work on Widsið contends that there is little evidence
supporting the presumed early date of composition. This
essay argues, however, that four categories of evidence can
be brought to bear on the dating of Widsið—orthographic,
lexical, onomastic, and cultural—and that all four of these
categories agree in support of an early date of composition.
Concerning Beowulf, Neidorf (2013b) has also shown that, between
the seventh century and the time that the monk “Biuuulf ” was
commemorated in the Durham Liber Vitae (written around 840),
parents were naming their children after a legendary hero whose
reputation was already well-known, and who was probably later
placed at the heart of the famous poem. Neidorf (2013c), and
earlier Michael Lapidge, has also cited the occurrence of multiple
scribal errors in respect of the name in support of an earlier written
circulation prior to the poem being inscribed in the Nowell Codex
in the early eleventh century. Lapidge (2000) has related some
of these errors, palaeographically, to misunderstandings of eighth6
This compilation shares numerous characteristics with other riddling dialogues,
see Bayless & Lapidge 1998: 13. However, the inclusion of five pieces from
Symphosius’s Enigmata and five from Aldhelm’s demonstrates that the author
of the Collectanea was acquainted with major riddle collections, see Bayless &
Lapidge 1998: 22.
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Michelle P. Brown
century Insular set minuscule letter-forms of a sort current before
the mid eighth century.
An over-reliance upon the materiality of the evidential base
under-estimates the likely low survival rate for the early medieval
footprint of memory and identity. The fact that few artefacts and
manuscripts bearing written Old English survive does not mean
that it did not enjoy wider currency. In fact, the law of probability
would suggest that, on the basis of those items that do survive, it
would have done. Also, there are a series of references in historical
texts of the period and a number of cultural contextual parallels
that would likewise indicate that the written vernacular was
more widespread during the pre-Alfredian period than has been
assumed.
A number of literary-historical assumptions support and
inform the assumption that Old English texts are more likely to
be late rather than early. One of these beliefs is that the vernacular
was rarely used in writing before the reign of King Alfred. The
cultural and political agendas of the king and his successors led
them to portray him as an innovator in this practice, and modern
scholars have generally credited his claims, partly in response to a
reaction against an earlier scholarly tendency to assign the origins
of major cultural trends to the age of Bede.7 Dorothy Whitelock
(1951: 25) helped to shift such assumptions when she suggested
that a later date (before 835), perhaps the reign of Offa of Mercia,
might be a more credible context for the origins of the Beowulf
poem.8 Roberta Frank (1981, 2007), John D. Niles (1999, 2007),
and Craig Davis (1996, 2006) are amongst those who have since
argued eloquently that the Alfredian program of translatio and
renovatio would have created new conditions conducive to the
7
For a summary of the debate on the dating of Beowulf as it stood at the end of
the twentieth century, see Chase 1981, especially his Introduction (3–8).
8
An attribution of the poem to Offa’s reign was subsequently taken up by Wrenn
and Sisam, see Chase 1981: 7.
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
composition of Beowulf. N. F. Blake (1977) has argued that the bulk
of Old English poetry, including Beowulf, was composed during or
after Alfred’s educational program, which “provides us with a good
reason for the rise and development of the poetry.” The biggest
support for the myth that the vernacular was born during Alfred’s
reign, however, is the assumption that manuscript dates provide
special insight into composition dates. E. G. Stanley (1981) has
expressed this questionable idea in the context of the dating of
Beowulf: “The greater the distance between the date of the Beowulf
manuscript—“s. X/XI” by paleographical dating—and the posited
date of the poem as we now have it, the heavier the element of
hypothesis.”
The present essay will not make a specific argument about
the date of Beowulf. Rather it will reconsider evidence bearing
on some of the literary-critical and text-historical assumptions
that have informed discussion of the issue. In particular, it will
posit powerful cumulative evidence indicating that the vernacular
was used in writing during the earlier Anglo-Saxon period. This
evidence offers some important methodological reminders: that
the extant manuscripts present a skewed and partial image of
the vibrant cultural production of Anglo-Saxon England; that
the assertions of King Alfred, his heirs and publicists should not
always be taken at face value; and that we must take adequate
account of probable lacunae in the evidence as well as its extant
material manifestations. Glosses, texts, inscriptions, and several
crucial passages from Bede indicate that there must have been
frequent use of the vernacular in writing before Alfred’s reign.
This paper is thus intended to encourage us to reconsider how
we discuss Old English literary history. We may achieve a more
nuanced understanding of the literary culture of Anglo-Saxon
England by focusing less on homogenizing manuscript dates and
more on evidence indicating probable composition dates and
cultural trends.
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Discussions of this Beowulf poem’s origins have entailed
a consideration of the text, palaeography and codicology of the
Nowell Codex, its dating and localisation (this actual sole surviving
manuscript dating to c.1000–1025, place of origin uncertain), and
whether it is: (a) a copy of an earlier work; (b) a representative of
authorial input and therefore close to the date of actual composition;
or (c) part of an ongoing iterative process of textual transmission in
which an earlier core text is being amplified or reworked in some
way. Amongst the many valuable contributions to this debate has
been the invaluable work undertaken by Kevin Kiernan, especially
in pursuit of the goal of making Beowulf the first cybernaut, with
the appearance of the electronic Beowulf in which the manuscript
was digitised and given a digital raft of scholarly apparatus and
accompanying commentary (Kiernan 2011). Then there has been
the ongoing process of examining the cultural context in which
the action of the poem is set and the equation of this with material
culture as attested by archaeology and art and attempts to match
this to historical context—i.e. to render it period specific by locating
parallels to features such as the hall in Heorot, ship burial (which
has been compared to that excavated at Sutton Hoo), treasure
hoards concealed in barrows and the like. Most recently, in this
vein, has been the fascinating work by John D. Niles (1999, 2007)
on correspondences between the material culture described in the
poem and the excavations at the Danish site of Lejre, where halls
similar to Heorot have been discovered, and also on the context
of oral literature. The question then arises of whether such wellobserved evocations of social setting are period specific or whether
they represent a literary topos, designed to evoke a past age and,
if the latter, to identify a historical context for composition that
would make such an evocation of an earlier age desirable. In the case
of Beowulf and the ideal it presents of Germanic warrior lifestyle,
these might include a wish to summon up such heroic associations
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
for reasons of geneaological and political legitimisation,9 or a
desire to heighten the sense of a shared cultural memory between
different peoples of common pagan Germanic root-stock, namely
the Anglo-Saxons and the Scandinavians who had followed them
in settling in Britain from the ninth century onwards.
Such debates are not exclusive to Beowulf, of course. The study of
the transmission of Homeric epic and its transition from an oral to
a written mode of dissemination and preservation springs to mind
as, closer to hand in both time and space, does that of the great
Celtic epic, the Táin Bó Cúailnge (“The Cattle Raid of Cooley;”
Kinsella 1969). This is thought, on linguistic grounds, first to have
been committed to writing in approximately the seventh century,
although, like its Anglo-Saxon counterpart Beowulf, the detail of
the world in which it is set relates to the pre-Christian Iron Age,
whereas its earliest extant manuscript version dates to a later period,
in this case to around 1100. A sixteenth-century copy is preserved
in British Library, Egerton MS 93, and this exhibits a remarkable
conservatism, as if highly trained druidic oral mnemonic discipline
had been imported into the written environment, safeguarding the
smallest details of the material culture and practices of an earlier
age across perhaps as much as a millennium and a half by means
of careful, disciplined recitation and periodic attempts to capture
this orality in written form. As research by Robin Flower, a curator
at the British Museum Library, demonstrated, as late as the midtwentieth century Peig Sayers, an elderly woman living on the
Blasket Islands in western Ireland and who was “illiterate” in the
conventional sense, was still able to recite much of the tale verbatim
9
These include the work by Craig Davis in identifying an Alfredian dynastic
genealogical interest in asserting a link with the Germanic dynasties of the Beowulf
poem, tracing his father’s line back to Scyld and his mother’s to the Geats and
Goths (see Davis 1996, 2006). Helen Damico has recently delivered lectures on
her work to demonstrate a link between the poem and Queen Emma’s dynastic
interests.
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as it occurred in its medieval written form, purely from memory
(Flower 1978; Sayers 1974).
Like Beowulf, the Táin contains references to things and
practices that may have passed out of currency by the time that
they were recorded on the manuscript page. For example, the use
of the Celtic proto-writing system, ogham/ogam, attributed to the
god Ogmios, although it is essentially an exploded version of the
Roman alphabet which takes the form of carved lines grouped in
families of five. Bede’s explication of the decimal system and the use
of finger-counting may owe something, ultimately, to druidic use
of the digits as a mnemonic aid, which also led them to group the
graphic characters of ogam into fives, exhibiting the influence of
Pythagorean number symbolism. The practice was still employed,
much later, in printing by typesetters. A similar treatment of
exploded letter-forms may also be encountered in some of the
grafitti at Pompeii. Ogam was used for short inscriptions from the
first to the seventh centuries, in Ireland and by Irish emigrants to
Scotland and Wales, whose inscriptions reveal that they retained
their native tongue. These often commemorate individuals but the
talismanic potential of ogam is also indicated by a passage in the
Táin, in which an army is stopped in its tracks by a stick carved with
an ogam taboo (Kinsella 1969: 68, 263). Even if Christian scribes of
a later age were familiar with the ogam alphabet in an antiquarian
fashion, as probationes pennae and other annotations suggest, their
earlier significance and use had long since disappeared.10
Many manuscripts written in the early Celtic vernacular
languages are, like their Old English counterparts, of later date
than that of the textual composition—notably the twelfth century
in the case of Ireland when the Normans were making their
presence felt—perhaps reflecting a perceived need on the part
10
Interestingly, some 550 medieval rune-sticks have been excavated at Bergen,
Norway and, as Kelly has suggested, it is also possible that they were also used
for practical communication in Anglo-Saxon England. See Liestøl 1968, 1971 and
Kelly 1990: 37.
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of scholars, librarians, or other preservers of group memory, to
preserve indigenous culture in the wake of conquest and renewed
ecclesiastical rapprochement with mainstream Europe. Such a
phenomenon is probably also to be observed in the tendency to
anthologise knowledge in English around the turn of the first
millennium, evinced by works such as the Anglo-Saxon Herbal,
the so-called Anglo-Saxon Scientific Miscellany, the Vercelli
Codex, the Exeter Book and perhaps the Nowell Codex itself
(Brown 2011 & forthcoming ⒝). In the case of Ireland, however,
rapid changes in linguistic development permit the excavation of
underlying composition dates for vernacular texts preserved in later
compilations.
A thumbnail sketch of this process in Ireland may serve
as a useful comparative case study in linguistic and cultural
transmission. To quote Michael Richter, “[a]fter Latin, Irish is the
language in western Europe with the longest and best-documented
development” (Richter 1988: 11). Its earliest vehicles were the ogam
inscriptions (indeed, the term “ogam” was retained in medieval
Ireland as a cognomen for the written vernacular), an elegy of c.
600 (the Amra Coluim Chille), an early “mirror for princes” (the
Audacht Morainn of c. 700) and legal texts. This Archaic Old
Irish accompanies the period of the introduction and spread of
Christianity and its literate learning throughout Irish territory and
travelled with the peregrini to Britain and the Continent. Texts
are more plentiful from the mid-eighth century onwards and
contemporary manuscript witnesses survive, mostly preserved in
continental Irish foundations, such as Bobbio and St Gall, such as
the St Gallen Priscian. Other extant early vernacular texts include
a treatise on the mass in the early ninth-century Stowe Missal and
texts included in the Patriciana of the Book of Armagh, of 807.11
There was a permeable interaction between Latin and the vernacular
11
Dublin, Trinity College Library, MS 52 (Alexander 1978: no. 53), Dublin,
Trinity College Library, MS 52 (Alexander 1978: no. 53).
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and patterns of such interaction could vary according to genre.
Some texts, such as annals and penitentials, were written initially
in Latin but moved into Old Irish from around 800, whilst others,
such as the vernacular secular law tracts, seem to have received a
stimulus from Latin ecclesiastical collections. For example, Senchas
Már (“The Great Old Knowledge”) was compiled during the eighth
century, probably in response to the Latin ecclesiastical Collectio
Canonum Hibernensis (Richter 1988: 88).
In view of the early nature of the origins of the Irish written
vernacular, its interaction with latinate literacy, preserved oral
tradition and observed patterns of preservation and migration
over time and within the extant manuscript corpus, it is generally
considered that the Táin, as represented in its late medieval
manuscript form, preserves at its core an orally composed and
transmitted Iron Age epic, which reflects the social and material
contexts of the pre-Christian period but which has grown and
incorporated textual and linguistic interventions over succeeding
centuries, especially during the process of being committed to
writing by Christian (probably monastic) scribes.
The alacrity of the English in adopting a written vernacular
was probably influenced, at least initially, by the precocity of their
Irish neighbours. Like the Celtic peoples and their ogam, the
Germanic exposure to romanisation seems to have fostered the
adoption of a proto-writing system: runes. Their origins also lie
within the pre-Christian, “pre-literate” prehistoric past. “Rune”
means “secret,” perhaps implying early elitist or cult use. The poet
Cynewulf, perhaps writing as early as the late eighth century, would
append them to his works as a cryptic signature and the solutions
to certain Latin riddles depends upon a knowledge of runes (Page
1973; Sisam 1953: 1–28). The Old German runic futhark / futhorc,
of twenty-four characters grouped in families of eight, is thought
to have been current from AD 200–750. Localised demand led to
expansion to thirty-three in England, for phonetic purposes. Some
runic characters are clearly indebted to the Roman or Etruscan
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
alphabet, their angular forms betraying epigraphic origins. This
is in effect a proto-literate writing system, born of lengthy liminal
contact with the Mediterranean and of limited application. Runes
generally occur in short inscriptions (Page 1995; Forsyth, Higgitt
& Parsons 2001) on artefacts such as jewellery, weapons and
monuments, sometimes occurring alongside Latin, which aided
in their initial decipherment, although they are also discussed in
a scholarly context in later Christian manuscripts and continue
to occur in Christian inscriptions, petering out only after the
thirteenth century.
As far as we can tell, the role of the scop was not as formalised
within early Germanic society as that of the Celtic bard, whose
role as a member of the aes dana—the professional classes—was
protected and celebrated in Irish law and whose training as a
preserver of group memory and identity fell within the orbit of
the specialised druidic caste, with its schooled tradition (McGrath
1979). Yet, even if we were to accept the premise that Germanic
bards were capable of composing, preserving and transmitting a
complex epic poem of the nature of Beowulf across several centuries
before it was written down in the Nowell Codex or any earlier lost
manuscript intermediaries, then the scholarly trend to place the
origins of written Old English in the Alfredian era has still tended
to preclude this hypothesis. But is it really the case that there could
have been no substantial literary compositions in Old English prior
to the Alfredian revival? Or, as in the case of the Táin, might there
indeed be the possibility of a back-story to the process of textual
development and transmission of Beowulf prior to its appearance in
the Nowell Codex?
In a recent monograph, The Book and the Transformation
of Britain c.550–1050 (Brown 2011), I have attempted to assess
something of the nature of the complex interplay between written
and visual literacy and orality in Anglo-Saxon England. In the
course of this study I examined some of the evidence for the early
use of the written vernacular and suggested that there may be some
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value in reappraising the conventional scholarly view, as a cultural
model even given the limited nature of the surviving evidence. It
may be helpful to summarise here some of the context that I have
proposed.
Literacy is more complex than simply the ability to read and to
write. One needs to take full account of the reader as viewer and
the reader as listener. The ability to “read” has as much to do with
the ability to comprehend meaning as with the technical ability to
decipher graphic symbols and form them into words. Oral and visual
literacy play as essential a part in communicating text as writing
has—and often an even greater role for a wider audience. During
the early Middle Ages, when the act of writing was essentially the
preserve of professional scribes and highly educated scholars and
the sustained act of reading generally one of public performance
or private meditation and study, we should not judge a people’s
literacy by the deployment of these skills alone, but also by its
response to the book and to the impact of text conveyed across time
and space. Oral and written forms of transmission might interact
over time, transforming a text in the process.
The rise of the written vernaculars was intimately interwoven
with the introduction and transmission of Scripture (Brown
2005). Centralised authorities tend to promote the use of a single
unifying language, whilst those affirming local or group identity
often use language as a means of signalling independent traditions
and histories. “Vernacular” languages are distinguished by their
particularised use, in contrast to “universal” languages. With the
growth in the acceptance of Christianity these notional universals
became the linguae sacrae: Hebrew, Greek and Latin. In the
Near East, although Greek became the principal language of the
Byzantine Empire, independent local Churches emerged in areas
such as Armenia, Syria and Coptic Egypt, each with their own
languages and traditions which found graphic expression in their
books (Buchtal & Kurz 1942; Déroche & Richard 1997). The same
would occur in the British Isles and Ireland.
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
The imperium of Rome and the pattern of post-Roman
devolution of power to the urban episcopacy led to Latin retaining
a prominence in the West. In the Preface to his Institutiones
Cassiodorus wrote (Mynors 1937: 5–6):
And so it appears that the Divine Scriptures of the Old and
New Testament from the very beginning to the end have been
expanded in the Greek language…But with the Lord’s aid we
follow rather after Latin writers, that, since we are writing
for Italians, we may most fitly seem to have pointed out
Roman interpreters as well. For more gladly is that narration
undertaken by every man which is told in the language of his
fathers.
His portrayal of Latin as the early Italian may be disingenuous, but
it does serve as a timely reminder that the primacy of Latin was
by no means assured. The shift in perception of its status owed a
great deal to Jerome, Popes Damasus and Gregory the Great in
their promotion in the West of Latin Scripture and commentary,
raising “vulgar’ (vulgata) Latin to literary heights. Latin and the
Roman alphabet thus rose to prominence largely in response to
the bureaucratic needs of the amorphous Roman Empire and its
heir—the Church. The question was perhaps whether the Church
would embrace the idea of a lingua franca or would accommodate
its multi-lingual, diverse local parts within a latter-day Tower of
Babel (Brown 2005). The account of Pentecost (Acts 2.4–6) was of
particular relevance in this respect:
All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to
speak in other tongues, as the Spirit enabled them. Now
there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every
nation under heaven. When they heard this sound, a crowd
came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them
speaking in his own language.12
Bede was particularly interested in this episode. In his Commentary
on Acts (Acts 2.6) he said that it could be taken as meaning that
12
Biblical quotations from Palmer et al. 1978.
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the Apostles went to many different peoples and preached in their
many tongues, or that they spoke only once and the Holy Spirit
simultaneously translated for their hearers’ benefit (Hudson 1983:
3–99; Martin 1989). He was much criticised for this assumed
heresy of innovatio and in his Retractatio justified his statement
by emphasizing that he was quoting from Gregory Nazianzen.
Yet Bede was not alone in his perception of the value of sharing
Scripture in the vernacular, in both oral and written forms. Indeed,
some of the earliest examples of written vernaculars come from
precisely this evangelising context.
The conversion process for a religion of the Word entails not
only the translation problems of preaching in the field, for which
interpreters are often required, but also the need to teach the
necessary literacy skills for reading and copying texts. Missionaries
accordingly often resorted to the use of a written version of the
spoken language of the area they were evangelising, as a step on
the path to achieving full (Latin) literacy. Phonetics played an
important part, for different sounds encountered in local languages
often necessitated the creation of entire scripts or modifications of
existing systems to suit spoken languages, such as the Miao script
developed by Pollard of the Christian Bible Society and Cherokee
script invented by the native American Sequoya and his family
(Brown 1998).13
Gothic was the earliest written vernacular in the late Roman
“West,” invented by Ulfila (c. 311–383) “Apostle to the Goths,”
who drew upon the Greek and Roman alphabets to produce the
written Gothic language in order to translate the Bible. The great
monument to the Gothic language is the Codex Uppsalensis
(or Codex Argenteus: Uppsala, Universitetsbiblioteket, MS
DG I), a splendid volume written in sixth-century Ravenna for
the Ostrogothic king, Theodoric (Brown 1998: 43; Webster &
13
For an outline of biblical transmission in the early Middle Ages see Brown
2006b.
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
Brown 1997: 242–243).14 The adaptation of the Greek alphabet to
Armenian and Georgian is likewise attributed to the fifth-century
missionary St Mesrop and the Greek-based Glagolitic alphabet
is ascribed to St Cyril, missionary to the Slavs. Bede’s claims in
respect of Augustine’s mission having likewise begun the process
of writing Old English (rather than merely inscribing short runic
inscriptions) are not, therefore, without context in the conversion
orbit. He tells us that King Ethelberht of Kent “introduced with
the consent of his counsellors a code of law inspired by the example
of the Romans, which was written in English, and remains in force
to this day” (HE, II.5).
Influenced by a growing perception of the iconic nature of the
book in a religious context, Insular secular rulers were quick to
perceive the value of this powerful medium, and of a literate clerical
administration, and enlisted the support of church personnel in
penning law-codes, charters and genealogies to help establish
secure, legitimate states (Cubitt 1995, 2009; Kelly 1990; Wormald
1999). The Roman missionaries may not have translated the Bible
into English (although the English Church, along with those of the
Irish, would soon display an open mind in translating Scripture),
but they were apparently quick to commit Kent’s Germanic lawcode to the “safe-keeping” of writing, thereby beginning the
processes of transliterating Old English into the Roman script
and integrating the Church into the social structure.15 Augustine’s
role in inventing written Old English is perhaps best viewed in
the context of the mission’s instructions from Pope Gregory the
Great to site Christianity within existing local tradition. The
books that accompanied his mission helped shape perceptions of
the authority of writing in such a society, revolutionizing its oral
literary, learning and administration. Augustine and his followers
14
Facsimile in Svedberg et al. 1927.
15
For an overview of the conversion period in England, see Mayr-Harting 1977
and Brown 2006a.
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had some foundations upon which to build. They supplemented
the Roman alphabet with characters representing alien phonetic
elements based upon pre-existing Germanic runes. Even though
the only extant copy of Ethelberht’s code is in the twelfth-century
copy (the Textus Roffensis, now in Kent Record Office), the script of
which preserves earlier palaeographical features, it therefore seems
reasonable to accept that Augustine and his circle intervened at an
early stage in devising a written form of the language of the people
they had come to convert (see Webster & Backhouse 1991: 39–46).
Those areas which appear to have most consciously preserved
their own script systems, decoration and the vernacular were
those which escaped absorption within the Carolingian Empire
and its successors, namely: Britain, Ireland, Visigothic Spain
and Benevento. This raises the interesting issue of imperialism
and regional identity in book production. The corresponding
reluctance of the East and West Franks and the rest of Italy to
promote the vernacular has been ascribed to the gradual evolution
of the Romance languages from the Latinity of the late Roman
Empire and to a conscious Carolingian policy of promoting
Latin, and Caroline minuscule, as a means of cultural cohesion
and control throughout the Carolingian Empire. Thus German
identity would not be unduly distinguished from that of Gaul, with
its marked Roman legacy and mixed population (Nelson 1996: 10),
and the written culture of the Carolingian Empire did not reflect
its daily speech. Meanwhile, free from centralised rule, the newly
Christianised Anglo-Saxon and Celtic peoples used everything at
their disposal, including language, to share the “Good News” (Old
English gōd spell), as did some of their counterparts in the former
eastern Roman Empire.
In his letter to Archbishop Ecgberht of York, dated 734, Bede—
who presumably also incorporated runic characters into the Latin
alphabet in his writing of the vernacular—wrote that he had found
it useful to translate the Pater Noster and Creed into Old English
for use by priests lacking sufficient Latinity to conduct services
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
(Plummer 1892–1896: II. 405–423; Farmer, Latham & SherleyPrice 1990: 337–351). This passage is often cited as evidence of the
“illiterate” nature of much of the priesthood in England at this
period, but upon closer scrutiny it can be interpreted differently:
In preaching to the people, this message more than any other
should be proclaimed: that the Catholic faith, as contained
in the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s Prayer, which the
reading of the Gospel teaches us, should be deeply memorized
by all who are under your rule. All who have already learnt
the Latin tongue by constant reading have quite certainly
learnt these texts as well; but as for the unlearned, that is,
those who know their own language only, make these learn
the texts in their own tongue and accurately sing them. This
should be done not only by the laity still settled in secular
life but also by clerics and monks who are already expert
in the Latin language. For thus it will come about that the
whole congregation of believers learns how to be full of faith
and how it must protect and arm itself against the attacks of
unclean spirits by firm belief: thus it comes about that the
whole chorus of those who are praying to God learns what
should be specially sought from God’s mercy. That is why I
have frequently offered translations of both the Creed and the
Lord’s Prayer into English to many unlearned priests. For St
Ambrose the Bishop, speaking of faith, admonishes believers
to sing the words of the Creed each morning: thus they fortify
themselves with a spiritual antidote against the devil’s poison,
which he can wickedly instill by day and by night. Moreover
the custom of repeated prayer and genuflexions has taught us
to sing the Lord’s Prayer more often.
Bede’s primary intention here was to foster the creation of a
community of prayer—the embodiment of the Church militant,
the present manifestation of the Communion of Saints, which is
fused with the Church triumphant (those in paradise) and expectant
(those in purgatory) through collective prayer. This is to be sung,
in the tradition of both the Temple and of the Germanic and Celtic
cultures, and in the vernacular, based upon written translations.
The assumption is that there are those who will be able to read text
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in this form—priests and perhaps some laity—who will instruct
others in its recitation. Those clerics who are already fully latinate
and therefore “literate,” are also expected to participate in collective
vernacular performative prayer. Thus the oft misinterpreted passage
presents us with a picture not of lamentable illiteracy amongst the
priesthood, but a more nuanced situation of clergy who were expert
in reading both written Latin and the vernacular, some clergy who
could only read the vernacular—indicating that there was already a
measure of vernacular literacy in the pre-Alfredian era—and laity
who participated in the enactment of written text, by committing
what intermediaries taught them to heart and singing it verbatim,
or perhaps in some cases by first reading the words written in their
own tongue (Farmer, Latham & Sherley-Price 1990: 340).
In a similar vein Bede also relates that Cædmon, using the
divine gift of song, turned Scripture into English verse to make it
more accessible:
There was in the Monastery of this Abbess a certain brother
particularly remarkable for the Grace of God, who was wont
to make religious verses, so that whatever was interpreted to
him out of scripture, he soon after put the same into poetical
expressions of much sweetness and humility in English, which
was his native language. By his verse the minds of many were
often excited to despise the world, and to aspire to heaven.
(HE IV.24)
Only the short piece known as Caedmon’s Hymn is actually quoted
by Bede, but his account reveals that Caedmon was responsible for
many other vernacular poems. To test his new-found gift, Abbess
Hild asked him to compose verse based upon “a passage of sacred
history or doctrine”—the first of the many which followed after he
took the cowl.
Bede’s interest in the vernacular relates to his recognition of
the generosity of the Jews in sharing their faith with the gentiles,
pointing to passages in his commentary on Tobit (3.12 and 2.6)
and their sharing the Word with the gentiles through the Greek
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
Septuagint, an impulse shared by the gentile races of Britain and
Ireland who sought to share their faith with others (Connolly
1997: 24–25). On his deathbed Bede was still sharing—translating
extracts from Isidore’s On the Nature of Things and the Gospel of
St John—fusing the revelations of science and mystic vision in the
quest to know God. As the letter of his pupil Cuthbert to Cuthwin
relates concerning Bede’s final illness in 735 (Farmer, Latham &
Sherley-Price 1990: 358–359):
In these days, besides our lessons and the chanting of psalms,
he was much busied with two short works which are specially
worthy of memory: the translation into our own language
for the Church’s benefit of the Gospel of St John from the
beginning until the passage where it says: “But what are these
among so many?” [John 6.9], and also certain excerpts from
the Book of Cycles by Bishop Isidore, about which he said: “I
do not wish my students to read lies, or to work at this task in
vain after my death.”
Bede’s translations have not survived, but some of his work may
be recollected in the interlinear gloss added c. 950–960 to the
Lindisfarne Gospels by the monk Aldred—the oldest surviving
translation of the Gospels into English, wherein the gloss to John’s
Gospel is executed in two inks; might that honoured by the use
of red ink preserve something of Bede’s translation? (Brown 2003,
2006b). Aldred opened his accompanying colophon with a synopsis
of the Monarchian prologues outlining the process of transmission
(Brown forthcoming ⒜). He associated himself in the colophon
with those to whom original production was ascribed (the scribe,
Bishop Eadfrith of Lindisfarne; the binder, his successor, Bishop
Æthilwald; and the metalworker who adorned it, Billfrith the
Anchorite); in so doing, Aldred presented himself by analogy as
the fourth evangelist (Brown 2003: 96), John, beloved of Christ,
placing himself, and the English language, in direct line of
transmission from the divine to humankind.
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Of similar date is the interlinear gloss supplied by the priests
Owun and Farmon to the early ninth-century Irish MacRegol
(or Rushworth) Gospels (Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Auct.
D. 2. 19). The West-Saxon Gospels (London, British Library,
Royal MS 1.A.xiv), preserved in a manuscript of twelfth-century
date, are written in single columns of continuous prose text with
simple coloured initials. However, the earliest English translation
of a biblical text to survive physically is the interlinear gloss to
the Vespasian Psalter added during the mid-ninth century in
Canterbury to a Kentish volume made a century earlier. Both
these and Aldred’s glosses are inserted with care and sensitivity to
the original layout of two extremely formal tomes. The signs are
that, left to its own devices, Anglo-Saxon England would not have
had to await Wycliffe and Tyndale to have produced an English
vernacular Bible.
The origins of the Anglo-Saxon tradition of glossing may
be observed in the Latin / Old English glossaries used in the
schoolroom from the reforms of learning implemented by
Theodore and Hadrian at Canterbury during the seventh century
(Lindsay 1921). In such handbooks the glosses provide explanations
and perhaps a translation of terms, often drawn from specific texts
or subject-based. Such teaching aids were probably indebted to late
Antique and Merovingian Graeco-Latin glossaries. The eighthcentury Irish use of such glosses is also likely to have been of
relevance here. The impact of the missionary conversion experience
and of the “new learning” promoted by Theodore reverbertated
throughout secular society, as well as the Church. Early English
kings soon came to take pride in tracing their newly Christianised,
integrated ancestry back through historical figures to pagan deities
such as Woden and thence back to the biblical Adam and tracing
their antecedents not only through the songs of bards and scops, but
through the columns of a book, just as Christ’s genealogy opened
the holy Gospelbook. As the deeds of the heroes of generations
past were lauded in song, so the biblical forefathers were celebrated
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
in the feasting hall. The account of Bede’s death, written by his
pupil Cuthbert, bears witness to his love of song, “for he knew our
poems well,” and indeed the earliest recorded Old English verses
(even if only of 9 lines in length) are Caedmon’s hymn (HE IV.24)
and Bede’s death song recounted by Cuthbert (Farmer, Latham
& Sherley-Price 1990: 248–249 and 358, respectively). Yet before
the eighth century was done such cross-cultural synthesis was
becoming unacceptable, at least in cultivated circles, and another
of Northumbria’s scholar sons, Alcuin, would demand affrontedly
of an Anglian religious community, which permitted such songs /
poems / lays to be sung at table, “what has Ingeld to do with
Christ?”16
Another English verse of this era was carved in Roman capitals
and runes on the Ruthwell Cross in the ancient British kingdom
of Rheged in Southwest Scotland during the eighth century.
This monument, a visual meditation in stone on the Passion of
Christ and the religious life, reflects Northumbrian influence in a
recently annexed region, emphasised by its display of runic script
(Ó Carragáin 1994, 2005). In the late tenth-century this verse was
copied in a fuller form in the Vercelli book as The Dream of the
Rood, in which the cross laments its role in the crucifixion of the
young warrior, Christ, but is subsequently honoured by being
covered in precious metals and jewels, becoming the honoured crux
gemmata—symbol of Resurrection. Processional crosses, such as
the early eleventh-century Brussels Cross, which carries passages
similar to the Dream of the Rood poem inscribed upon it, recalled
such eloquent splendour, as would the stone and wooden crosses
that sprouted across the land. Such crosses also often bore scenes
from Scripture, serving as teaching aids and being imbued with
subtle exegetical meaning and typological analogies which would
be apparent to the initiated and which might be expounded to the
16
Alcuin raised this question in a letter dated 797 which has traditionally been
thought to be addressed to Bishop Higbald of Lindisfarne; see Bullough 1993.
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faithful. Bede’s aspirations for reframing heroic northern culture in
Christian guise were being fulfilled.
The Bewcastle Cross, of similar date to Ruthwell, likewise bears
an eroded inscription in runes, proclaiming in Old English the
fame of Northumbria’s royal house—in the heart of British Rheged
which they had annexed (Karkov & Orton 2003). The use of
particular scripts could be a powerful statement of both harmonious
integration and unity, as in the Lindisfarne Gospels where Roman
capitals, Greek letters and stylised forms recalling runes and ogam
are carefully synthesised in its display script, or of cultural and
political supremacy (Alexander 1978: nos. 35, 20; Brown 2003: 55–
56, fig. 25; Lowe 1934–1971: ii.215, ii.213; Webster and Brown 1997:
245–246). It is therefore most unlikely that the Chad Gospels,
whose artist copied the incipit pages of the Lindisfarne Gospels, was
Welsh (as its ninth-century provenance might suggest), for it goes
a step further and features actual runic letter forms in some of its
display script—a thing that no self-respecting Welsh person would
do at a time of resistance to English expansionism (Brown 2003,
2007, 2008). R. I. Page has suggested that the epigraphic runes on
the Ruthwell and Bewcastle crosses and the Cuthbert coffin are
indebted to the approach of manuscript scribes, and the context
of public display of these monuments is such that we are likely
to be witnessing positive cultural statements of “Englishness” and
its relationships to Graeco-Roman past and international Christian
present—with runes already serving as a signifier of Anglo-Saxon
identity. Such semiotics remained important, for most people’s
knowledge of Scripture, as of other texts, would continue to be oral
and visual.
Runes and Roman script also rubricate the Northumbrian
eighth-century whalebone box known as the Franks Casket, which
has been proposed as a book reliquary, Leslie Webster (2010)
suggesting that it contained a Northumbrian royal genealogy. Such
books were penned by clerics and helped to legitimise the rule
of their owners as Christian princes whose ancestors, traditions
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
and beliefs were presented as world history within the context of a
Christian eternity, just as their descent from historical and semimythical figures was traced to Germanic gods and Old Testament
patriarchs. Thus the iconography of the casket related scenes
from Jewish, perhaps Greek, Roman, Germanic and Christian
traditions, captioned in runes and roman capitals, juxtaposing
and synthesising them to provide a visual genealogy of power and
redemption for a contemporary English audience. Thus the bird
whose feathers enabled the vengeful Weland the Smith to escape
his enemy, Nithhad, becomes the Holy Spirit, guiding the Magi
to salvation in the form of the Christ-child, on one face of the
Franks Casket. Not only letter forms and iconographies and myths,
but whole mindsets and socio-ethical codes are juxtaposed and
mutually accommodated. Similarly, at another point during the
eighth century an English reader would gloss the word thalaria, the
winged sandals of Mercury, as “fether homa,” Weland’s garment of
feathers, in a copy of Servius’s commentary on Vergil’s Aeneid, Book
IV, attesting to the level of assimilation and association attained by
Insular readers.17
Stressing a shared, participative world history with their biblical
and Roman counterparts was a preoccupation of Insular ecclesiastical
and secular authorities. The hagiography of native saints, such as
Cuthbert and Guthlac, would soon rival the tales of the heroes of
Germanic and Celtic mythology and those of the Christian martyrs
of Rome—although as Bede laments, in his letter to Ecgberht,
some teachers preferred to fill their minds with secular tales than
the word of God and Alcuin, in his Epistle 124, urged that a reader
rather than a harpist, patristic discourse, not pagan song, be heard
at table (Bullough 1993).
These worthies would therefore doubtless approve that the
earliest extant manuscript of a primary prose text in Old English
17
Spangenberg, Pfarrbibliothek, s.n. (Lowe 1934–1971: xii, no. 1806); see Parkes
1997: 11.
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should occur in a devotional context—in the Book of Cerne, a
western Mercian prayerbook which was probably made for Bishop
Æthelwald of Lichfield (818–830). My identification of the hand of
its Old English prefatory Exhortation to prayer as that of the main
artist/scribe and my discussion of it as guide for the performative use
of this devotional manual, make it the earliest extant example of an
English vernacular text written as part of an original project, rather
than added to an existing work (Brown 1996). One of the prayers
in Cerne, the Lorica of Laidcenn—considered so efficacious that
it was recited thrice daily—also carries a planned interlinear Old
English gloss. It is telling that the Exhortation, an early example
of a vernacular text planned as part of a Latin book compiled from
numerous earlier sources, should be essentially an explicatio and
instructio for its use, which also provides for the possibility of
performance—before God and the communion of saints—with its
exhortations to the user to prostrate himself and engage in other
ritual acts during the text’s use.
My work on this and other Mercian manuscripts of the first
half of the ninth century, and my appraisal of the nature of
the palaeographical and stylistic relationships of the regional
components of what I have termed the “Mercian Schriftprovinz”
(Greater Mercia, including the Fens, Kent and Wessex), coupled
with the arguments adduced by Jennifer Morrish, point to WestSaxon attempts to downplay the cultural achievements of Mercia
as their prominent political forebear. As part of the construction
of a unified England, the rules of Wessex fostered forgetfulness of
the extent of earlier learning and suppressed the Mercian historical
record represented by annals and other documents (Brown 2001:
279–291, 2006: 164–172; Morrish 1982, 1986, 1988; for a more
pro-Wessex view, see Gneuss 1986). Greater Mercia was actively
promoting texts in the vernacular during this period, as the
prose “Exhortation” and glossed lorica in the Book of Cerne, the
interlinear translation / gloss of the Psalms in the Vespasian Psalter
(the earliest extant example of a biblical text in English, following in
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
Bede’s footsteps) and perhaps the Old English Martyrology and the
poetry of Cynewulf (who may have been a Mercian writing around
800) suggest.18 Nicholas Brooks’s picture of the decline of standards
of handwriting and Latinity in the Christ Church Canterbury
scriptorium during the second half of the ninth century, which
is based upon the extant output of one ageing monastic charter
scribe, needs to be balanced against the evidence I have rehearsed
of the continuing presence and influence of Mercian manuscript
exemplars and scholars, such as Wærferth, Plegmund, Æthelstan
and Werwulf, in unoccupied western Mercia and Wessex in the late
ninth century (Brooks 1984; Brown 1996: 16–18, 162–164, 173–177).
Couple this with a wish to recall (or better) Charlemagne’s imperial
achievement in establishing a court-focused scholarly equipe, a
publishing programme in the form of the Tours Bibles,19 and a
cultural renovatio,20 and we have receptive soil for the legend of
Alfred’s literary prowess. This grew over the course of the tenth
century from the seeds of renewal sewn in his own circle—and
probably with his own imprimatur—which were cultivated by his
immediate heirs and eulogised by later authors.
When the preface to the Pastoral Care states that there was
nobody in Alfred’s kingdom who could read Latin by Alfred’s
day, and few elsewhere in England, it may accurately reflect the
situation in Wessex and Kent, but there were evidently those who
could in Mercia, at least. There are indeed indications that the
18
See Bjork 1998; Brown 2006, 2001; Pulsiano 1996; Zacher 2002. We know
Cynewulf ’s name from his runic signatures, woven into the four poems which
comprise his acknowledged corpus: The Fates of the Apostles, Juliana, Elene, and
Christ II (also referred to as The Ascension), which survive in later collections in
the Vercelli and Exeter Books.
19
Alcuin’s programme was probably influenced by Wearmouth / Jarrow’s earlier
“publication” of the works of Bede and of reliable editions of Scripture, in turn
indebted to Cassiodorus’s example.
20
The Carolingian court culture was one that Alfred had visited as a child and
which his Carolingian princess / stepmother had inhabited.
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decline in Latinity had begun prior to the Viking incursions, in the
early ninth century, but that this was patchy and occasioned not so
much by cultural degeneration as by the growth of an active written
vernacular literacy—English was coming of age in its own right and
freeing itself from its Mediterranean masters. It would be ironic
indeed if the edifice of West-Saxon renovatio had its foundations
laid by a largely Mercian team, drawing also upon Continental
precedents and expertise and with a large dash of Welsh hyperbole,
courtesy of “Asser.”
Notwithstanding ongoing scholarly debate concerning the
extent of his personal scholarly role, Alfred’s contribution should
not be devalued, for even if many of the Old English translations
associated with his reforms were penned in the subsequent
generation, he initiated such enterprise by his distribution—by
means of a Wearmouth / Jarrow and Touronian style publishing
drive—to key centres of the Pastoral Care, a work designed to
foster social cohesion—and by choosing the vernacular as its voice.
He also ensured a measure of continuity in traditions of script and
other aspects of book production and consolidated what remained
of local scholarship. He also ensured a growing rapprochement
with the cultural ideals and strategies of the Carolingian Empire,
probably reintroduced schooling, extending it beyond the orbit of
earlier monastic schoolrooms, for a substantial sector of the male
population and began the process of reviving the ecclesiastical
publishing houses and beacons of faith.
These were considerable achievements indeed, but nonetheless
Alfred did not pioneer the use of written Old English. He and his
heirs transplanted and strengthened a vigorous root stock that had
already sprung from the seeds of conversion and the accompanying
reception of full literacy, as was also the case with so many other
of the European and Middle Eastern vernaculars. What Alfred
did do was to escalate a trend to reverse the polarity. Whereas
Insular authors such as Aldhelm and Bede composed in Latin—
even if Bede for one recognised the pragmatic efficacy of vernacular
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
translation—post-Alfredian writers, such as Ælfric, Wulfstan and
Byrthferth, would write predominantly in their native tongue.
Ælfric’s homilies were designed for circulation to a literate Englishreading clergy, whilst Bede lamented the lack of Latinate priests
and began the process of equipping them with written vernacular
tools which they could share orally with their wider communities.
Whereas the churchman Bede translated into English in order to
inform his people of an international Christian literary tradition,
250 years later the layman Ealdorman Æthelweard translated into
Latin in order to integrate his nation’s historical experience back
into that tradition.
The English and Irish escalation in the use of their written
vernaculars during the ninth century can perhaps best be viewed,
in some respects, as an ethnic response to Viking invasion,
settlement and the establishment of a “state within a state.” Ninthcentury Wales (and to a lesser extent Cornwall) witnessed a similar
phenomenon in reaction to English expansionism. For such threats
spurred a desire to preserve national cultural identity. In England,
they also stimulated the translation of appropriate classics, such as
Orosius’s History Against the Pagans, and the production of customwritten vernacular texts, including rousing sermons by Ælfric and
Wulfstan—the Wolf, designed to hearten and to mobilize English
resistance to Scandinavian incursion, penned largely in his own
hand.
The anthologising trends apparent in British and English
literature, from the work of the Welsh cleric Nennius in the ninth
century (Dumville 1985), who tells of his collecting of historical
sources and oral anecdotes to form the Historia Brittonum, to that
of the compilers of the Vercelli book (whom Ó Carragáin (2005)
suggests may have been a canon; see also Scragg 1992) and of the
Anglo-Saxon Scientific Miscellany (BL. Cotton MS Tiberius B.v,
pt 1; McGurk et al. 1983), speak of a desire to capture existing
knowledge—both written and, as Nennius puts it, the “tales of old
men”—within binding boards for posterity, perhaps in response to
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the threat of loss of identity and to the challenge of establishing
a perceived shared identity amongst established and incoming
populations. There are also signs of attempts to assert traditional
ties to ancient and imperial worlds, and to a northern Scandinavian
trading empire with shared Germanic folk roots and vernacular
orality. Such was the climate that cultivated the production of the
Beowulf manuscript, the Old English compendia of poetry, and
sculptural monuments such as the Nunburnholme Cross and the
Gosforth Cross with their juxtaposed images of Crucifixion and
Scandinavian saga.
During the early eleventh century, such intersections of
identities also reached new levels of visual narrative expression
in the Old English Hexateuch (London, British Library, MS
Cotton Claudius B.iv) and the Old English Genesis (Oxford,
Bodleian Library, MS Junius 11) manuscripts. These conflated
vernacular paraphrases of Old Testament texts with picture cycles
of largely Early Christian origin, adapted to reflect the interests
of contemporary “communities of reading,” including women,
and emphasizing the Anglo-Saxon people’s own sense of exile and
journey from their original Germanic homelands to England as
the new “children of Israel.” The English thereby asserted their
own cultural and linguistic identity and set themselves within the
biblical landscape.21
Such works stressed the shared inheritance of Anglo-Saxon and
Scandinavian parallel cultures, sprung from a common Germanic,
and ultimately biblical, stock. Such a trend can be detected as early
as the Alfredian revival, with the inclusion of Othere’s Voyage
alongside the Old English Orosius, which survives in an early
tenth-century copy (the Helmingham / Tollemache Orosius). It
culminated in the Anglo-Saxon world map, the first of the medieval
mappae mundi. This forms part of the Anglo-Saxon Scientific
21
See Barnhouse & Withers 2000; Dodwell & Clemoes 1974 ; Karkov 2006;
Muir 2004; Withers 2007.
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
Miscellany (McGurk et al. 1983), which links material such as
Priscian’s Periegesis, Archbishop Sigebert of Canterbury’s pilgrimage
route, Cicero’s Aratea, the Marvels of the East and computistic
materials, also features a remarkable, precocious world map. Based
upon Roman cartography supplemented by the experience gained
on Scandinavian voyages, this is the first surviving attempt to depict
a world view in diagrammatic form, other than the simple Isidoran
“T maps” in which a globe is divided into three continents. It
depicts Britain and Ireland, with their outlying archipelagos, as part
of a Scandinavian empire linked via trading and pilgrimage routes
to the Holy Land, with Jerusalem as the umbilical centre-point of
the world, and with the outlying lands of legend, as recounted by
the Marvels of the East. The monstrous races that it describes are
not conflated onto the map here, but they are depicted elsewhere in
the volume, and in the Beowulf manuscript where they complement
the theme of Grendel and his Mother in a poem that retains a
recollection of the culture of Germanic prehistory. By the time
of the more famous thirteenth-century Hereford mappa mundi,
which may once have functioned as an altarpiece, the monstrous
races and other aspects of the information in the Miscellany had
been mapped onto the surface of a world which English scholars
such as Bede and Byrthferth had played significant roles in seeking
to understand at a scientific level of revelation. Such was the
sophistication of the rapprochement of learning, text and image
that had been achieved towards the conclusion of our period.
The orality interface remained highly significant. Patrick
Conner’s recent work on Anglo-Saxon guilds has shown that the
song of the Germanic warriors’ mead-hall was giving way, by the
eleventh century, to other sorts of secular fellowship of like-minded
folk, linked by trading interests in a developing urban environment.
Books figured in guild feasts, and in the development of dramatic
performances—forerunners of medieval mystery plays—and
Conner suggests such a context for the performance of at least
some of the poetry and riddles in the Exeter Book (Exeter, Dean
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and Chapter, MS 3501).22 The inappropriate participation in such
social rituals by monkish ale-poets caused Wulfstan to lament,
recalling Alcuin’s demand “what has Ingeld to do with Christ?”
(Cherniss 1972).
We might ask, in return, “what has Beowulf to do with monks?”
Yet retention of a Germanic way of life, or poetic and visual
allusions to it, did not equate to the perpetuation of paganism, for
as Patrick Wormald observed, the Church was not separate from
the world, and Beowulf was not exclusively secular or antipathetic
to a monastic audience (Wormald 1978).
The interplay between the oral and visual imagination and
their commital to long-term graphic retention by means of
the written word and images, which occurred in Anglo-Saxon
England, was a complex one. This, coupled with the models of
transmission provided by works such as the Táin, the works of
Cynewulf (which are preserved in the anthologies in the Vercelli
and Exeter Books) and the Dream of the Rood, would suggest that
it is possible that there was a back-story to the transmission of
the Beowulf poem before it was copied, reworked or expanded, in
the form that it assumes in the Nowell Codex. It is conceivable
that, like the Dream of the Rood, Beowulf first took the form of
a written poem in the Insular age (probably the eighth century).
This would accord with the arcane archaeological, palaeographical
and linguistic features of the poem, the mixed West Saxon and
Anglian dialect of which suggests that an East Anglian, Mercian or
Northumbrian intermediary dwells at the heart of its West-Saxon
body. It may, previously and/or subsequently, have been recited in
the mead hall and extracts from it may also have been inscribed
22
Conner (2009) proposes “to examine the proposition that four poems preceding
the Riddles 1 to 59 in Booklet III of that manuscript beg, by their sequencing as
well as thematic content, to be read together in a performance context, perhaps
appropriate to a banquet with both men and women in attendance, such as those
we know were held by the parish guilds which are documented in southern AngloSaxon England.” See also Conner 2008.
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Beowulf and the origins of the written Old English vernacular
onto stone, bone and wooden monuments and de luxe metalwork
before its full literary form was incorporated by a monastic scribe
into a manuscript anthology, with a focus upon the relationship
between mankind and the monstrous races, sometime around the
year 1000, perhaps stimulated by a rapprochement between English
and Scandinavian society and celebrating their shared roots in the
Germanic past.
Further support for the contention that the Beowulf poem
was an early composition comes from the arguments based upon
linguistic similarities between Beowulf and Genesis A advanced by
Dennis Cronan, who favoured an eighth-century date for both
(Cronan 2004: 49):
The words examined here confirm the presence of the
chronological connection between Beowulf and Genesis A
seen in this list, and to a lesser extent they also confirm the
connection between these poems and Exodus, and perhaps
Daniel, although in this latter case the evidence is not as
reliable. The distribution of suhtriga, heoru, eodor, engel and
missere indicate that these poems are probably early; the
restriction of suhtriga to Genesis A and Beowulf (as well as
Widsith) and to glossaries derived from a seventh- or eighthcentury collection indicates an eighth-century date for Genesis
A, and, by implication, for Beowulf, Maxims I, Exodus and
perhaps Widsith. In the case of Maxims I it is uncertain
whether the evidence points toward an eighth-century date
for some of the materials in the poem, for the editorial work
of an anthologist, or for the poem itself.
This supported the chronology of Old English poetry proposed by
R. D. Fulk (1992: 60–65), which in turn confirmed that advanced
by T. Cable (1981: 80). This in turn lends support to Lapidge’s
contention that errors in the Beowulf poem, as it appears in the
Nowell Codex, were the result of scribal misunderstanding
of certain letters such as would suggest that he was copying an
exemplar in “Anglo-Saxon set minuscule script, written before c.
750” (Lapidge 2000: 34).
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The vernacular, it is clear, moved from the purely oral and
inscriptional to a fully written form during the seventh, and eighth
centuries. The fact that the four compendia of Old English poetry
were penned during the tenth and eleventh centuries should not
lead us to imagine that poetry was not written down in previous
centuries. These compendia contain transcription errors and
archaic orthographical forms, moreover, which would suggest that
they contain poems first committed to writing during the earliest
periods of Anglo-Saxon literacy. A variety of lexical and metrical
evidence supports the possibility that Beowulf was composed in the
earlier Anglo-Saxon period; this essay has simply contributed a
context, in light of which there is no literary-historical reason why
it should not have been.
Michelle P. Brown
School of Advanced Studies, University of London
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•
Received 9 Apr 2014; accepted 03 May 2014
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ENGLAND AND SPAIN DURING THE REIGN
OF KING ÆTHELRED THE UNREADY
Abstract: This paper focuses attention on a small group of silver pennies of Æthelred II,
king of England, minted c. 990, found at Roncesvalles in northern Spain, and a silver dirham
of the caliph Hisham II of Córdoba, minted c. 1000, found on the site of an important abbey
which flourished at the same time in south-western England. No direct connection can be
made between the two finds; but their significance is explored here as evidence for contact
of some kind between England and Spain in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries.
Keywords: Æthelred the Unready, Ælfric of Cerne, Hisham II, Córdoba, Anglo-Spanish
relations, pilgrimage, coinage.
Resumen: Este artículo presta atención a un pequeño grupo de peniques de plata acuñados
hacia 990 por Etelredo II, rey de Inglaterra, y hallados en Roncesvalles (norte de España),
y a un dirham de plata acuñado hacia 1000 en nombre del califa Hisham II de Córdoba y
encontrado en el sitio de una importante abadía que floreció por aquel tiempo en la Inglaterra
suroccidental. No se pueden hacer conexiones directas entre los dos hallazgos, pero aquí se
estudia su relevancia como prueba de algún tipo de contacto entre Inglaterra y España a
finales del siglo décimo y principios del undécimo. Palabras clave: Etelredo II, Ælfric de
Cerne, Hisham II, Córdoba, relaciones angloespañolas, peregrinación, numismática.
istorians of Anglo-Saxon England might once have
been predisposed, of their nature, towards an “insular”
outlook on the past. Of course it has long since become
axiomatic that any aspect of the subject is best approached not only
in its British context but also in wider dimensions. It is in part a
matter of direct contact: of Englishmen crossing the channel on
journeys to foreign parts, under a variety of circumstances, and
for whatever reason; or of missionaries, envoys, learned men and
merchants travelling to England, again for one reason or another. It
is also a matter of indirect influence: the impact on the English of
whatever had been seen, absorbed, or brought in from overseas. It
is a matter, furthermore, of analogies, contrasts, and similarities; of
observing what questions or methods are driving historical enquiry
in one context, and of considering whether anything similar might
apply in England. The importance of the “continental” dimension is
H
ISSN: 1132–631X
Simon D. Keynes, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 121–166
Simon D. Keynes
self-evident already in the fifth century, and it remains so thereafter,
indeed until the English eventually succumbed to it to 1066.
1 England and Spain about the year 1000
An historian of Anglo-Saxon England could venture overseas to
Italy, France, Germany, the Low Countries, Scandinavia, Hungary,
Byzantium, Jerusalem, even India—and find something to say (in
certain contexts a great deal) about contacts, connections, contrasts,
and analogies. Yet what about England and Spain? Although the
works of Isidore, bishop of Seville (d. 636), of Julian, archbishop
of Toledo (d. 690), and others, were well known in Anglo-Saxon
England,1 there is little if any evidence of direct contact between
Visigothic Spain and any of the English kingdoms in the seventh
or early eighth century. The landscape changed following the Arab
conquest of the greater part of the Iberian Peninsula in the first
half of the eighth century; yet it was well known that the Arabs
had been halted by Charles Martel, at Tours, in 732,2 and there
must have been some awareness also of the Christian polities which
survived or emerged in the north. The range of overseas contact
during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready was mapped by
James Campbell in 1978, raising questions which still await further
exploration (Campbell 1986; see also Keynes 2006: 83–84, with
references). My purpose here is to explore two pieces of evidence
which are less visible, but which extend the horizons further. The
evidence itself is numismatic; and attention was first drawn to it,
1
Knowledge of learned works in Anglo-Saxon England is assessed by Lapidge
2006, on the basis of pre-Conquest book-lists, the contents of surviving
manuscripts, and citations in the works of Anglo-Saxon authors which indicate
direct knowledge of identified texts; see Lapidge 2006: 309–313 (Isidore) and 317–
318 (Julian), with references. For Spanish influence on the early English church,
see also Hunter Blair 1970: 130–138, 246.
2
Bede, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, v.23, conceivably (if updated after 731)
with reference to Charles Martel’s victory over the “Saracens” in 732; cf. WallaceHadrill 1988: 199.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
in the 1950s, by Michael Dolley (Mateu y Llopis & Dolley 1952;
Dolley 1957; Scarfe Beckett 2003: 55, fn. 39; and especially Naismith
2005: 207–209, challenging the received wisdom). In each case,
however, the significance of the evidence depends not so much on
the coins themselves, as on wider associations suggested by the
context in which coins of this period were found. It is arguable,
moreover, that the two pieces of evidence, though separate, inform
each other, and that their significance is enhanced when they are
assessed in combination.
Before looking more closely at this evidence, it might be helpful
to compare England and Spain in general terms. In the middle of
the eighth century, at about the time when the Arabs became firmly
established in Spain, the peoples known collectively as the English
were distributed among seven identifiable polities: the “Anglian”
kingdoms of the Northumbrians, the Mercians, and the East Angles;
the “Saxon” kingdoms of the West Saxons, the East Saxons, and
the South Saxons; and the kingdom of Kent (Keynes 1995, 1999,
2014). The power of the Mercian kings was nearing its height;
but the balance began to change in the 820s, and by the middle
of the ninth century the rulers of the West Saxons had extended
their authority south-eastwards into Kent, Sussex, and Essex. The
seven kingdoms were thus reduced to four: Northumbria, Mercia,
East Anglia, and an enlarged kingdom of Wessex (with its southeastern extension). Not long afterwards, in the 860s, the position
was changed by the intensification of the Viking raids; and by 880
the Anglian kingdoms of Northumbria, Mercia and East Anglia
had succumbed to the Danes. In Wessex, King Alfred had managed
to fend off the invaders, and had been recognised as king in what
remained of the kingdom of Mercia; indeed, he was described by
contemporaries in the later 880s, and in the 890s, as king “of the
Anglo-Saxons,” reflecting the emergence during these years of a
new polity, somewhere between the kingdom of the West Saxons
and the kingdom of the English. Alfred’s son Edward the Elder and
his grandson Æthelstan built upon these “Alfredian” foundations,
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taking the frontier up to the river Humber, in 920, and further
north to the river Tweed, in 927, in this process turning Alfred’s
kingdom “of the Anglo-Saxons” into Æthelstan’s kingdom “of the
English.” Needless to say, there were difficulties, and complications.
For the twenty years which followed the death of King Æthelstan,
in 939, little could be taken for granted; but the unified kingdom
of the English was re-established with the accession of King Edgar
in 959, and became more securely grounded in the 960s. A map
representing England, c. 1000, shows a basic distinction between
an area regarded as “English” and an area regarded as “Danish;”3
and while all manner of tensions and complications lurked beneath
the surface, the degree of political unity which had been achieved
by that time was impressive.
The “Spanish” analogy for Anglo-Saxon England in the tenth
century lies in part with the Christian kingdoms of northern
Spain, and in part with the caliphate of Córdoba in the south.4
A visitor coming from England would have passed from southwestern France into the territory of the kingdom of Pamplona/
Navarre (Collins 1999: 687–691, 2012: 205–213; for Catalonia, see
Zimmermann 1999: 440–449 and Jarrett 2010). The story of this
kingdom is told in terms of rulers who stand in a clear line of
succession from 905 onwards, though the written record is meagre.
It is interesting to note, at the same time, that the Benedictine
monastery at San Martín de Albelda, was founded apparently in the
early 920s by Sancho Garcés I (905–925), and became a centre of
some significance in the second half of the tenth century.5 Salvus,
3
Keynes 2001; a series of maps representing various stages in the development
of Anglo-Saxon England is available on the “Kemble” website (www.kemble.asnc.
cam.ac.uk).
4
For Spain in this period, see Kennedy 1996, Kennedy 1999, Collins 1999, and
Collins 2012, all with further references. For Catalonia, see Jarrett 2010 and
Collins 2012: 224–237. See also Gerli et al. 2013.
5
For the monastery at Albelda, see Bishko 1948, with Ubieto Arteta 1960.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
abbot of San Martín in the 950s, was important not only as an
author in his own right, but also through his pupils, who were
responsible for the production of the renowned “Codex Vigilanus
(Albeldensis),” written and illuminated at Albelda by the monk
Vigila, and others, in the mid-970s.6 A visitor from England might
travel further west from Pamplona/Navarre through the county of
Castile into the kingdom of León, perhaps reaching as far west
as Santiago de Compostela (Collins 1999: 670–687, 2012: 138–165
on León and 238–256 on Castile; for the charters, see also Collins
1990: 124–125). The written record is richer, providing a basis
for deeper understanding of dynastic complications, of driving
narratives (including interaction with the caliphate), and of the
operation of royal government. During the last two decades of the
tenth century, the Christian north was attacked frequently by the
forces of the caliphate of Córdoba, including the sack of León in
988 and the sack of Santiago de Compostela in 997;7 but in the early
eleventh century the caliphate itself began to collapse from within.
Sancho Garcés III “the Great” (1004–1035), ruler of the kingdom of
Navarre, was able to take advantage of the situation, extending his
power to east and west.
Further to the south lay the caliphate of Córdoba, under its
Umayyad rulers. Abd al-Rahman III was emir from 912 and caliph
of Córdoba from 929 until his death in 961 (Kennedy 1996: 87–99,
1999: 646–651; Collins 2012: 130–137 on the expansion of Córdoba
and 166–174 on Abd al-Rahman). He came to be renowned for his
patronage of learning, and for the development of firm institutions
of government; he was also the builder (from c. 936) of the great
palace complex at Madinat al-Zahra, about 8 kilometres west of
Córdoba, in the foothills of the Sierra Morena, commanding a
6
For the contents of the “Codex Vigilanus” (El Escorial, MS. Escurialensis d.I.2),
see Antolín 1910–1923: i.368–404; see also Díaz y Díaz 1979: 63–70.
7
See below, fn. 9.
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fine view south across the Guadalquivir valley.8 Abd al-Rahman
III’s son, al-Hakam II, caliph from 961 until his death in 976,
presided over a period of stability, and also proved to be an effective
and even an enlightened ruler; he is said to have accumulated a
library comprising many thousands of books, and to have written
a history of al-Andalus (Kennedy 1996: 99–106, 1999: 651–653;
see also Collins 1990: 110, 2012: 174–185, and 190–191 about the
library). Al-Hakam II was succeeded by his son, Hisham II, born
in 965 and caliph from 976 to 1009, and again from 1010 to 1013
(Collins 2012: 185–187, 189, and 199–201). Hisham was, however,
overshadowed by his ḥājib (Grand Vizier) Ibn Abi Amir, known
later as al-Mansur (“the Victorious”), and by other officers of state
(Kennedy 1996: 109–122 and Kennedy 1999: 653–656; Collins 2012:
185–195). It was al-Mansur who masterminded the aggressive policy
(jihād) adopted in the 980s and 990s towards the Christians in the
north, culminating with the sack of Santiago de Compostela in
997.9 He was also responsible for extending greatly the capacity
of the magnificent tenth-century mosque at Córdoba, and for the
construction of a new palace complex, at Madinat al-Zahra, east
of the city;10 the reconstructed remains of the caliphal baths, in
Córdoba, show modern tourists where more of the plotting and
scheming might have taken place. No less extraordinary are the
surviving objects from the period of the tenth-century caliphs,
including several closely associated with the caliphs themselves
(Holod 1992, with Dodds 1992: 190–213). At the same time a
8
On the building, destruction and rediscovery of Madinat al-Zahra, see Vallejo
Triano 1992 and 2005: 11–26.
9
For the campaigns of al-Mansur in the 980s and 990s, see Smith 1988: 76–79
and Melville & Ubaydli 1992: 56–59. See also Kennedy 1996: 109–122, Isla 2001
and Collins 2012: 191–194.
10
Dodds 1992a. The arches make their impact even (or perhaps especially) as
they survive incorporated within the later Christian cathedral, following the
“reconquest” of al-Andalus in the thirteenth century.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
Christian community continued to thrive at Córdoba in the later
tenth and early eleventh centuries,11 and is represented, for example,
by the funerary inscription for a 75-year-old woman, dated 1020,
from Haza de los Aguijones.12 Yet al-Mansur had also weakened
the prestige of the Umayyad dynasty itself; and in the eleventh
century the caliphate fragmented into taifas (Kennedy 1999: 656–
662; Collins 2012: 194–195, 201–204).
An historian of Anglo-Saxon England straying into this territory
notices much that is quite naturally or more strangely familiar,
whether in terms of the nature and quality of the available evidence
or in terms of the driving forces behind the unfolding patterns
of events. The physical remains of the tenth-century caliphate of
Córdoba which await the modern visitor to southern Spain are more
impressive than anything available for the tenth-century monarchy
in Anglo-Saxon England;13 but of course equivalent buildings do
not survive in the English context. In other respects, the AngloSaxonist feels almost at home. The position of Córdoba, with
its magnificent Roman bridge across the Guadalquivir river (and
Seville further downstream), evokes the particular significance of
London, and the river Thames, in the development of the kingdom
of the English in the tenth century. There are analogies for King
Æthelstan and King Edgar, for aspects of government, and for the
problems likely to arise when a youthful king came to the throne in
the aftermath of a period of strong rule, surrounded by older family
members, and holders of high office, all pressing their own interests.
Whether there was any direct contact between England and the
Iberian peninsula is of course a different matter. It may be that
11
On Christians in Córdoba, see Hitchcock 2008: 41–51.
12
The inscribed stone is on display in the Archaeological Museum at Seville. For
such inscriptions, see Collins 1990: 113–114.
13
The quality of the buildings and objects of the tenth and eleventh centuries
is well represented in Dodds 1992, which accompanied an exhibition held in that
year at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
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nothing of the kind is recorded for the later eighth, ninth and tenth
centuries; but that is not to say there was none. Trade routes by land
and sea connected one part of the European mainland to another,
and what applied to merchants going about their business applied
equally to pilgrims, envoys, outcasts, and brigands.14 Indirect routes
for the transmission of information from Spain to England, at high
levels, would have been via agencies in Germany or France, perhaps
in some cases meeting in Rome. In 953 John, monk of Gorze,
was sent by Otto I as an envoy to Abd al-Rahman III, and resided
at Córdoba for three years; John became abbot of Gorze in 960,
and died in 974.15 His story is inseparable from that of Recemund
(Rabi ibn Sid al-Usquf [the bishop]; see Christys 2002: 108–134,
Collins 2012: 92–93), a Christian (Mozarab) who served Abd alRahman III as secretary, who was sent as an envoy from Córdoba
to Ottonian Germany in the mid-950s, where he interacted with
Liudprand of Cremona, and who after his return to al-Andalus, as
bishop of Elvira, presented the “Calendar of Córdoba” to al-Hakam
II. Also in Germany, Hrotsvitha of Gandersheim (c. 935–c. 1002)
wrote the Passio S. Pelagii, about a ten-year-old boy from Galicia
who had been executed by order of Abd al-Rahman III in the
mid-920s.16 The Frenchman Gerbert, monk of Aurillac, studied
for a short time in Catalonia, where he learnt much from Atto,
Bishop of Vic, about mathematics and other branches of learning as
taught in Córdoba in the days of al-Hakam II; Gerbert served later
14
For the background, see McCormick 2001. In a late tenth-century Iranian
tract (Hudud al-‘alam), Britain is described as “an emporium of Rum and Spain,”
i.e. “the storehouse of goods from Byzantium (Rum) and Spain (al-Andalus),”
whatever that might mean; see Minorsky 1970: 8, 158. I am grateful to Rory
Naismith for drawing this reference to my attention.
15
For the primary account (Vita Iohannis abbatis Gorziensis, chs. 121–135), see
Smith 1988: 62–75 (text and translation). For further discussion, see Wormald
1988: 26–29, Hitchcock 2008: 41–47, and Collins 2012: 82–84.
16
On the development of the cult of St Pelagius of Córdoba, see Christys 2002:
94–101, with Collins 2012: 155.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
as tutor to Otto, son of the Emperor Otto I, and to the Emperor
Otto III, eventually succeeding Pope Gregory V as Sylvester II
(999–1003; Riché 1987; Guyotjeannin & Poulie 1996; Collins 2012:
136–137). Given connections of such kinds reaching from Germany
and France into Spain, and back, it is easy to imagine how stories
of the Christian kingdoms in the north, and of the caliphate in the
south, might have reached Anglo-Saxon England, perhaps in some
cases prompting a wish for direct contact and better information.17
Although one should not forget the example of John of Gorze,
one might expect any visitor from England in this period to
gravitate towards northern Spain. In this connection it would be
as well, therefore, to bear in mind the numismatic evidence. The
point of departure for a recently published survey of the coinage
of the Christian polities of the Iberian peninsula, across the whole
of the period from c. 1000 to c. 1500, is determined by the fact
that coin production did not start in Pamplona/Navarre until the
early eleventh century, and did not appear further west, in León/
Castile, until some time later.18 The authors look back at earlier
coinages which circulated in the peninsula, including Carolingian
issues as well as the gold dinars and silver dirhams minted in the
names of tenth-century caliphs of Córdoba; and it is clear that use
was made during this period, in the Christian kingdoms of the
north, of the gold and silver coinage of the caliphate.19 An English
visitor to northern Spain in the late tenth or early eleventh century,
accustomed to the well regulated coinage of his own country,
17
On England and Germany in the tenth century, see Keynes 2006: 83–84, with
references. The (Ottonian) Dowgate Hill brooch (British Museum), found (most
interestingly) in London, is symbolic of the same connections.
18
Crusafont et al. 2013: 15–16 (Pamplona/Navarre) and 16–17 (León/Castile). For
the earlier Visigothic coinages (to 714), see Grierson & Blackburn 1986: 39–54.
19
Crusafont et al. 2013: 6–8, 25. For the coinage of the caliphate, see Miles 1950,
Frochoso Sánchez 1996, and Canto García et al.: 2007. On caliphate dirhams, see
Cano Ávila & Martín Gómez 2004, 2009.
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might well have noticed the difference; he might also have noticed
the dirhams.
2 Silver pennies of King Æthelred found in the Pyrenees
The first object for special attention is a small parcel of AngloSaxon silver pennies, found at Puerto de Ibañeta, in the Pyrenees,
on the border between France and Spain. In 1934 some graves were
uncovered in the ruins of a medieval chapel at this place, which had
been destroyed by fire in 1884.20 One of the graves contained a group
of six pennies of Æthelred the Unready, king of the English from
978 to 1016. Three of the coins (Figures 1–3) are now in the MuseoTesoro de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles (nos. 842–844), and
featured in an exhibition of coinage from late antiquity to the early
middle ages held in the Museo de Navarra, Pamplona, in 2001;21
the others are now untraced.22 Five of the six coins were pennies
of King Æthelred’s so-called First Hand type, bearing on one side
an image of the king, identified as “Æthelred rex Anglorum,” and
on the other side a representation of the Hand of God, with the
letters Alpha and Omega to each side. The inscriptions on the
reverse reveal that two of the five First Hand pennies were minted
at London, one at Winchester, one at Totnes (in Devon, in the
south-west), and one at Exeter (also in Devon). The sixth was a
penny of King Æthelred’s so-called Second Hand type, which is
20
Mateu y Llopis 1950. The hoard is included in the list of hoards and single
finds, for Navarre, in Crusafont et al. 2013: 516.
21
Marot Salsas 2001: 72, with 329 (no. 77), illustrating the three coins in the
Museo-Tesoro de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles. See Figures 1-3.
22
The (supposedly Northumbrian) copper coin associated in some way with
the hoard (Mateu y Llopis 1950: 209; Mateu y Llopis & Dolley 1952: 89, fn. 2;
Crusafont et al. 2013: 516, recorded as a styca of King Eanred) does not appear to
survive. It is most unlikely that a ninth-century Northumbrian coin was associated
with the pennies of King Æthelred; and in its absence it must be left aside, as an
object of unidentified origin and unknown significance.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
very similar to First Hand, but with additional features on each
side; it too was minted at Exeter, in the south-west.
Figure 1: “First Hand” penny, Totnes
(Museo-Tesoro de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles, no. 843)
Silver pennies of King Æthelred, which survive in large numbers,
represent the products of a monetary system which had developed
during the course of the tenth century, in the unified kingdom
of the English, and which had been significantly reformed in the
early 970s, in the closing years of the reign of King Edgar (d. 975).
Some of the basic principles behind the new arrangements (such as
uniformity of design) must have been determined from the outset,
but aspects of its operation are likely to have been determined by
unfolding circumstances, as the years passed, allowing scope at all
times for modification and innovation. Edgar’s so-called Reform or
Small Cross type was introduced a couple of years before he died, and
was followed by what proved to be the sole, Small Cross, type of his
son Edward the Martyr, and by what is known as Æthelred’s First
Small Cross type (so-called to distinguish it from his later types
with similar designs). When a design or type was changed, dies for
coins of the new type were issued to the moneyers currently active
at some or all of the mints currently in operation, at much the same
time although not always simultaneously; and, after periods which
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Simon D. Keynes
proved during Æthelred’s reign to be of roughly six years, the type
already in use was replaced by a new type, with various differences.
The relative order of the successive types is well established, and
the changes of type can be dated quite closely; but it was a system
which was intended to serve the interests of those who controlled
it, and it is unlikely that they would have tied themselves to any
inflexible arrangements.23
Figure 2: “First Hand” penny, Winchester
(Museo-Tesoro de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles, no. 844)
The five pennies of the First Hand type found in the grave at Puerto
de Ibañeta would have circulated in England during the early to
mid-980s; the Second Hand type was introduced probably in the
mid-980s, so the presence of one Second Hand penny alongside the
five First Hand pennies suggests that the coins, as a group, came
together in the mid- or later 980s. The fact that two of the First
Hand pennies were minted in the south-west, at Totnes and at
Exeter, with two others from London and one from Winchester,
and the fact that the (newer) Second Hand penny was minted at
23
For one instance of such flexibility, arising from particular circumstances, see
Keynes & Naismith 2012: 196–201. For a significant reappraisal of the “reform”
of the coinage in the late tenth century, see Naismith forthcoming; for further
discussion, see Keynes forthcoming.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
Exeter, give the group a “south-western” identity. The coins do
not seem to have formed part of a larger treasure, generated by
commerce or by some other activity; rather, they seem to represent
a small and compact parcel of coins drawn from those circulating
in south-western England in the late tenth century, perhaps the
remaining contents of a purse carried by an Englishman who had
left south-western England at about this time (c. 990), made
his way southwards through France, and died while crossing the
Pyrenees from south-west France into north-eastern Spain (or on
his way back from Spain to England). Whatever the case (whether
coming or going), he died, and was buried alongside others in a
hospice of some kind by the side of the road.
Figure 3: “Second Hand” penny, Exeter
(Museo-Tesoro de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles, no. 845)
The hoard of silver pennies of King Æthelred the Unready, found
in a grave at Puerto de Ibañeta, is perhaps the earliest tangible
evidence for the presence of an Englishman in Spain. Yet one could
not fail to be impressed, at the same time, by the location of this
grave. It lies on one of the major routes between south-western
France and north-eastern Spain, which would have been used for
journeys of many kinds in both directions. If a traveller were to be
heading north-east, from Pamplona (for example) into France (and
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Simon D. Keynes
beyond), he would soon be climbing up into the Pyrenees. A high
point on one such crossing is Roncesvalles; and Puerto de Ibañeta,
where the hoard was found, lies a hundred metres higher up in the
mountains, a couple of kilometres further along the way from Spain
into France. It is of course an area with powerful associations. We
read in the Annales regni Francorum how Charlemagne led his army
into Spain, in 778, in order to assert his power across the border,
culminating with his attack on Pamplona and his subjugation of
the people;24 the story of the Basque ambush on the rearguard is
told in the “Revised” version of the annals, adding how it “shadowed
the king’s view of his success in Spain.”25 In his Life of Charlemagne,
Einhard describes the incident in greater detail, naming Roland,
“the lord of the Breton March,” among the dead.26 The place where
the action took place was named already in the eleventh century as
Roncesvalles; and the stories gave rise in due course to the Chanson
de Roland (McKitterick 2008: 134, 226, fn. 57).
The route across the pass at Ibañeta was used also by pilgrims
travelling from south-western France across the Pyrenees, and
further west into Spain, en route for the shrine of the apostle St
James the Greater at Santiago de Compostela. Following earlier
tradition (represented by Isidore), St James (brother of St John) had
been represented by Aldhelm of Malmesbury, in the early eighth
century, and by the compiler of the Old English Martyrology, in
the ninth century, as the apostle who had converted the men of
Spain to Christianity.27 The legend developed further in the ninth
24
For the Annales regni Francorum (ARF), see Scholz 1970, and McKitterick
2008: 24–56, with further references.
25
ARF 778, in Scholz 1970: 56–58 (with map).
26
Einhard, Vita Karoli, ch. 9, in Dutton 1998: 21–22; for allusions in the
Astronomer’s Life of Louis the Pious, see McKitterick 2008: 21, 26.
27
Aldhelm, Carmen Ecclesiasticum IV.iv, in Lapidge & Rosier 1985: 43, 52; Rauer
2013: 144–145, 275.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
century, especially in Spain, and must have been widely known.28
The first recorded pilgrim to Santiago de Compostela was Godescalc,
bishop of Le Puy-en-Velay (935–955; Bourbon 1965; LauransonRosaz 2004); and the evidence is of a kind which suggests another
dimension in our appreciation of the wider context. On his journey
through Spain, in 950, Bishop Godescalc commissioned Gómez,
monk of San Martín de Albelda, to make a copy of De perpetua
uirginitate Mariae contra tres infideles, by Ildefonsus of Toledo (d.
667). When Godescalc collected the book, on his journey back to
the Auvergne, in January 951, Gómez entered in it a detailed record
of the circumstances in which the book had been commissioned
and delivered.29 Albelda de Iregua lies just south of Logroño, where
the bishop might have joined the main route leading further west
to Santiago de Compostela; and we are reminded in this way that
pilgrims passed close to a religious house which in the tenth century
was one of the centres of Benedictine monasticism in northern
Spain. The monk Gómez, of San Martín de Albelda, produced the
book for Godescalc in 950–951; some years later, in the mid-970s,
the monks Vigila, Serracino and García, also of San Martín de
Albelda, produced the so-called Codex Vigilanus, with its images of
King Sancho Garcés II, his consort Urraca Fernández (d. 1007), and
his brother Ramiro, and with its extraordinary collection of texts.30
One can but assume that enthusiasm for the pilgrimage spread as
returning pilgrims passed on reports by word of mouth. In his life
of Abbo, abbot of Fleury, the monk Aimoin of Fleury mentions an
altar dedicated to St James [the Greater] among six which received
special attention there; on which basis it has been suggested that
Abbo felt particular devotion to James, and might even have visited
28
On the cult of St James, and the origins of pilgrimage to Santiago de
Compostela, see Fletcher 1984: 53–77, 78–101; see also Collins 2102: 112–118.
29
Paris, BN lat. 2855, fols. 69v–71r (facsimile online): printed in Delisle 1868: 516,
and in Díaz y Díaz 1979: 279–280 (Appendix I); see also Blanco García 1937: 11–13.
30
For the Codex Vigilanus, see above, fn. 6.
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Simon D. Keynes
the shrine at Santiago de Compostela.31 All that matters for present
purposes is that Compostela is known to have been a destination
for pilgrims already in the mid-tenth century; and the fact that
it was sacked by al-Mansur, in 997, and the bells taken back to
Córdoba, points in the same direction.32
The first person said to have travelled as a pilgrim from England
to Santiago de Compostela did so c. 1100 (Fletcher 1984: 96). The
first recorded instance of something cannot of course provide more
than a terminus ante quem for the beginning of whatever is at stake;
and, given the example of Bishop Godescalc, it may be that our
man from the west country was en route there, c. 990, or on his
way home, taking English participation back into the Anglo-Saxon
period.33 Like a modern pilgrim, setting out from France along the
“Way of St James,” he might have begun the final stage of the journey
at S. Jean Pied-de-Port, in the foothills of the Pyrenees, walking
(or riding) from there up into the mountains. After 20 kilometres
he would have skirted round a mountain top, and found himself in
the vicinity of what is now the chapel at Puerto Ibañeta (1,055m),
still about 600 kilometres short of Santiago de Compostela. The
person buried at Ibañeta might have been caught up in zeal “to
be a pilgrim;” or perhaps he been prompted to leave home by the
onset of viking raids, which had begun (or resumed) in the 980s.34
At the same time, one should not discount the possibility that the
31
Defourneaux 1949: 65, 66. For Aimoin’s Vita et passio sancti Abbonis, see Bautier
et al. 2004: 106 (ch. 15).
32
See above, fn. 9.
33
The small parcel of coins from Puerto de Ibañeta is included in Balaguer 1994:
30–36 (no. 2).
34
Mateu y Llopis & Dolley 1952 made the connection with the pilgrimage, but
then contemplated the rather wild notion (described as a “faint possibility”) that
the pilgrim was a Scandinavian, that his coins were part of the proceeds of raiding
in the late 980s or early 990s, and that he was now on his way to Spain to do battle
against the (Muslim) infidel.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
pilgrim was a priest, or a monk, and that advantage would be taken
of opportunities to visit other religious houses along the way.
3 A dirham of Hisham II (c. 1000) found at Cerne abbey
I turn now from the small parcel of silver pennies of King Æthelred
the Unready, found at Ibañeta, in north-eastern Spain, to a silver
dirham of Hisham II, caliph of Córdoba, and a contemporary of
King Æthelred, found at Cerne Abbas, in south-western England.
It was claimed in the early twelfth century that Cerne abbey,
in Dorset, had been founded by St Augustine in the early seventh
century, and that it was associated also with the hermit St Eadwold,
brother of Edmund, king of the East Angles (d. 869).35 The place
is better known today for the “Cerne Giant,” a large figure (180 feet
or 55 metres tall) of a naked man wielding a club, cut into the chalk
hillside overlooking the abbey. The figure is supposed by some to
have originated as a Romano-British representation of Hercules, in
which case it might follow that the abbey was founded in deliberately
close proximity to an ancient landmark of a particular kind; but if
simply the product of a seventeenth-century imagination, one would
be left with the possibility that the other associations (assuming
that they were recognised already in the tenth century) had been
enough to attract attention. It seems that a small religious house
was established at Cerne during the reign of King Edgar (959–975).36
It was associated from the outset, or soon came to be associated
in some way, with Æthelweard, ealdorman of the western shires,37
and his son Æthelmær. The former held high office during the
reigns of Edward the Martyr (975–978) and Æthelred the Unready
(978–1016); he is known above all for his Latin version of the
35
William of Malmesbury, Gesta pontificum Anglorum, ii.84 (Winterbottom &
Thomson 2007: i.290–292, ii.128).
36
For further details, see the entry for Cerne on the “Kemble” website (above, fn.
3), under “Archives;” see also Yorke 1988.
37
For this style, see Sawyer 1968: no. 891, with Keynes 2013: 116–118.
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Simon D. Keynes
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, and died c. 998 (Gretsch 2013: 205–209).
Æthelmær was conspicuous among those attending royal assemblies
from the late 980s until c. 1005, when he appears to have “retired”
to Eynsham abbey in Oxfordshire; he emerges again into view as
ealdorman in the south-west, during the closing years of Æthelred’s
reign.38 At Æthelmær’s request, and with the approval of Ælfheah,
bishop of Winchester (984–1006), Ælfric, a monk and mass-priest
of Winchester, was sent from Winchester to Cerne (probably to act
there as master of the school).39 Ælfric seems to have remained at
Cerne for several years (which is to say that he is not known to
have been based anywhere else), though no doubt he would have
maintained other connections.40 It is thus presumed to have been at
Cerne that Ælfric wrote the two series of his “Catholic Homilies,”
dedicated to Archbishop Sigeric (990–994), and at Cerne too that
he wrote his “Lives of the Saints,” for Æthelmær and for his father
Ealdorman Æthelweard.41 In or soon after 1005 Ælfric was appointed
abbot of the abbey which Æthelmær had founded at Eynsham; and
he was active there for another five or ten years (Keynes 2007: 160–
170, Keynes 2009). Cerne abbey was thus the place where, across the
15-year period from c. 990 to c. 1005, Ælfric lived his religious life,
absorbed the contents of the books in his library, and transmitted his
learning through his own teaching and writings; and it is this, quite
simply, that gives anything which can be associated with Cerne,
during this period, an interest of its own.
38
For Æthelweard and Æthelmær, see Keynes 1980: 191–192, with Keynes 2002,
available online on the “Kemble” website, Tables LXII (ealdormen) and LXIII
(thegns), and Keynes 2009: 451–454; see also Cubitt 2009: 171–184.
39
For Ælfric’s statement to this effect, see Clemoes 1997: 174, with Godden 2000:
xxix–xxxvi and 4–5.
40
For Ælfric’s career, see Wilcox 1994: 2–15 and Godden 2004 and 2014. For the
context in Dorset, see Hall 2000, Wilcox 2005.
41
For further discussion, see Gneuss 2009: 6, Hill 2009: 51–60, and Gretsch
2013: 205–209.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
As we have seen, Ælfric had been sent from Winchester to
Cerne, at Æthelmær’s request, some time between mid-October
984 (when Ælfheah became bishop of Winchester) and late October
994 (when Archbishop Sigeric died). The record of the abbey’s
property tempore regis Eadwardi (1066) and tempore regis Willelmi
(1086), provided in Domesday Book, provides good evidence of the
development of the abbey’s endowment across the first hundred
years of its existence. In a league-table of religious houses in Dorset,
Cerne was second only to Shaftesbury, and comfortably ahead of
the other houses at Milton, Abbotsbury, Sherborne, Cranborne
and Horton (Knowles 1963: 702–703; Hill 1981: 154). Important
evidence bearing on the composition of the community at Cerne
in the late 980s and early 990s is provided by a manuscript of the
“First Series” of Ælfric’s “Catholic Homilies,” arguably written
there c. 990;42 but the documentary evidence is meagre. The
abbey’s endowment by 1066 amounted to a total of more than 120
hides; on which basis one might have hoped to find a considerable
number of royal diplomas preserved among the abbey’s muniments,
as title-deeds for its separate estates, perhaps complemented
by some vernacular records. The only surviving charter relating
to Cerne abbey before Domesday Book (1086) is a text, copied
probably from a single sheet into the thirteenth-century Cartae
Antiquae Rolls, which purports to record the abbey’s foundation
and endowment.43 It is dated 987, and takes the form of a record,
in Latin, of a declaration by Æthelmær, son of Æthelweard, and
thegn (satrapa) of King Æthelred, by which he made known to the
king, and to Archbishop Dunstan, Bishop Ælfheah, the bishops
42
BL Royal 7 C XII. For the palaeographical and linguistic evidence, see Scragg
2012 and 2014: 145.
43
Kew, National Archives, C 52/21, no. 16, registered in Sawyer 1968: no. 1217. It
is not clear in what circumstances or for what purpose a copy of this charter was
enrolled among the Cartae Antiquae Rolls (Kew, NA, C 52); see further below,
fn. 45.
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Simon D. Keynes
and all the “wise men” (sapientiae) of the English people, that he
had founded and endowed the monastery at Cerne (Cernel) for the
king, himself, “and for the beloved soul of my father” (pro dilecta
mihi animula mei genitoris), as best he could;44 and that a few years
later he had increased the endowment with other lands, including
the reversion (after his days) of the estate (uilla) of Cerne itself,
the reversion of the estate (uilla) at Esher (Æscere), as well as (with
immediate effect) four other estates. Although it is quite likely
that the person who created this charter had access to genuine
pre-Conquest material, in Latin and in the vernacular, it is hard
to believe that it existed in this form in the late tenth century.
Perhaps, having fastened on a credible date (987), a later monk
of Cerne fabricated a text which looked back from that date to
an earlier period, and for good measure incorporated some other
(perhaps later) acquisitions, in order to provide the abbey with its
own charter of foundation. It is possible that the act of fabrication
arose from the abbey’s particular interest in land at Esher, Surrey;45
it is also possible that the charter was the product of a wish or need
at Cerne to establish its historical identity with help from records
found among its ancient muniments.
We may pass over the abbey’s history in the middle ages.46 If
only to judge from the testimony of a disaffected monk of Cerne, in
44
Compare Æthelmær’s vernacular declaration to the royal assembly in 1005,
embedded in the diploma for Eynsham abbey; see Keynes 2009: 461–462.
45
Ealdorman Æthelweard had granted an estate of 20 hides at Esher to his son
Æthelmær, who gave it to Eynsham, together with the adjacent estate at Thames
Ditton; Keynes 2009: 472–473. The estates were not retained by Eynsham, and
part of Esher was given by William I to the abbot of La Croix-Saint-Leufroy (as
recorded in Domesday Book). Cerne abbey’s residual interest in Esher emerges
from the Curia Regis rolls for 1219–1220, which show that the abbot attempted
to recover land at Esher from the abbot of La Croix-Saint-Leufroy, apparently
without result.
46
For an account of Cerne abbey, see Page 1908: 53–58. See also Vale & Vale
2000: 15–25.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
1535, the abbey deserved the fate it suffered in 1539 (see Bettey 1988).
The site was allowed thereafter to fall into disrepair, and was soon
being plundered for building materials. Early in the 18th century
the site passed into the hands of the Pitt family, of Stratfield Saye,
in Hampshire.47 Little now remains of the abbey itself. The main
buildings stood just north of the present village (Cerne Abbas), on
the eastern part of the present churchyard, which is itself detached
from and to the north of the fourteenth-century parish church
of St Mary. In other words, the abbey lay at the foot of “Giant
Hill,” in apparent association of some kind with the unexplained
earthworks immediately north and east of the site. By the middle
of the eighteenth century, the surviving remains comprised a porch
to the Abbot’s Hall (c. 1500), a fifteenth-century building known
as the “Guest House” (which when first built might have been an
earlier Abbot’s Hall), and a fifteenth-century barn further north.
Another prominent building on the site of the abbey, formerly
known as the Abbey House or Abbey Farm (now the “Manor
House”), incorporates some older fabric which might once have
been part of the abbey gatehouse. A fourteenth-century tithe barn,
long since restored and converted to domestic use, stands some
distance to the south-west of the main abbey site.48
It is often the case that useful information on the fate of an
ancient abbey, and of its buildings, treasures, books, estates, and
muniments, in the period from the dissolution of the monasteries
in the late 1530s to the mid-nineteenth century, can be recovered
from the writings of antiquaries active in the early modern period.
47
The Pitt-Rivers family estate archive is accessible in Dorchester, Dorset History
Centre (D-PIT). It includes D-PIT/P/5 (map of Cerne in 1768) and D-PIT/P/6
(map of Cerne in 1798), both of which are available online. The site was sold by the
Pitt-Rivers family in 1919, and changed hands again in 1937. It belongs now to the
Barons Digby, of Minterne House, Minterne Magna, just north of Cerne Abbas.
48
For an authoritative description of the abbey site, and the standing remains, see
Royal Commission on Historical Monuments 1952: 74–85 (“Cerne Abbas”), with
maps and plans; see also Vale & Vale 2000: 23–25 (with illustrations).
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Simon D. Keynes
Much of their work is readily available in the books they published;
and more is to be found among their surviving papers, now widely
dispersed. The natural points of departure are the county-bycounty surveys in Camden’s Britannia, published (in Latin) from
1586, and available in English translation from 1610.49 This great
work led in turn to the more detailed county histories which
began to proliferate in the seventeenth century, and also to expand.
Dorset received close attention in the mid-eighteenth century from
the antiquary John Hutchins (1698–1773).50 Hutchins’s work was
taken forward by Richard Gough (1735–1809);51 and in his role as
editor of Hutchins, Gough became part of the research network
which had the printer-publisher John Nichols (1745–1826) at its
centre.52 In the 1760s Hutchins was gathering material for his
History of Dorset, and recorded for these purposes what was to be
seen at Cerne. “Of the conventual church there is not the least
remains. It is supposed to have stood E of the abby House, perhaps
parallel with the church yard.” He refers also to “a broken stone,
no doubt brought hither out of the abby church, which serves for
a step,” which carried an incomplete inscription referring to the
last abbot.53 Hutchins died on 21 June 1773; at which point Gough
49
For William Camden (1551–1623), and his Britannia, see Herendeen 2007, and
his entry on Camden in ODNB 2004 (online); see also Keynes 2014.
50
Bettey 1994; Sweet 2004; and Bettey’s entry on Hutchins in ODNB 2004
(online).
51
See Sweet’s entry on Gough, in ODNB 2004 (online), and the several papers
“In Celebration of Richard Gough (1735–1809),” in Bodleian Library Record 22.2
(2009).
52
For collaboration between Gough and Nichols on Dorset, see Pooley 2009,
esp. 144 and 146.
53
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Gough Dorset 8 (SC 17874), pp. 67–77. There
are some drawings and engravings of Cerne (1769, 1793) in Oxford, Bodleian
Library, Gough Maps 6 (Dorset) (SC 17503), reflecting interest in the abbey
buildings as well as in the giant.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
took over and saw the History through its final stages. The account
of Cerne in the first edition, largely if not entirely the work of
Hutchins himself, does not contain any suggestion that there had
been recent digging or building operations on the site, and one
imagines that it was based on his own observations.54 In the later
1770s and early 1780s Gough worked on an edition of Camden’s
Britannia, translated from the Latin edition published in 1607,
but substantially augmented for each county by his own additions.
Gough’s manuscript, as prepared for the printer, survives in three
large volumes,55 and the edition itself was published in 1789. In
his account of Cerne, Gough remarks that “all its remains are a
gateway and a noble stone barn,” and like Hutchins he says nothing
of recent finds.56
The accounts of Cerne Abbas published in 1774 (Hutchins/
Gough) and 1789 (Camden/Gough) suggest, albeit only in their
silence, that digging and salvaging operations on the site of the
medieval abbey (presumably for building materials) had not made
much of an impact there in the 1770s and 1780s. A different
impression emerges from subsequent editions of these works,
suggesting that digging at Cerne intensified in the 1790s. Gough
inserted additions and notes of various kinds in his own copy of
the 1789 edition of Camden’s Britannia, in ways which suggest
that he was actively engaged in a fairly random process over an
extended period; though there is no obvious sign here of incoming
information on Cerne.57 However, a sentence added by Gough in
the edition of Britannia published in 1806 refers explicitly to recent
digging on the abbey site: “All its remains are a gateway and a noble
54
Hutchins 1774: ii.286–296 (Cerne). Gough’s copy of this work, in Oxford,
Bodleian Library, Gough Dorset 3–4 (SC 17906–7), contains his occasional notes,
as well as some accounts; but nothing useful for present purposes.
55
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MSS. Gough Gen. Top. 34–6 (SC 17623–5).
56
Camden ed. Gough 1789: i.50.
57
Oxford, Bodleian Library, Gough Gen. Top. 372–3 (SC 17675–6).
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stone barn. Some defaced monuments of abbots were lately dug up
in the site of the monastic church.”58 By this time Gough was in fact
also engaged on the production of a second revised and augmented
edition of Hutchins’s History of Dorset.59 In this case, a large amount
of material relating directly to the making of the new edition has
survived, including four volumes of Gough’s correspondence in the
Bodleian Library,60 and other material now in the library of the
Dorset County Museum, Dorchester.61 There is so much, indeed,
that one can but wait to see what it might reveal, in detail, about
the ways in which information came to Gough about various places
in Dorset. By May 1806 the sheets which included Cerne, in the
third volume of the second edition, were already being circulated
for comment,62 and by early February 1808 the printing of the
volume as a whole was nearly finished. Alas, however, the entire
stock, save only the one copy already in the author’s hands, was
destroyed in the fire which ravaged Nichols’s printing office and
58
Camden ed. Gough et al. 1806: i. 68.
59
For Hutchins’s work on the second edition, see Douch 1973: xiii; see also
below, fn. 64.
60
The three volumes of Gough’s general correspondence for the second edition,
including his draft replies, are Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Top. Dorset
d. 3 (SC 53893) [A–C]; MS. Top. Gen. d. 3 (SC 25533) [D–O], not including
Nichols; and MS. Top. Dorset d. 4 (SC 53894) [P–Y]. Another volume, containing
correspondence between Gough and his son-in-law, Gen. Bellasis, about
Hutchins’s Dorset, is MS. Gough Gen. Top. 42 (SC 47263).
61
The items in the Dorset County Museum Library include the only surviving
copy (Gough’s own) of the first printing of what was to be the third volume of
the second edition of Hutchins, which escaped the fire at the printer’s works on 8
February 1808 (below, fn. 63). I am grateful to the museum staff for their responses
to my queries (e-mail, 3 July 2014).
62
Letter from the clergyman-antiquary Thomas Rackett to Richard Gough,
26 May 1806 (Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Top. Gen. d. 3 (SC 25533), fol.
152).
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
warehouse on 8 February 1808, and it was not until 1813 that the
volume was reconstructed, printed and published.63
Richard Gough’s account of Cerne, written presumably c. 1805
and known in the form as published in 1813, contains a tantalizing
account of the various traces of the medieval abbey which had
come to light during operations of one kind or another over a
period of years, perhaps especially since 1790.64 The “monuments
of two abbots” had been dug up in the abbey ruins, and were laid
across a ditch. Other fragments of monuments had been dug up at
various times in the churchyard and the adjoining field. In 1790, or
thereabouts, when men were digging in the field, the remains of
a “sepulchral chapel or shrine” were found at the west end of the
church, over what seemed to be a woman’s grave; nearby were some
coffins “with effigies of monks,” which were left alone. Fragments
of monuments had been found frequently “near the centre of the
present churchyard” (of the parish church); the south transept of
the abbey was presumed to have been nearby. A “pavement of fine
glazed figured tiles,” now covered with turf, lay in the north-east
corner of the churchyard, thought to be the floor of a chapel at
the east end of the old church. Various stone fragments “which
must have been brought over from the abbey” could be recognised
in the town. The “deepest foundations” of the abbey incorporated
the remains of “a former handsome building;” a hoard of “large
irregularly formed pieces (of gold)” had been found c. 1740 in
63
In his account of the fire in the Gentleman’s Magazine, for February 1808, pp.
99–100, Nicholas lists the concluding volume of Hutchins’s Dorset first among the
volumes then in the press, and describes it as “nearly finished.”
64
Hutchins 1796–1815: iii.314–315. Substantially the same text was used many years
later in Hutchins 1861–1873: iv.27, with necessary modifications. For example, the
phrases “and now laid across a ditch” and “was lately dug up” in the 2nd edition
(1808/1813) were changed in the 3rd edition (1873) to “in 1810 laid across a ditch”
or “dug up about 1810;” but a significant use of the phrase “about 20 years ago,” in
the 2nd edition (referring to c. 1790), was left as it was, creating a false impression
that there had been further digging in the 1850s.
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an old abbey wall; and a seal of the abbey “was lately dug up” in
a garden. The use of the ground as the parish cemetery would
impede or prevent further investigation, leaving one largely reliant
on this account. It is likely, however, that some of the special
objects found at Cerne in the late eighteenth and first half of the
nineteenth centuries would have remained on the site. Some might
have passed into the collection formed before 1884 by General FoxPitt-Rivers (1827–1900), and may be lurking to this day in the PittRivers Museum, at Oxford; other objects, certainly from Cerne,
including two medieval stone carvings and six tiles, are registered
and illustrated in the catalogue of General Pitt-Rivers’s “second”
collection, formed in the later 1880s and 1890s, and were displayed
in the Pitt-Rivers Museum at Farnham, Dorset (Bowden 1991).65
What, then, of the dirham from Cerne? It would appear that
John Nichols had mentioned it in conversation with, or in a letter
to, Richard Gough, probably in May 1806. For in a supplementary
response, dated 30 May, Gough remarks: “I forgot to say that if you
could convey the Silver coin you mention at Cerne in any safe way
by Mr Penny or any other hand I will return it the same way.”66
Assuming that the dirham and the silver coin were one and the
same, it is clear that Gough appreciated its importance. It may
be, however, that it had come to light too late for inclusion in the
account of Cerne in the second edition of Hutchins, and might
anyway have been considered worthy of more detailed discussion
than would be appropriate in that context. In due course Gough
65
The catalogue of the Farnham collection is Cambridge, University Library,
MS Add. 9455/1–9, on which see Thompson & Renfrew 1999. For the items from
Cerne, see Add. 9455/2, p. 337 (two stone carvings and six tiles), dated 22 Sept.
1887. In 1975 the “Wessex collections” from the Pitt-Rivers museum at Farnham
were given by HM Treasury to the Salisbury and South Wiltshire Museum; items
from the collection are displayed in the archaeology galleries which opened there
in July 2014.
66
Letter from Gough to Nichols, 30 May 1806, cited here from the database of
the Nichols Archives Project. I owe this reference to the kindness of Julian Pooley.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
addressed a formal report to Nichols, in his capacity as editor of
The Gentleman’s Magazine, dated 1 September [1807].67
Mr. Urban,
Sept. 1 [1807]
The coin (Fig. 10) was found in the ruins of Cerne Abbey,
Dorset. It has a very fair legend on both sides; and, by a ring
of silver-wire affixed to it, seems to have been used as an
amulet by some person with whom it was probably interred.
The legend is on one side of the area the usual symbol of
There is one God. On the margin of the same side: “In the
name of God this drachm was struck at Andalusea (Cordovia)
in the year (A. H.) 320” (rather doubtful). On the area of the
reverse: “Munwaya Billah, Emperor of the Faithful,” with a
continuation of the symbol; in the margin, “Mohammed is
the Prophet of God,” &c.
Yours, &c. D. H.
It was common practice for letters of antiquarian import to be
addressed in this way to the editor of the Gentleman’s Magazine;68
and in this instance the initials “D. H.” are known to signify RicharD
GougH.69 The letter as published was accompanied by an engraving
of a drawing which showed both sides of the coin (see Figure 4). It
must have been known, in late 1807, that the third volume of the
second edition, containing the account of Cerne Abbas, would be
published in 1808; so it may be that the dirham had only recently
come to light, and that Gough thought it sufficiently interesting to
draw attention to its existence separately. Clearly, much might turn
67
Gentleman’s Magazine 77 (1807), pt ii, p. 916, with engraved plate (p. 913). It
would be interesting to find the original letter, and with it the original drawing;
but my search has not yet produced the desired result.
68
The second volume of Gough’s correspondence (above, n. 81) contains a letter
from “HD,” dated 15 September 1796, apprising “Mr Urban” of a Roman coin,
which is illustrated, found at Frampton, Dorset, and asking readers for “any
information relative to its date.”
69
For Gough’s numerous contributions to the Gentleman’s Magazine, see Kuist
1982: 64–74.
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Simon D. Keynes
on the exchange in May 1806, if only the letters and any associated
documentation could be found.
Figure 4. Cerne Abbas dirham of Hisham II (389 AH, 998–999 AD)
from the Gentleman’s Magazine (October, 1807)
Unfortunately, the dirham itself is not known to exist. If by any
chance it passed into Gough’s own collection, it is not visible in the
catalogue of his “museum,” sold at auction in July 1810;70 nor has it
been identified in any of the major collections in London, Oxford
or Cambridge. One can but hope, therefore, that it might yet be
found in one or other of the two Pitt-Rivers collections, in Oxford
or Salisbury.71 The dirham is readily identified, however, on the
basis of Gough’s engraving, as a silver dirham of Hisham II.72 On
the obverse, the inscription in the three lines of the central field
is an expression of Islamic faith; the inscription in the outer circle
specifies the mint (al-Andalus) and the year in the Islamic calendar
70
Museum Goughianum: a Catalogue of the Collection of Prints, Drawings, Coins,
Medals, Seals, Painted Glass, etc., of R. Gough, Sotheby’s sale catalogue, 19 July 1810
(London, 1810).
71
See above, fn. 47.
72
Miles 1950, and Frochoso Sánchez 1996: 82–84 (dirhams of AH 389–390). See
also Canto García et al. 2007.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
(Anno Hegirae). On the reverse, the inscription in the three lines of
the central field identifies the caliph; the inscription in the outer
circle is a further expression of faith. The date on the obverse was
read by Gough, in 1807, as AH 320, though he considered his
reading “rather doubtful.” The date was read by Dr John Walker,
for Michael Dolley, in 1957, as AH 390 (Dolley 1957: 242). The
coin (as depicted in Gough’s engraving) has been re-examined for
present purposes by Professor Pedro Cano Ávila, of the University
of Seville; and the date is read by him as AH 389 [Friday 23 Dec.
998–Tuesday 12 Dec. 999].73 The dirham was said by Gough to
have “a ring of silver-wire affixed to it,” suggesting (to him) that
it had been used as an amulet by its owner. In other words, it
seems that the coin had been pierced, and that a wire had been run
through the hole (or holes) so that the coin could be mounted or
suspended in some way for a decorative purpose.
Figure 5: A dirham of Hisham II (Private Collection), similar in type and date (AH 390,
999–1000 AD) to the one found at Cerne abbey (known only from the engraving in Figure 4)
73
I am most grateful to Professor Cano Ávila for confirming the identification of
the coin from Cerne, on the basis of the engraving published in the Gentleman’s
Magazine, as a dirham of Hisham II (AH 389), citing Frochoso Sánchez 1996: 198
(389.38 d).
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A set of ten dirhams of al-Hakam II and Hisham II, each of which
is pierced twice, apparently for attachment to a headband, formed
part of the early eleventh-century hoard of precious objects found
at Lorca, Murcia, in the nineteenth century (now in the Victoria
and Albert Museum, London; Gómez-Moreno 1951: 338–341;
see Figure 5). Piercing indicates that a dirham was being used
for a purpose other than currency; and on the evidence of this
hoard it was practised in Spain, and perhaps imitated as well. So
what might the presence of this coin at Cerne signify? Although
Gough made no reference to the coin in his account of Cerne,
as published in 1813, it is reassuring to know that it had come to
light in the context of the serious and well informed interest taken
by a distinguished antiquary in the site of the medieval abbey. It
could have been found anywhere on the site of the abbey, dropped
by accident by its original owner rather than buried with him in
the abbey’s cemetery; for while Gough might have been told that
it had been found in the graveyard, he says no more than that it
might have been used as an amulet by the person with whom it
was “probably interred.” The problem is, of course, that one has
no idea for how many years the dirham had circulated in Spain, or
in what circumstances it came to England; nor could one hope to
know for how long it remained above ground in England, before
it came to be lost or buried at Cerne. The great majority of the
Arabic or “Kufic” coins found in Anglo-Saxon England are of
the Abbasid dynasty, coming ultimately from the eastern Islamic
empire; it is altogether more unusual to find an Umayyad dirham
among them, from al-Andalus.74 A famous gold coin of Offa, king
of the Mercians (757–796), seems to have been modelled on an
Abbasid dinar of AH 157 (AD 773–774), which probably owed its
presence in south-eastern England to commerce (Chick 2010:
55 (Type 1 a), with Naismith 2010). The presence of eighth- and
74
For a survey of this material, see Scarfe Beckett 2003: 54–59, extended, in
greater depth and detail, by Naismith 2005.
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
ninth-century Arabic coins in England, including one from Spain
found at Hamwic (Southampton) and another from Spain found
among a significantly larger number of Abbasid dirhams in the
Cuerdale hoard, is attributed to the agency of Scandinavians (in
their various capacities).75 However, the Umayyad element in coinhoards deposited in Scandinavia and eastern Europe increases in the
late tenth century (c. 1000), a phenomenon attributed to renewed
or increased involvement of Scandinavians in their particular brand
of aggravated commerce.76 The dirham found at Cerne, which is
in fact the only coin of the tenth-century caliphate of Córdoba
found in England, seems to be included in this picture as if it
were evidence of the same kind, and is thus interpreted, with those
found in Scandinavia and elsewhere, in terms of the same forms
of activity, in the late tenth century, leading from the Iberian
peninsula to Germany, England, and Scandinavia.77
It is arguable, however, that the dirham from Cerne should be
regarded as a different and special case.78 Its interest lies only in
part in the fact that it is an Umayyad dirham from al-Andalus,
of a certain date (c. 1000), found in England; it lies also in the
circumstance that it would appear to have found, as a singleton, in
the graveyard of the religious house at Cerne, in Dorset, and thus
in a context which separates it from vikings, or from major trade
75
For the former, see Brown 1988. For the latter, see Lowick 1976: 21–22 and
24–25, with Warhurst 1982, no. 1108.
76
Linder Welin 1965; Noonan 1980; Barceló 1983: 11–14; Kromann 1988, with
discussion of the Heligholmen hoard at 246–247; Mikolajczyk 1988: 262.
77
The early work by Linder Welin, cited in Dolley 1957, led to her own publication
in 1965, which was itself followed by various other publications in the 1980s.
78
I follow Naismith 2005: 207–208, 209, who suggests that the dirham from
Cerne (no. 31 in his list) might represent a souvenir of travel through Frankia
to Spain, possibly to Santiago de Compostela, adding that “single finds from
southern and western England are less likely to represent Viking activity,” and that
the “rarity, value and difference” of Islamic coins may have made them “objects of
wonder as much as objects of value.”
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routes, and associates it with something altogether more distinctive.
Perhaps, for the sake of argument, we may be allowed to pursue
a line of wishful thought. A visitor to Spain from elsewhere in
Europe would notice the Islamic coins, which were so completely
different in appearance from anything with which he was familiar.
He would have no idea how to read the inscriptions, but might be
curious enough to ask; and it would have come as no surprise to
be told that they were suffused with expressions or statements of
religious import. It may be that on his return, knowing his dirhams
to have been been minted in Córdoba, he had one of them pierced
and mounted, perhaps in such a way that it could be suspended
around his neck, to remind himself of what he had seen, or perhaps
to indicate to others that he had been far afield. The crucial point,
of course, is that the dirham was found, whether loose or buried,
at an abbey which at precisely this time, through its association
with Ælfric, was enjoying its moment of glory. A person who had
set off in the late 990s from England through France into Spain,
might have gone there on pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela,
or to see for himself the splendours of Córdoba, in response to
reports which were coming to England from France and Germany.
It is conceivable, for example, that a monk or priest from Cerne, or
a layman associated in some way with the abbey, travelled to Spain,
c. 1000; that he picked up a dirham of Hisham II in the north of
Spain, perhaps while engaged for his own part (like others) in an
act of pilgrimage, or that he ventured south into al-Andalus, and
picked one up there; and that he returned home safely to Cerne,
with the dirham in his pocket or still displayed around his wrist or
neck. Ælfric of Cerne is not known to have travelled overseas, at
any point in his career, though it would be as well (albeit on slender
evidence) to allow the possibility that he might have done so. A
passage inserted by Ælfric into his homily for the First Sunday after
Easter has been interpreted as evidence that he might once have
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
seen silkworms, in Italy;79 and if silkworms had spread to places
other than Italy, before the end of the tenth century, the passage
might also point elsewhere.80 At another point in the same inserted
passage, Ælfric remarks, drawing again (so it would seem) on his
own experience, that he would not wish to travel across land, or
ride to hirede (perhaps to another monastery, or back to his own,
or conceivably to the royal court), without knowing where he could
stay on the way.81 If Ælfric was not as stationary as one might
suppose, his example might serve as a symbolic reminder that
others in his circle might have had occasion to venture abroad, for
one purpose or another. The owner of the dirham of Hisham II is
most likely, anyway, to have been a man who once visited, lived near
or was buried at Cerne, perhaps as a member of the local society
in this part of Dorset, or a member of the monastic community;
and in either case, the dirham might casually or deliberately have
identified its owner as one who had journeyed to Spain.
4 Widening horizons
The two pieces of evidence discussed above contribute usefully
to our understanding of the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
(978–1016). The small parcel of King Æthelred’s “Hand” pennies
79
The suggestion was made by J. C. Pope, cited by Gatch 1977: 86–88, 229, fn.
9. For the passage in question, see Clemoes 1997: 533–535, with Godden 2000:
134–135. I am grateful to Professor Godden for enlarging on his allusions to this
passage (Godden 2014: 210, and ODNB), and for further discussion.
80
For sericulture, see McCormick 2001: 723, fn. 127. According to accounts
of sericulture on the internet, the main silk-producing centre in tenth-century
Europe was Andalusia.
81
Clemoes 1997: 535, with Gatch 1977: 88 (monastery), and Godden 2000:
135 (royal court, or assembly). It is tempting for a historian to prefer Godden’s
suggestion, that Ælfric envisaged travel to a royal assembly (whether as abbot of
Eynsham or, before that, as a prominent member of the community at Cerne); but
one has to allow that Gatch’s interpretation is also credible. For royal assemblies,
see Keynes 2013: 33–38, 140–157, and Roach 2013: 45–76.
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found in a burial in an old chapel at Puerto de Ibañeta provides
evidence of an Englishman, perhaps from one or other of the
“western provinces” of England, under the control of Ealdorman
Æthelweard, who passed through southern France into northern
Spain in about the year 990, bound quite possibly for the shrine of
St James at Santiago de Compostela; but he seems not to have made
it home. For its part, the “ringed” dirham of Hisham II (c. 1000),
caliph of Córdoba, found in the early nineteenth century at Cerne,
in Dorset, is most naturally understood, in its particular context,
as an object brought back to the south-west among the effects of
another Englishman who had been travelling in Spain, whether in
the Christian north or in the Muslim south; who returned; and
who was perhaps buried in the graveyard of a small religious house
at Cerne, in the opening years of the eleventh century.
The two finds do not constitute evidence of direct contact
between King Æthelred the Unready, on the one hand, and
his counterparts in the Iberian peninsula (whether Christian
or Muslim), on the other. Far from it. They are, however, the
equivalent for historical purposes of two annals in an imaginary
manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. One might have recorded
how in 990 a man from the western shires set out on a pilgrimage
to Spain, but did not return; another might have recorded how,
in 1005, some other man, renowned for a successful expedition to
distant lands, died, and was buried at Cerne abbey. Such evidence
would have attracted far greater attention, and would have been of
its nature much easier to handle. One might be inclined to say of
such written evidence that the information was recorded because
it was exceptional; so there is a sense in which the numismatic
evidence is more compelling, especially when the two finds are
taken in combination. One person apparently from south-western
England is known to have been to Spain in the late tenth century,
but did not return, and another person from south-western
England, who may be presumed to have been to Spain in the early
eleventh century, is known to have returned. We could not be so
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England and Spain during the reign of King Æthelred the Unready
lucky as to have found evidence of two special cases; so there must
have been others like them. It is then up to the historian to press
the evidence as far as it might be considered reasonable to go, and
to speculate further. There was movement between England and
Spain in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries, just as there
was movement between England and other parts of the continental
European mainland. Some of the traffic might have arisen from the
development of pilgrimage to the shrine of St James the Apostle,
at Compostela, as an undertaking to set beside pilgrimage to the
shrine of St Peter the Apostle at Rome. Some of it might have
brought contact of some kind between members or representatives
of religious houses in England and their counterparts in Spain, at
places like San Martín de Albelda. The small parcel of pennies
found at Puerto de Ibañeta is enough to show that the English
have been visiting Spain, as pilgrims if not as holiday makers, for at
least a thousand years; the dirham found apparently in a graveyard
at Cerne abbey could be seen in the same context, suggestive of a
pilgrim who returned, or it could be pressed further, suggestive of
overseas contact leading to the circle of one of the most learned
men of his day.
Simon D. Keynes
University of Cambridge
Acknowledgements
Earlier versions of this paper were given at the University of Seville,
21 March 2012, and at SELIM XXV, University of Córdoba, 12
December 2013. I should like to thank Mercedes Salvador Bello
for organizing the seminar in Seville and for her good offices as
co-editor of SELIM (Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua
y Literatura Inglesa Medieval). I should like also to thank Prof.
Dr. Javier Martín Párraga, of the University of Córdoba, Professor
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Simon D. Keynes
Pedro Cano Ávila, of the University of Seville, Mercedes Jover
Hernando, director of the Museo de Navarra, and Ricardo Ros
Arrogante, author of the Catálogo general de la moneda de Navarra,
Siglos II a.C. al XIX d.C. Photos of the Anglo-Saxon coins are
courtesy of the Museo-Tesoro de la Real Colegiata de Roncesvalles
and its director, Assunta Recarte Zabalza; thanks must be extended
to the Chapter of Roncesvalles. I am indebted to Rory Naismith
for much valuable discussion, and to the following in various
connections: Andrew Breeze, Roger Collins, Malcolm Godden,
Jonathan Jarrett, Michael Lapidge, Julian Pooley, Nigel Ramsay,
Elina Screen, and Tom Shippey.
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•
Received 17 Jul 2014; accepted 10 Sep 2014
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ORM’S VERNACULAR LATINITY 1
Abstract: This article argues that Homily 3 on the Annunciation in the Ormulum presents
an image of the stella maris epithet for the Virgin Mary in the English vernacular in a way
different from its native predecessor, the Old English Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew. In bringing
this piece of liturgical material to the laity for the first time, Orm was not only drawing on
Latin content from multiple Continental sources—thus creating a composite text without
a clear exemplar—but he was also elevating his vernacular composition by adapting it to
the Latin septenary. Thus, Orm’s use of the stella maris, or “sæsterrne,” demonstrates his
participation in the dissemination of Marian devotional material to the laity as well as in
the attempt to elevate English through Latin form and content, which represents a larger
movement in the period. Keywords: Ormulum, sæsterrne, stella maris, septenary, Virgin
Mary.
Resumen: Este artículo postula que la Homilía 3 sobre la Anunciación en el Ormulum
presenta una imagen del epíteto stella maris para la Virgen María en inglés de un modo
diferente al de su predecesor nativo, el Evangelio del pseudo-Mateo en inglés antiguo.
Al presentar por vez primera este material litúrgico al público laico, Orm no solo estaba
recopilando contenidos latinos a partir de múltiples fuentes continentales—creando de este
modo un texto compuesto sin un ejemplar claro—sino que también estaba elevando su
composición en vernáculo al adaptarlo al septenario latino. Así, el uso que Orm hace de stella
maris, o “sæsterrne,” demuestra su participación en la diseminación de material devocional
mariano al público laico, así como en el intento de elevar el inglés a través de formas y
contenidos latinos, lo que representa un movimiento mayor en el periodo. Palabras clave:
Ormulum, sæsterrne, stella maris, septenario, Virgen María.
1 Introduction
lthough most scholarship on the ORMULUM has
focused on the language and orthography of Orm’s
collection of metrical homilies, Homily 3 displays
innovative treatment of Marian devotional material and reveals
A
1
I am grateful for the support of and feedback from Haruko Momma and Mo
Pareles in the early stages of this article and especially to my reviewers, whose
comments were exceedingly helpful. Finally, I am thankful to Dr. Bruce BarkerBenfield at the Bodleian Library for giving me access to MS Junius 1 in 2012 and
2014.
ISSN: 1132–631X
Carla María Thomas, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 167–198
Carla María Thomas
the move of such material out of the liturgy and into vernacular
preaching in twelfth-century England.2 The Ormulum is a late
twelfth-century collection of verse homilies organized around the
life of Christ and written in fifteen-syllable septenary verse, which
includes seven metrical feet and one unstressed final syllable per line.
The author Orm was a regular canon writing from approximately
1160 until 1180 in southern Lincolnshire, possibly associated with
Bourne Abbey, which was an Arrouaisian reform of the order of
St. Augustine and founded in 1138 by Norman Augustinians who
were brought to England after the Conquest (Parkes 1983; Worley
2003: 23). This paper argues that the Ormulum was participating
in the dissemination of liturgical material through vernacular
preaching texts in twelfth-century England with the specific
example of the “sæsterrne” (“sea-star”) epithet for the Virgin
Mary. Furthermore, I maintain that this practice is emblematic
of a larger movement in the twelfth century, for which I draw
upon Emily Thornbury’s recent work on the late Anglo-Saxon
poetic tradition. She argues that late Anglo-Saxon poets brought
“Latinate high culture” to the English laity by making it seem
like it derived from a Latin source (Thornbury 2014: 235). In
the case of the Ormulum, the content most certainly comes from
Latin sources, but so does its verse form, which strengthens the
connection between Orm’s vernacular English preaching to its
Latinity.
2
For an extensive bibliography of Ormulum research, I direct the reader to NilsLennart Johannesson’s website www2.english.su.se/nlj/orrmproj/orrmulum_site.
html. The publication of the critical edition in the late nineteenth century by
Robert Holt, with notes and glossary by Robert Meadows White, instigated the
early philological work on the collection. The works of G. Sarrazin, Emanuel
Menthel, Moritz Trautman, Sigurd Holm, and Heinrich Matthes were essential
in understanding the language, verse, and sources of the verse homilies, and recent
work, especially by Nils-Lennart Johannesson and Stephen Morrison, has aided
scholars in moving beyond its philology.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Orm’s vernacular Latinity
2 The Latin tradition of the STELLA MARIS
Stephen Morrison posits that Orm looked south of England for
source material, most likely from works associated with northern
French schools, such as those at Tours, Chartres, Rheims, and
Clairvaux (2002: 266). In his examination of textual evidence,
however, Morrison concludes that the correspondences between
the Ormulum and the Glossa ordinaria, as well as between the
Ormulum and the Enarrationes in Matthaeum, are only partial,
which suggests that “a hitherto unidentified text, sharing much in
common with both” may be the source of the composite exemplar
for the Ormulum (2002: 266). This suggestion discredits Orm’s
own compositional ability, and it seems more likely that Orm was
a well-read canon who drew more from memory than from any
singular exemplar.3 Before I discuss the Continental works that
influenced Orm’s use of the stella maris (“star of the sea”) epithet
in the vernacular, I will first show where the tradition originated:
from the authoritative writings of Sts. Jerome, Isidore of Seville,
and Bede.
Scholars once considered the etymology of Mary as the stella
maris a mistranslation in Isidore of Seville’s Etymologiae from
Jerome’s Quaestiones hebraicae in libro Geneseos (Graef 1963: 162–
163; Pelikan 1978: 162; 1996: 94). Here, Jerome uses the phrase
stilla maris, which means “drop of the sea,” and Winfried Rudolf
writes that this definition was influenced by I Kings 18.41–45
(2011).4 It was generally accepted that Isidore mistranslated the
phrase when he wrote in “De reliquis in Evangelio nominibus”
(Book VII.x.1, ed. Lindsay): “Maria inluminatrix, sive stella
maris. Genuit enim lumen mundi. Sermone autem Syro Maria
3
See Johannesson (2007b, especially 132) for another discussion on Orm’s use of
more than one source to develop an intricate metaphor in his homilies.
4
The passage from I Kings concerns a small cloud that rises from the sea, which
promises rain after a long draught.
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domina nuncupatur; et pulchre; quia Dominum genuit.”5 More
recent scholarship has suggested that Jerome was the originator
of the phrase in his commentary on Matthew in his Liber de
Nominibus Hebraicis (Clayton 1990: 249–250; Gambero 2005:
69): “Mariam plerique aestimant interpretari, illuminant me
isti, uel illuminatrix, uel Smyrna maris, sed mihi nequaquam
uidetur. Melius autem est, ut dicamus sonare eam stellam
maris, siue amarum mare: sciendumque quod Maria, sermone
Syro domina nuncepatur” (1852: 841–842).6 We can see that the
more likely origin of Isidore’s etymology was from this passage
in which Jerome specifically uses the phrase “stellam maris”.
Furthermore, we can compare Jerome’s “sermone Syro domina
nuncepatur” with Isidore’s “Sermone autem Syro Maria domina
nuncupatur,” which appears to be taken nearly verbatim from
Jerome.
Following Jerome’s and Isidore’s leads, the most influential
contributions to the literary development of Mary as the stella
maris in early medieval England are found in Bede’s commentary
on Luke, the Ave maris stella hymn, and other religious writings
by Continental commentators. Bede interprets Mary’s name in
a similar fashion to Jerome and Isidore in his commentary on
Luke: “Maria autem Hebraice stella maris Syriace uero domina
uocatur et merito quia et totius mundi dominum et lucem saeculis
meruit generare perennem” (1852b: 325).7 The epithet of stella
5
“Mary the illuminator, and star of the sea. She brought forth, indeed, the light
of the world. In the Syrian language, however, Mary is called ‘lady’ and ‘beauty’
because she brought forth the Lord.”
6
“And very many determine that Mary is interpreted ‘these illuminate me’ or
‘she who enlightens’ or ‘myrrh of the sea,’ but it does not seem thus to me at
all. It is better, however, that we say she means ‘star of the sea,’ or ‘bitter sea:’
and that it ought to be known that Mary is called ‘lady’ in the Syrian language.”
7
“Mary, however, in Hebrew is called the ‘star of the sea,’ and in Syriac, indeed,
‘lady’ and deservedly because she deserved to produce the lord of all the world and
the enduring light for this life.”
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Orm’s vernacular Latinity
maris was considered one of the prerogatives or merits of Mary,
and Bede continues this tradition in a homily for the feast of the
Annunciation, as mentioned above: “Nec praetereundem quod
beata Dei genetrix meritis praecipuis etiam nominee testimonium
reddit. Interpretatur enim stella maris” (1852a: 10).8 Interestingly,
Bede is the first, based on the evidence that I have found, to
expound on the importance of this interpretation of Mary by
bringing in further reference to the nautical metaphor: “Et ipsa
quasi sidus eximium inter fluctus saeculi labentis gratia priuilegii
specialis refulsit” (1852a: 10).9
The second major development in the stella maris metaphor is
found in the ninth-century Latin hymn Ave maris stella, which
survives on folio 1v in the St. Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek, Codices
Sangallenses MS 95 and reads:10
Aue maris stella dei mater alma atque
semper uirgo felix celi porta.
Sumens illud aue gabrihelis ore funda nos
in pace mutans nomen eue.
Solue uincla reis profer lumen cecis mala
nostra pelle bona cuncta posce.
Monstra te esse matrem sumat per te precem
qui pro nobis natus tulit esse tuus.
Uirgo singularis inter omnes mitis nos culpis
solutos mites fac et castos.
Vitam presta puram iter para tutum
ut uidentes Jesus semper conletemur
8
“And we must not pass over the fact that the blessed mother of God gave
testimony by her special merits and also by her name. She is interpreted as the
‘star of the sea.’ ”
9
“And she herself, just as an extraordinary constellation among the waves
of the slipping world, shone brightly on account of her special esteem and
privilege.”
10
The following text was transcribed from images of the original MS, available
at www.e-codices.unifr.ch.
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Sit laus deo patri summon Christo decus spiritui sancto
honor tribus unus. Amen.11
Notice that as the star of the sea, Mary must “profer lumen cecis”
and grant “iter para tutum.” That is, the “vitam […] puram” for
which the prayer asks is the safe journey through the transitory
world back to paradise. Eventually making its way into the liturgy,
Ave maris stella became “one of the most popular Marian songs
of all Christendom” (Gambero 2005: 69). Hrabanus Maurus was
penning his own works containing the stella maris around the
same time as the hymn was composed, and the hymn and patristic
etymologies inspired later Continental theologians, like Fulbert of
Chartres and Bernard of Clairvaux.12
Instead of the more elaborate depictions of Mary as the seastar that arise in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, Maurus’s
commentary on Matthew is reminiscent of Bede’s brief
amplification. Here, Maurus discusses the genealogy of Jesus, the
division of people into three tribes, and the betrothal of Mary
(1852a: 744). He begins, as we have seen previously with Jerome
and Isidore: “Maria quoque interpretatur Stella maris, sive amarum
11
The text above is my transcription with abbreviations expanded and italicized:
“Hail the star of the sea, kind mother of God, and eternal virgin, happy gate to
heaven. Receiving that Ave from the mouth of Gabriel, establish is us in peace,
changing the name of Eve. Release the band of the bound, bring forth the light of
heaven, banish our evil, call upon all good. Show yourself to be Mother, through
you may he receive prayer, who was born for us, to be yours. O, unique virgin,
meek among all, free us from our sins, make us meek and undefiled. Grant a pure
life, a safe journey, so that seeing Jesus, may we always rejoice. Praise be to God
the Father, to the highest Christ glory, to the Holy Spirit honor, three in one.
Amen.”
12
Paschasius Radbertus, an author who was also widely read in early medieval
England, used the stella maris epithet in his ninth-century writings as well,
but Orm does not seem to have drawn from Radbertus for this content. For
Radbertus’s use of the stella maris, see his Expositio in Euangelium Matthaei
(1852).
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mare, et hoc nomen apte competit matri Salvatoris.”13 In Homily
CLXIII, Maurus revisits the Virgin Mary as the stella maris and
elaborates further on the reason for her title: the sea is “amarum”
(“bitter”)—thus implying that the sea represents earthly life and all
its troubles—but Mary as the star “dulcis est nautis” (“is a pleasure
for sailors”) because: “mos est ut stella viros ad portum adducat; sic
Maria in mundo ubi natus est Christus, qui omnes ad vitam ducit
dum sequantur illum, illuminatrix et domina dicitur, quae venum
lumen et Dominum nobis peperi” (1852b: 464).14 Luigi Gambero
explains that illuminatrix or inluminatrix, which he translates as
“light-bringer,” made the biggest impression on Christians in
Maurus’s time.
Influential though Maurus may have been, Fulbert of Chartres
and Bernard of Clairvaux proved to have even greater significance
for medieval Marian devotion. Fulbert of Chartres, who spent
much of his time in Rome and Rheims, wrote sermons on
the nativity and the purification of Mary that were especially
important to the progression of Marian doctrine (Gambero 2005:
81). Margot Fassler writes that Fulbert’s famous sermon Approbate
consuetudinis on the nativity of Mary “is a striking break with
many past Marian liturgical texts in the West and yet firmly
rooted in the devotional mentality of the Peace Movement, which
emphasized the mirculous [sic], intervening powers of the saints”
(2000: 417).15 Fulbert made his greatest contribution to the Marian
cult as the bishop of Chartres, whose patron saint was the Virgin
Mary and whose relic, her birthing chemise, was destroyed in
13
“Mary, also, is understood as the ‘star of the sea,’ or ‘bitter sea,’ and this name
fittingly matches the mother of the Saviour.”
14
“It is the custom that a star leads men to a port; so Mary, in the world where
Christ was born, who leads all towards life provided that they follow, is called
‘illuminator’ and ‘lady,’ who brought forth the true light and the Lord to us.”
15
For more information on the Peace Movement, see Head & Landes (1992) and
Head (1999).
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the fire of 1020 (2000: 403, 405). He participated in the growing
stella maris tradition through his liturgical writings, and the fire
of 1020 seemed to only heighten his need to empower both the
saint and his cathedral. The Peace Movement encouraged the
kind of liturgical expansion in the years preceding and following
the turn of the millenium that the Marian apocrypha enjoyed in
the eleventh century and especially the twelfth century (2000:
399).16 According to Fassler, Fulbert specifically strove to eradicate
doubts regarding apocryphal stories of Mary in order to integrate
them into the liturgy, especially her nativity—the feast of which
he sought to “magnify ” (2000: 405).
In Approbate consuetudinis, which is the first manuscript evidence
of the Nativity apocryphon (Biggs 2007: 25), Fulbert refers to the
Annunciation scene in the Nativity in which an angel appears to
Joachim and Anna to announce Mary’s birth and what she will be
named: “sed divina dispensatio nomen accepit, ita ut ipsa quoque
vocabuli sui figura magnum quiddam innueret: interpretatur
enim maris stella” (1852: 321–322).17 The Old Testament prophecy
in Isaiah 7:14—“propter hoc dabit Dominus ipse vobis signum
ecce virgo concipiet et pariet filium et vocabitis nomen eius
16
Fassler explains that, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, “new pieces for the
Mass and, to an even greater degree, for the Divine Office” were being created in
large numbers.
17
“But she received the name by divine direction, so that the form itself of her
name signified sometime great: certainly it means the ‘star of the sea.’ ” Notice the
final phrase is the same as the one Bede uses in his homily, which indicates that
Fulbert likely used Bede as one source for his own sermon on Mary. Fulbert was
working from the Libellus de nativitate Sanctae Mariae, the source of which was
the apocryphal Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew, which I will discuss below, and it is
significant because “the compiler of the Libellus sought to legitimatize the legends
found in Pseudo-Matthew and to streamline the materials it contained, focusing
it more intensely upon the Virgin” (Fassler 2000: 402). Thus, the compiler’s goal
mirrored Fulbert’s own intentions.
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Emmanuhel”18—lent itself to claims of prophetic fulfillment in the
canonical Gospels, as well as in the New Testament apocrypha.19
Biblical prophecies drawn from the Hebrew Scriptures were
well known when the earliest of the Marian apocrypha were
being written in the second century; hence the invention of the
apocryphal proclamation of Mary’s birth and name in her Nativity,
which relates to the events of the Gospels, finds validation through
prophetic precedent (Clayton 1998: 7).
Shortly after discussing the divine plan of Mary’s name, Fulbert
intensifies the meaning of her name by elaborating on the iter para
tutum of the Ave maris stella:
Nautis quippe mare transeuntibus, notare opus est stellam
hanc, longe a summo coeli cardine coruscantem, et ex respectu
illius aestimare atque dirigere cursum suum, ut portum
destinatum apprehendere possint. Simili modo, fratres,
oportet universos Christicolas, inter fluctus hujus saeculi
remigantes, attendere maris stellam hanc, id est Mariam, quae
supremo rerum cardini Deo proxima est, et respectu exempli
ejus cursum vitae dirigere. (322)20
As noted above, Bede appears to be the first to elaborate on the
metaphor by alluding to the “waves of the slipping world,” and
Fulbert, clearly familiar with Bede’s work, expands on the theme
18
“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold a virgin will conceive
and bear a son and his name will be called Emmanuel.”
19
Fulbert includes most of Isaiah 7:14 verbatim in his Approbate consuetudinis
though not all of it. He adapts the first part and then uses ecce […] Emmanuhel
verbatim.
20
“For sailors, certainly, crossing the sea, it is necessary to distinguish this star,
twinkling from afar at the highest point in the heavens, and to appraise and direct
its course out of respect for that, so that they may be able to lay hold of the chosen
port. In a similar way, brothers, it is proper for all worshippers of Christ, rowing
among the waves of this world, to turn toward this star of the sea; it is Mary, who
is nearest to God, the highest point in the universe, and to direct the course of
their life through consideration of her example.”
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in a similar fashion. For the first time, we see the beginning of
the full potential of the meaning behind the stella maris metaphor.
Theologians do not liken Mary to a shining celestial entity merely
because she is perpetually pure, thus radiating a bright, blinding
light, even if that may be how the idea began. Rather, most
important to Fulbert and later theologians was the guidance and
protection Mary provides by way of the perfect example. Christians
must look to Mary’s shining example of purity and faith in order
to navigate the storms of earthly temptation; she alone can lead the
faithful Christian to heaven’s gates. Therefore, not only does Mary
emerge as the “star of the sea” and the “gate of heaven,” but she also
becomes the mediator, or “mediatrix,” between humans and God.
In the twelfth century, Bernard of Clairvaux takes this elaboration
to a new level by rendering what has now become familiar Marian
devotional material in striking and seemingly new ways.
Born in 1090 in Bourgogne, Bernard was admitted to the
Cîteaux monastery, which was the nexus of the Cistercian order,
in 1112, and the order went through a vast expansion throughout
Europe primarily because of his involvement (Gambero 2005: 131).
Bernard went on to found a monastery at Clairvaux, which he
dedicated to Mary as was the custom of the Cistercian order, and
he served as abbot for thirty-eight years until he died in 1153 (2005:
131). Although Bernard does not write extensively on Mary in his
numerous works, his contribution to her devotional writing is
found in the beauty with which he writes about her. Chrysogonus
Waddell writes, “Bernard’s genius was not that [of ] an initiator or
innovator, but of a witness to tradition,” and even though Bernard
was influenced by traditional works, he rendered them so beautifully
that “it seemed as though his hearers and readers were discovering
them for the first time” (Clairvaux 1993: vxiii). Homily II on the
Gospel of Luke, which extols the virtues of Mary and elaborates
on her role in human redemption, contains a beautiful elaboration
of the stella maris in the last section, but Bernard takes his time
getting there. As Waddell explains, we see how the traditions of
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Marian etymology and biblical prophecy play into Bernard’s praise
of the Virgin as the stella maris.
Before he elaborates on the meaning of Mary’s name as the star
of the sea, in sixteen sections Bernard gives a creative summation
of what had become central elements of Marian doctrine by this
time, such as Mary’s perpetual virginity, a reference to prophecy
in Numbers 24:17—“orietur stella ex Iacob” (“A star will rise out
of Jacob”)—and Mary as guiding intermediary. Finally, in the
seventeenth and final section of his homily, the abbot begins with a
verse from Luke 1:27, “et nomen virginis Maria” (“And the virgin’s
name was Mary”), and then proceeds, first, with her perpetual
purity relative to the nature of a star:
Loquamur pauca et super hoc nomine, quod interpretatum
maris stella dicitur, et matri Virgini valde convenienter aptatur.
Ipsa namque aptissime sideri comparator; quia, sicut sine sui
corruptione sidus suum emittit radium, sic absque sui laesione
virgo parturit filium. (1852: 70)21
After the direct reference to the rising star prophecy, Bernard
finally delves into the meaning and elaboration of the stella maris as
a guide for the metaphorical seafarers of life:
O quisquis te intelligis in hujus saeculi profluvio magis inter
procellas et tempestates fluctuare, quam per terram ambulare;
ne avertas oculos a fulgore hujus sideris, si non vis obrui
procellis. Si insurgant venti tentationum, si incurras scopulos
tribulationum, respice stellam, voca Mariam. (1852: 70)22
21
“Let us say a little about this name, which is said to mean the ‘star of the sea,’
and for the Virgin mother it is very appropriate. For she is most fittingly compared
to a star; because, just as a star sends out its ray without its own corruption, thus
without injuring her own virginity she brought forth her son.”
22
“O whoever you are who feel you are more likely to be tossed among storms
and tempests in the flowing waters of this world, than to walk along the earth;
do not avert your eyes from the brightness of this star, if you do not wish to be
overwhelmed by the storms. If the winds of temptations rise up, if you run into
the rocks of tribulations, look to the star, call Mary.”
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This passage begins Bernard’s exhortation to the audience that they
should look to Mary whenever they are in need, and the influence
of Bede is clear when Bernard mentions the saeculi profluvio, which
he then links to the temptation of the deadly sins.
3 Making English Latinate
Having discussed the Latin sources of the stella maris above, I
turn now to the ways in which vernacular English writing in the
twelfth century sought to introduce an appearance of Latinity to its
reader-audience. In Becoming a Poet in Anglo-Saxon England, Emily
Thornbury resists the institutionalized belief that Old English
poetry suffered a “decay” from the tenth century onward. Instead,
she argues that late Old English poetry may be considered, more
usefully, a new form of Old English verse that actually represents
“the apotheosis of Old English verse, not its downfall” (2014: 224).
Dubbed the Southern mode because of its origin and surviving
manuscripts being localized to the south of England—though some
also extend to the West Midlands—this new form purposefully
diverged from the classical Old English poetic style while heavily
relying upon Latin sources to create new vernacular texts that
“functioned not as commentaries or retellings, but as simulacra”
(2014: 224). Not all texts in the Southern mode take their material
directly from a Latin source; however, “the essential criterion is
that a poem sound as if it might have a Latin original” (2014: 225).
Furthermore, and most pertinent to my purposes, Thornbury
argues that the true “power” of this form of composition was in
its ability to transcend the boundaries of the religious institution
to reach the laity:
[…] by giving laypeople the chance to feel that they were
directly experiencing Latin texts, the authors of such poems
could also help build ties beyond cloister and cathedral walls.
It is even possible that some authors in the Southern mode
were themselves laypeople who wanted to participate in
Latinate high culture: even a poet with “small Latin” or none
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could create verse that sounded as if it had a Latin antecedent.
(2014: 235–236)
One example is the Old English Judgment Day II, which is
a translation, more or less, of Bede’s De die iudicii. As I will
demonstrate below, Orm was working from Continental Latin
sources to create a vernacular version of the stella maris for his lay
audience. To this, I would also argue that the very meter in which
Orm chooses to write—the fifteen-syllable septenary with seven
feet and an unstressed final syllable—is also an attempt to present
an English text in such a way as to elevate it through a meter based
on a Latin model.
The first scholar to publicly recognize that the Ormulum was
written in verse rather than prose, which is how George Hickes
(1705: 88) and Humfrey Wanley (1705: 63) produced excerpts of
it in their scholarship, was Thomas Tyrwhitt in 1775 (repr. 1845:
206–208).23 Jakob Schipper (1895: 186–189) was the first to identify
the type of meter used in both the Ormulum and Poema Morale as
the septenary, and the debate of its exact categorization and origins
has been ongoing.24 Nevertheless, scholars have long recognized
that Orm uses a fifteen-syllable line that consists of seven metrical
feet and ends with an unstressed, and therefore fifteenth, syllable.
His lines are unrhymed, unlike the contemporaneous Poema
Morale, and he does not appear concerned with maintaining the
native Old English tradition of alliteration, which the author of the
23
I would like to thank one of my reviewers who pointed out that Jan van Vliet
(d. 1666) was really the first to identify the verse form of the Ormulum in his
notebook (London, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 783), but his findings were never
published. Thus, the first published recognition of Orm’s use of verse is Tyrwhitt’s
essay.
24
For a debate on the origins of the septenary in English, see Trautmann (1882:
111–130), Menthel (1885: 49–86), and Solopova (1996: 423–439). For an argument
against the appropriation of the term “septenary” for English verse, see the entry
for “Septenarius” in Preminger et al. (1993: 1145), which, unfortunately, offers no
alternative.
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contemporaneous poem “The Grave” attempts. Occassionally, Orm
will utilize alliteration briefly for rhetorical and mnemonic effect,
but it is not a key element of his verse.
While other Middle English (both early and late) poems contain
unstable verse lines, Orm’s use of the strict fifteen-syllable line
regularly produces an iambic meter so that it would not be entirely
inaccurate to refer to his verse as iambic heptameter:
Nu bró-|þerr wáll-|terr. bró-|þerr mín. | Afftérr | þe flǽ-|shess kínd-|e (D1)25
As this line demonstrates, Orm adds an unstressed syllable after
the final stressed syllable in the seventh foot, which renders the
final metrical foot incomplete. Furthermore, due to the clear
structure of the verse line—four feet with a strong ending in
the first half-line and three feet and extra syllable with a weak
ending in the second half-line—on the one hand, one may argue
for a traditional page layout with intented half-lines, as printed in
Holt’s edition:
Nu, broþerr Wallterr, broþerr min
Affterr þe flæshess kinde;
⁊ broþerr min i Crisstenndom
Þurrh fulluhht ⁊ þurrh trowwþe; (D1–4)26
On the other hand, one may argue for a page layout with long
lines and a visible caesura, as I do in my transcription of the same
lines:
25
All excerpts from the Ormulum in this article come from my edited
transcriptions, and all translations are my own. Line numbers follow the
numbering in Holt’s edition (D = Dedication; no letter is used to designate the
Homily lines) since it is the only complete edition currently available. However,
I have expanded all abbreviations and Tironian notae in italics, silently inserted
superscript letters, and left out Orm’s accents. “Now, Brother Walter, my brother
according to the nature of the flesh.”
26
“Now, Brother Walter, my brother according to the nature of the flesh and my
brother in Christendom through baptism and through belief.”
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Nu broþerr wallterr. broþerr min. Affterr þe flæshess kinde.
Annd broþerr min i crisstenndom. þurrh fulluhht. annd þurrh trowwþe.27
The only aid that the manuscript provides is punctuation between
each half-line, which I have maintained in the transcription above
although, as the first line above indicates, Orm also sometimes
uses punctuation syntactically. The layout, therefore, appears to
be subject to traditional editorial policies, or, rather, to personal
aesthetic preferences.
Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century editorial practice generally
published the septenary verse of the Ormulum in alternating halflines, which is the case with Tyrwhitt, Holt, and Henry Sweet
(1884: 47–78). However, Edwin Guest published his second volume
of A History of English Rhythms in 1838 with extracts of the Ormulum
in long lines (208, 210–216). Like Guest, Joseph Hall published
his excerpt in long lines wih a caesura in his Selections from Early
Middle English (1920: 112–117). More recently, editors like J. A. W.
Bennett and G. V. Smithers (1966) and Elaine Treharne (2009)
have maintained the tradition of the half-line layout. In the history
of publishing Early Middle English texts with the fifteen-syllable
line, it appears that only Poema Morale, The Passion of our Lord,
and The Woman of Samaria have been consistently printed in the
long lines. This is likely based on lineation within the manuscripts
even though one of the earliest manuscripts of Poema Morale is
laid out like prose in the same way that Orm writes out his verse
while another later Poema Morale manuscript lays out the poem in
half-lines so that its rhyming couplets appear in every other line.28
The layout of the Ormulum’s septenary verse, therefore, has fallen
27
The visible caesura that I use is a personal editorial choice, though unnecessary,
since other Early Middle English poems are usually published in an unbroken
long line, as I will demonstrate below.
28
For the poem laid out as prose, see London, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 487,
and for the poem laid out in alternating half lines, see Oxford, Bodleian Library,
MS Digby 4.
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to either tradition or personal preference, not metrical necessity.
Elizabeth Solopova has effectively demonstrated that the format of
an edition cannot be determined by meter since the structure of the
Ormulum warrants an editorial layout in both the half-lines and the
long lines (1996: 436).
As for the origin of Orm’s septenary line, Schipper suggests that
Orm was influenced by the Latin iambic catalectic tetrameter, also
known as the septenarius, because of the extra syllable at the end of
the verse in the Ormulum (1895: 186). The example he provides—“O
crux, frutex salvificus, / vivo fonte rigatus”—comes from the Planctus
Bonaventurae of the thirteenth century. Significantly, Schipper has
written two tetrametric lines, which, alone, typically contain four
metrical feet, to demonstrate how every second line is catalectic.
That is, the line is incomplete and ends with only half a foot. When
the two lines are combined into a long line, we suddenly find a verse
form very similar to that found in the Ormulum: fifteen syllables,
seven feet, and an additional unstressed syllable.
While Schipper’s argument is appealing, Solopova maintains a
direct correlation between this specific form of Latin meter and
Orm’s verse is not necessarily accurate. She reminds us that the
fifteen-syllable catalectic tetrameter was not written in iambic meter
at the time of Orm’s composition (1996: 428). Rather, it was usually
written as the trochaic tetrameter catalectic, and Orm’s meter more
closely resembles the “native tradition” found in Poema Morale,
The Woman of Samaria, and A Good Orison of Our Lady (1996:
428). This tradition refers to the native four-beat verse, which may
have contributed to the eight-syllable half-lines that emerge in
the Early Middle English period. The native tradition, however,
is not explicit in these poems for two reasons. First, the Ormulum
predates these three poems but his meter is more regular, and,
second, one cannot find one clear evolutionary track easily from
Old English to Early Middle English verse. I argue, however, that
the iambic septenary line must be a natural result of lengthening
the Old English metrical line while also drawing influence from
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Latin models. Trochaic or not, English poets certainly were familiar
with the iambic septenary in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.29
In fact, a cursory search of the poetry collected in Richard Morris’s
editions reveals that the three pieces of verse listed above are not
the only ones that use the fifteen-syllable line.
Morris’s editions of Early Middle English literature, which
he identifies as Old English, are crucial to the study of this body
of work, and in some cases, his editions remain the only ones
in existence, such as his editions of the Lambeth Homilies and
Trinity Homilies—the manuscripts of which both contain a copy
of Poema Morale from the end of the twelfth century.30 In his
Old English Miscellany (1872), there are at least four more potential
texts that use the same meter: The Passion of Our Lord, The Duty
of Christians, The Eleven Pains of Hell, and An Orison of our Lady.
The last three poems have perhaps escaped notice because of their
lineation into short rhyming verse. The stanzas of The Duty of
Christians are arranged in octets with an abababab rhyme scheme:
Þeo soþe luue a-mong vs beo.
wyþ-vten euch endynge.
And crist vs lete wel i-þeo.
and yue vs his blessynge.
And yeue vs þat we moten fleo.
euer sunegynge.
And þene feond and al his gleo.
and al his twyelinge. (141, ll. 1–8)31
29
The iamb may be a natural evolution from Old English B-type verse—one of
the most common forms—in which each half-line contains two occurrences of one
or more unstressed syllables followed by a stressed syllable: x / x /. Unfortunately,
there is no room in this article to elaborate further now.
30
For the Lambeth Homilies (London, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 487), see
Morris (1867), and for the Trinity Homilies (Cambridge, Trinity College, MS B.
14. 52), see Morris (1873).
31
“The true love among us is without each ending, and may Christ allow us to do
well and give us his blessing, and grant us that we may flee from ever sinning and
the fiend and all his mockery and all his deceit.”
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However, when we scan the lines, something peculiar stands out:
Þeo só-|þe lú-|ue ͜ a-móng | vs béo.
wy-þú-|ten éuch | endíng-|e.
It becomes clear that we have a replication of not only the fifteensyllable line reproduced in alternating four-feet and three-feet
hemistichs, but also the iambic meter. Therefore, instead of the
octet, we may write the poem in quatrains of long lines with the
first half-lines rhyming internally at the caesura and the second
half-lines rhyming at the end of each line:
Þeo soþe luue a-mong vs beo. wyþ-vten euch endynge.
And crist vs lete wel i-þeo. and yue vs his blessynge.
And yeue vs þat we moten fleo. euer sunegynge.
And þene feond and al his gleo. and al his twyelinge.
Interestingly, even though Orm does not make much use of rhyme,
he does occasionally utilize it in the same way that he sometimes
uses alliteration to emphasize a particular piece of exegesis or
didacticism.
The following couplet appears twice in what is typically referred
to as the Dedication of the Ormulum:
Wiþþ ære shollde lisstenn itt. Wiþþ herrte shollde itt trowwenn.
Wiþþ tunge shollde spellenn itt. Wiþþ dede shollde itt follᵹhenn.
(D133–136; D309–312)
In the first appearance of these lines, Orm is explaining why he wants
all English people to have access to the Gospel: they should hear
it, believe it, preach it, and follow it. He has based his masterpiece
on doubling and repetition but also upon the idea of the number
four: there are four Gospels and Gospel writers, and Orm likens the
four books to the “quaþþrigan” (80) or quadriga, a four-wheeled
chariot, of Amminadab, who is one of Christ’s distant ancestors
according to the Hebrew Scriptures and the Gospels of Luke and
Matthew.32 It follows, then, that Orm decided to reiterate these
32
For more on the quadriga in the Ormulum, see Johannesson (2007a).
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lines after explaining the rationale behind his quadriga framework
and metaphor because of its group of four hortatives.
Thus, the Ormulum anticipates a much more widespread use
of the fifteen-syllable iambic line than scholars have previously
thought, and with the English iambic septenary appearing in the
Ormulum first and then remaining in use through the thirteenth
century, it seems reasonable to claim that the lengthening of
the Old English metrical line adapted well to the Latin meter.
Orm’s meter, however, is only one characteristic of the Latinity
of his collection of homilies. The other major contribution to the
seeming Latin nature of his work lies in the treatment of his source
material to produce a vernacular English version of the stella maris.
4 Early English translations of the STELLA MARIS
Orm’s use of the “sæsterrne” for Mary is only the second occurrence
of the stella maris epithet in the English vernacular. The first
occurrence exists in three manuscripts of the same text, the Old
English translation of the apocryphal Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew:
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Hatton 114; Cambridge, Corpus
Christi College, MS 367, Part II; and Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS
Bodley 343. The source of the Old English text is the Latin Gospel of
Pseudo-Matthew, which is a reworking of the Latin Proteuangelium
Iacobi. The Proteuangelium was the foundation for a great amount
of the Marian apocrypha and eventually led to the series of Marian
feasts (Clayton 1998: 8). Additionally, it supplies the first account
of the birth and childhood of Mary, which made its way into the
vernacular translation of the Latin Pseudo-Matthew. The Latin text
that was likely the source of the Old English Pseudo-Matthew is
extant in Cambridge, Pembroke College, MS 25 and can be placed
in Bury St. Edmunds by 1154 (1998: 129). Although the manuscript
dates to the eleventh century, the collection of texts must have been
available no later than the tenth century in England because Old
English homilies in the Vercelli Book, the Old English Martyrology,
and other vernacular compilations draw on its contents (1998: 130).
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The earliest evidence of any reference to Marian apocryphal
material in Anglo-Saxon England is the Irish monk Adamnan’s
account of Arculf ’s visit to Mary’s tomb in Jerusalem in De locis
sanctis, written in Latin in the late seventh century (Clayton 1998:
101). The Old English Martyrology was composed in the mid ninth
century, and The Benedictional of St. Æthelwold dates to the late
tenth century, both of which make use of the apocryphal material
(1998: 107–108). Unlike his teacher Æthelwold and many other
contemporaries, Ælfric chose not to use apocryphal texts in his
preaching, a choice which was likely based on his desire not to
perpetuate the supposed heresy (Clayton 1990: 244). A note titled
De Maria that was added to the end of the homily for the Sixteenth
Sunday after Pentecost in the second series of his Catholic Homilies
reads:
Hwæt wylle we secgan ymbe Marian gebyrd-tide, buton þæt
heo wæs gestryned þurh fæder and ðurh moder swa swa oðre
men, and wæs on ðam dæge acenned þe we cweðað sexta idus
Septembris? Hire fæder hatte Ioachim, and hire moder Anna,
eawfæste men on ðære ealdan æ; ac we nellað be ðam na
swiðor awritan, þy-læs ðe we on ænigum gedwylde befeallon.
(Godden 1979: 78)33
Ælfric was, however, anomalous in this period for his prolific
writing and popularity as much as he was for his orthodoxy: his
writings are the only extant forms of resistance to apocryphal texts
(Clayton 1998: 111). Unfortunately, his admonitions do not seem to
have had much effect on his reader-audience. As my discussion of
Fulbert above demonstrates, the Marian nativity apocrypha found
its way into liturgical texts, and the creation of two new feasts in
33
“What will we say about the birthday of Mary except that she was begotten by
father and by mother just as other people, and was born on the day that we call
the eighth of September? Her father was called Joachim, and her mother Anna,
pious people in the old law, but we will not write more about them, lest we fall
into any error.”
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England, which was the first in the West to celebrate such feasts,
provides further evidence for this liturgical addition (1998: 114).34
The earliest manuscript of the Old English Pseudo-Matthew,
which does not translate the Latin text in full because the Latin
only partially survived into the eleventh century, dates to the end
of the eleventh century (MS Hatton 114), and it translates the
surviving chapters I through XII and adds a prologue and epilogue.
The narrative contains the Nativity of Mary because it is a homily
for the feast of her birth and childhood, but the contents extend
past the parameters for her feast as the homily continues into the
Annunciation and her pregnancy. Clayton takes the continuation of
the homily into the Annunciation as evidence that the composition
of the homily was not necessarily based on the demands of the
feast (1998: 136–137). Furthermore, the addition of a prologue with
a discussion of Mary as the “sæsteorra,” which does not exist in
the Latin text, and the continued narration of her life past the
Annunciation may suggest that the scribe was more focused on the
devotion to the Virgin than the particular theme of the feast. The
“sæsteorra” passage reads:
Sæsteorra heo is ᵹecweden, forðan þe se steorra on niht
ᵹecyþeð scypliðendum mannum, hwyder bið east and west,
hwyder suð and norð. Swa þonne wearð þurh ða halᵹan
fæmnan Sancta Marian ᵹecyþed se rihte siðfæt to ðam ecan life
þam ðe lanᵹe ær sæton on þeostrum and on deaþes scuan and
on þam unstillum yðum þære sæ þises middaneardes. (Assman
1889: 117–118)35
34
Clayton explains that Winchester began the feast of the conception of Mary
around 1030, masses for which are found in the New Minster Missal, Le Havre,
Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 330 (mid-eleventh century) and in the Leofric
Missal, Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Bodley 579 (c. 1066).
35
“She is called star of the sea because the star of the sea at night makes known
to seafaring men where are east and west, south and north. In the same way, was
through the holy virgin, Saint Mary made known the right path to eternal life to
those who long before sat in darkness and in the shadow of death and upon the
restless waves of the sea of this middle-earth.”
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The tradition of commenting on Mary’s name, especially its
significance as the stella maris, originates with the early Latin
commentators, as I have shown, and while several Continental
writers contribute to the overall corpus, the Old English
Pseudo-Matthew author is closer to the Insular Latin writings
of Bede.
Bede’s homily for the feast of the Annunciation of the Virgin
Mary refers to the temporal world as “fluctus saeculi labentis”
(“waves of the slipping world”), and the Old English prologue
mentions “þam unstillum yðum sæ þises middaneardes” (1852a:
10). The idea that the North Star represents Mary is perhaps
even more strongly evoked in the Old English prologue with
the “scypliðendum mannum” seeking the star at night and the
reference to the cardinal directions: “hwyder bið east and west,
hwyder suð and norð.” Although the North Star is implied in the
“sæsterrne” passage of the Ormulum, the reference is less obvious
than the prologue of the Pseudo-Matthew—not to mention Orm
neglects to refer to waves entirely—which suggests that Orm’s
homily derives from the Continental Latin texts rather than Bede
and other Insular Latin texts.
What is most significant about the Old English PseudoMatthew is the fact that two of the three manuscripts date
to the middle and second half of the twelfth century, like
the Ormulum. Because few people read the Ormulum beyond
its introductory material (i.e., the Dedication, Preface, and
Introduction in Holt’s edition), scholars have overlooked Orm’s
participation in Marian devotion through his vernacular use of
the stella maris epithet.36 J. A. W. Bennett mentions Orm’s use
of the Norse form “sæsteorrne” in reference to Mary only as
an example of his “wholly native” language, and he uses this
example to emphasize the mixture of English and Scandinavian
36
See, for example, Rubin (2009); Clayton (1998); and especially Clayton (1990:
249–252).
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languages that arose from the Danelaw (1990: 33). Except for
Bennett’s minor comment, no other discussion of Orm’s use of
the “sæsterrne” exists presently.
The epithet arises when Orm relates the Annunciation in
Homily 3. In this homily on Luke 1:26, the beginning of which
is lacking due to two missing folios,37 Orm adds an etymological
passage about the Virgin’s name:
Annd ure dere laffdiᵹ wass; þurrh drihhtin nemmnedd Marᵹe.
Forr þatt tatt name shollde wel; bitacnenn hire sellþe.
Forr hire name tacneþþ uss; sæsterrne onn ennglissh spæche.
Annd ᵹho beþ æfre. annd wass. annd iss; sæsterne38 inn haliᵹ bisne.
Forr all swa summ þe steressmann. aᵹᵹ lokeþþ till ane sterrne.
þatt stannt aᵹᵹ stille uppo þe lifft. annd swiþe brihhte shineþþ.
Forr þatt he wile follᵹhenn aᵹᵹ. þatt illke sterrness lade.
Swa þatt he muᵹhe lendenn rihht. to lande wiþþ hiss wille;
All swa birrþ all crisstene follc. till sannte Marᵹe lokenn.
Þatt stannt wiþþ hire sune i stall. þær heᵹhesst iss inn heffne.
Annd iwhillc an crisstene mann. ðatt ᵹerneþþ affterr blisse;
Birrþ stanndenn inn affterr hiss mihht. to follᵹhenn hire bisne.
Swa þatt he muᵹhe lendenn rihht. affterr hiss aᵹhen wille.
Vpp inntill hefennriches ærd; to brukenn eche blisse.
(2,131–2,146)39
37
In the Holt edition, the missing bifolium is identified by the columns (45–52),
but it would have been located between folios 22 and 23 at the break between the
two quires.
38
Orm forgot to add a superscript ⟨r⟩ here.
39
“And our dear lady was called Mary by the Lord because that name should
well signify her blessing, for her name signifies for us the sea-star in the English
language, and she ever will be, and was, and is the sea-star in holy example. Just
as the steersman always looks to a star, which always stands still up in the sky
and shines so brightly, because he wishes to follow always that same star’s way, so
that he is able to proceed correctly to land by his will. So it behooves all Christian
folk to look to Saint Mary, who stands with her son in place where it is highest
in heaven.”
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In this passage, Orm is introducing his audience to Mary for the
first time, which prompts him to elaborate on the meaning of her
name based on the tradition of the etymologies by Jerome and
Isidore. Significantly, her name was not chosen arbitrarily, but
rather, the “Drihhtin” called her thus because her name should
“bitacnenn” the dual blessing she embodies. First, she is blessed:
she is chosen by God to be the vessel for the Son of God because
of her mental and physical purity and religious devotion. Second,
she creates a blessing: by giving birth to Jesus, she literally produces
the possibility of redemption and salvation for humanity. Thus, she
is the “sæsterrne inn haliᵹ bisne” through her purity and steadfast
faith in God, and, as the “sæsterrne,” she serves as a spiritual guide
for those who are still earth-bound and in danger of losing eternal
salvation. Orm explains that, just as a steersman follows a star to
find his bearings at sea, so too “all crisstene follc” should look to
Mary to find their way across the perilous sea of life. In Old and
Early Middle English homiletic literature, Christ is often referred
to as the brightest of all stars, eternally shining because he is truth
and salvation, and Orm ties the new vernacular tradition of Mary
as the star of the sea to this older authoritative tradition of Christ
as a star. But Mary does not simply reside in heaven: she “stannt
wiþþ hire sune i stall. þær heᵹhesst iss inn heffne.” Similar to
her depiction as regina, Orm depicts Mary as equal in status and
nobility to Jesus because of her role in human salvation.
The notion of Mary as the queen of heaven is not new to the
twelfth century, but the way that vernacular English literature depicts
her as royalty seems to change. For instance, Orm regards her as the
“allre shaffte cwen” (2,159, “queen of all creation”). The Anglo-Saxon
Dream of the Rood contains an early poetic example in vernacular
English literature that contains slightly different praise for Mary:
Hwæt, me þa geweorðode wuldres ealdor
ofer holmwudu, heofonrices weard!
Swylce swa he his modor eac, Marian sylfe,
ælmihtig god for ealle menn
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geweorðode ofer eall wifa cynn.
(Krapp 1932: ll. 90–94)40
Furthermore, in De assumptione beatae Mariae in the first series
of the Catholic Homilies, Ælfric refers to Mary as the “ealles
middangeardes cwene” (Clemoes 1997: 430, “queen of all of middleearth”). There appears, then, to be an evolving trend to expand
Mary’s worth in the English vernacular. First, The Dream of the
Rood poet makes her the worthiest of all women, and then Ælfric
raises her to the status of “queen of all of the world,” which is the
realm that resides between heaven and hell (i.e., this world). Finally,
Orm considers her the queen of all creation, which transcends all
the spheres of existence, just as “weop eal gesceaft” (55, “all creation
wept”) for the death of Jesus on the Cross in The Dream of the Rood.
The shift from the earlier valuation of Mary ranking above all “wifa
cynn” to a monarch ruling over all “middangeard” to, ultimately,
ruler over all “shaffte” is significant because it parallels the entry of
the stella maris epithet into the English vernacular.
One of the other key differences between the use of the Marian
epithet in the Old English prologue to the Pseudo-Matthew and
in the Ormulum is the fact that the former precedes Marian
apocrypha on Mary’s nativity and childhood while the latter occurs
in narration of a canonical Gospel teaching. Orm resolutely avoids
apocryphal material in his homilies, like his predecessor Ælfric,
so his “sæsterrne” appears where one would expect to find it in
the Gospels: in the Annunciation scene when we first encounter
Mary. As the several etymologies for names in the Ormulum
indicate, whenever a new name arose in discussion, Orm provided
an explanation for it. Therefore, following an orthodoxy similar to
Ælfric’s and his own Augustinian inclinations towards etymological
exposition, Orm’s only concession to popular taste was to include
40
“Lo, then the lord of glory honored me above the trees on the hill, protector
of the kingdom of heaven! Just as he, Almightly God, also honored his mother,
Mary herself, over all womankind for all people.”
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a brief note on the stella maris epithet for Mary in his homily on
the Annunciation.41 The side effect, however, was that Orm was
bringing Marian material, which had entered the Latin liturgy
prior to the twelfth century, to the English laity for the first time.
5 Conclusions
The sources that Orm used in the creation of his impressive
collection are constantly under scholarly debate and include the
Glossa ordinaria; the pseudo-Anselm Enarrationes in Matthaeum;
the homilies and commentaries of Bede and Hrabanus Maurus;
the homilies of Wulfstan and Ælfric; Fulbert of Chartres’s homily
on Mary’s nativity; and other recently developed material from the
early twelfth century, such as the work of Bernard of Clairvaux. His
use of “brihhte shineþþ” is reminiscent of Bede’s and subsequent
writers’ use of “refulsit,” just as his statement that the lost sailor
can “lendenn rihht to lande” by following “þatt illke sterrnes lade”
seems to echo the hymn’s “iter para tutum” and Maurus’s “stellam
viros ad portum adducat.” Moreover, Bernard’s refrain of “respice
stellam, voca Mariam” is echoed in Orm’s “birrþ all Crisstene follc
till Sannte Marᵹe lokenn.” Fulbert’s treatment of the stella maris,
though, seems to resonate the most in the Ormulum’s passage.
Orm’s final line of the “sæsterrne” passage reads: “Þatt stannt wiþþ
hire sune i stall. þær heᵹhesst iss inn heffne.” Fulbert refers to the
“summo coeli cardine” and then explicitly writes: “id est Mariam,
quae supremo rerum cardini Deo proxima est.” Finally, Fulbert
is the only writer to refer to the Virgin Mary as an “example” by
using “exempli” in his stella maris passage, and Orm specifically
uses the word “bisne” to point to Mary as a perpetual holy example
embodied by the figure of the sea-star.
41
Bede refers to Mary as the stella maris in his homily for the feast of the
Annunciation, as mentioned above. Thus, if Orm took anything from Bede
regarding his “sæsterrne,” it may be the context in which he used the epithet.
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Based on the evidence, it would appear that Orm valued
Fulbert’s writings above others, even his English predecessors. As
I have shown, Morrison’s assertions are credible, especially when
considered alongside Orm’s Marian devotion and the similarities
between his stella maris section and those of writers in or near
France. What is most significant is the change of context for the
material in the Ormulum, which may anticipate the expanded use
and wider application of this particular Marian imagery later. For
Orm, the meaning of Mary’s name as the “sæsterrne” is crucial to
the narration and explication of the Annunciation. As my survey
of Latin sources indicates, Orm elaborates on the epithet in a way
similar to the texts of major Continental Latin writers, and his
use of the stella maris motif seems unrelated to the one found in
the Old English Pseudo-Matthew. The “unstillum yðum” in the
Old English Pseudo-Matthew is evocative of Bede’s fluctus saeculi
labentis, and this implies that the composer of the Old English
prologue to the Pseudo-Matthew relied on Insular Latin sources
to a greater extent than Orm did. These two earliest vernacular
English versions of the stella maris epithet, then, are unconnected;
however, the fact that two of the three manuscripts of the Old
English Pseudo-Matthew date from the twelfth century, like the
Ormulum, indicates the growing popularity of the stella maris
metaphor in English in this period.
It is not necessary to prove with historical evidence the
connections that may have existed between Bourne and Normandy,
between Orm and the Cistercian order’s practice of strong
devotion to Mary, and between Orm and the early Latin tradition
of etymologies although such proof would be welcome. Orm’s
treatment of his material alone provides enough evidence of a
connection to the Continent. Although the Old English PseudoMatthew is written in the vernacular as well, the composer of the
prologue to the Marian apocryphon upheld the native style of
Old English prose and relied on Insular source material. Orm was
shaped by his Anglo-Norman environment and by his desire to
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bring Latin high culture, which he had the privilege to access, to
the English laity for whom he wrote his homilies. As a result, the
relation of the Virgin Mary as the “sæsterrne” in the Ormulum
appears less native to England and more comfortable in the Latin
works of the Continent, both in substance and in poetic form.
Carla María Thomas
New York University
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des Plantagenêt (1154–1224). Poitiers, Centre d’Études Supérieures
de Civilisation Médiévale: 253–267.
Parkes, M. B. 1983: On the Presumed Date and Possible Origin of the
Manuscript of the Orrmulum: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS
Junius 1. In E. G. Stanley & D. Gray eds. Five Hundred Years of
Words and Sounds: A Festschrift for Eric Dobson. Cambridge, D. S.
Brewer: 115–127.
Pelikan, J. 1978: The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of
Doctrine: Volume 3: The Growth of Medieval Theology (600–1300).
Chicago, University of Chicago Press.
Pelikan, J. 1996: Mary Through the Centuries: Her Place in the History of
Culture. New Haven, Yale University Press.
Preminger, A., T. V. F. Brogan & F. J. Warnke eds. 1993: The New
Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics. Princeton, Princeton
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Radbertus, Paschasius 1852: Expositio in Euangelium Matthaei. In J. P.
Migne ed. Patrologia Latina 120. Paris, Migne.
Rubin, M. 2009: Mother of God: A History of the Virgin Mary. New Haven,
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Schipper, J. 1895: Grundriss der englischen Metrik. Wien & Leipzig,
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•
Received 08 Oct 2014; accepted 18 Dec 2014
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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SOME EXTRA-LINGUISTIC EVIDENCE FOR THE
IRISH PROVENANCE OF LONGLEAT HOUSE,
MARQUESS OF BATH, MS 29 AND OXFORD,
BODLEIAN LIBRARY, MS E MUS 232 1
Abstract: An Irish connection for Longleat House, Marquess of Bath, MS 29 and Oxford,
Bodleian Library MS e Mus 232 has long been supposed, primarily on linguistic grounds.
However, in Ogilvie-Thomson’s E.E.T.S edition of the Rollean prose and verse in MS
Longleat 29 (1988)—the most extensive discussion of this material yet published—this
assumed Irish provenance was challenged. This article presents some extra-linguistic
evidence in support of the Irish provenance of both manuscripts, which has been suggested
on linguistic grounds, and appends a transcription of a previously unpublished devotional
item from MS Longleat 29. Keywords: Medieval Ireland; Richard Rolle; Longleat House
Marquess of Bath, MS 29; Oxford, Bodleian Library MS e Mus 232; Devotional Literature;
Irish Hagiography; Medieval Hiberno-English.
Resumen: En razón de criterios principalmente lingüísticos, se ha asumido desde hace
tiempo una conexión entre Longleat House, Marquess of Bath, MS 29 y Oxford, Bodleian
Library MS e Mus 232 con Irlanda. Sin embargo, este origen irlandés se cuestionó en la
edición de Ogilvie-Thomson para la E.E.T.S. (1988) de la prosa y verso de Richard Rolle en
Longleat 29—el análisis más extenso de este material publicado hasta la fecha. Este artículo
presenta material extralingüístico que apoya un origen irlandés para ambos manuscritos, tal
y como sugiere la evidencia lingüística, y añade en un apéndice la transcripción de un texto
devocional inédito de MS Longleat 29. Palabras clave: Irlanda medieval; Richard Rolle;
Longleat House Marquess of Bath, MS 29; Oxford, Bodleian Library MS e Mus 232;
Literatura devocional; Hagiografía irlandesa; Anglo-irlandés medieval.
he two manuscripts discussed here are linked not
only in their transmission of Rollean material in Medieval
Hiberno-English (hereafter MHE) and in their shared
preservation of two other devotional vernacular texts, but also, and
T
1
Research for this article was made possible by the award of a travel bursary
from the Society for the Study of Medieval Languages and Literature, here
gratefully acknowledged. My thanks also to Dr Kate Harris, Longleat House and
to the librarians in the Bodleian Library for facilitating access to the manuscripts
considered. I would like to record my gratitude to Dr Stephen Kelly, Dr Ryan
Perry and to the two anonymous readers at SELIM for their comments on draft
versions of this article and to thank Charles Roe for his kindness in checking a
number of references for material held in the Bodleian.
ISSN: 1132–631X
Kath Stevenson, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 199–235
Kath Stevenson
rather more pertinently, in that the main scribal hand of Longleat
29 is that of Bodleian e Mus 232.2 There are, as will be shown
below, good reasons for thinking that both these manuscripts
are Anglo-Irish productions; and in light of the importance of
Longleat 29 as a “major anthology” of Rollean material (Hanna
2010: xx), the Irish provenance of these manuscripts is worthy of
more consideration in terms of Anglophone literary culture in late
medieval Ireland than it has received hitherto.3
Longleat 29 is a miscellaneous compilation in 169 folios,4
containing theological and devotional material in Latin and English,
prose and verse.5 Dating from the second quarter of the fifteenth
century—a terminus a quo provided by the reference, in the final
text of the manuscript, to St. Lawrence’s night, 1422; and a terminus
ad quem of “not later than the middle of the century” indicated
on palaeographic grounds (Ogilvie-Thomson 1988: xxi)—the
manuscript measures c. 220 × c.165mm (155–167 × 100–115) and is
written throughout (except for some filler items and additions)6 in a
2
These manuscripts have received some published attention elsewhere, focused
almost exclusively on their Rollean contents. See Ogilvie-Thomson 1980; 1988.
See also Allen 1927, passim; and, on some of the problems in Ogilvie-Thomson’s
E.E.T.S. edition, Hanna 2010. Longleat 29, on account of its copy of the “Parson’s
Tale,” is also discussed by Manly & Rickert 1940.
3
The implications of the Anglo-Irish provenance of these (and several other
manuscripts containing Middle English texts in circulation in late medieval
Ireland) are discussed in Stevenson 2011.
4
Fols iii+163+iii, numbered 1–169.
5
A full description of the manuscript and its contents can be found in OgilvieThomson 1988: xvii–xxxi and in Hanna 2010: 208–212.
6
Of the subsidiary hands, hand 2, a “contemporary textura” is responsible for the
macaronic lyric on f. 3r, the Pentecostal Hymn “Veni creator spiritus” on f. 16v and
the Latin list of seven points to consider for the avoidance of sin on f. 57r. Hand
3, an “informal anglicana with secretary a,” dated by Hanna to s.xv2/2 (2010: 208)
has added the English lyrics (IMEV 3743 and Suppl. 2169) found on ff. 143v, 145r,
144r and 145v–146v.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
single, slightly rounded, anglicana hand. The second booklet of the
manuscript contains—in addition to a copy of the shorter version
of Walter Hilton’s Mixed Life, an English version of William Flete’s
De Remediis contra Temptaciones, a copy of Chaucer’s “Parson’s
Tale” (opening simply under the heading “Prima pars penitencie”),
and various other forms of confession and prayers—a substantial
collection of Rollean material in English. The Rollean work consists
of The Form of Living, Ego Dormio, The Commandment, Desire and
Delight, Ghostly Gladness, an excerpt from Meditation on the Passion
A, and various lyrics by Rolle, including Love is Life, Jesus God’s Son,
Thy joy be every deal, and All sins shall thou hate.”7 As such, Longleat
29 witnesses a substantial and important collection of vernacular
work by Rolle, which is, in its range, comparable to the extensive
Rollean material found in Lincoln, Cathedral Library, MS 91 (the
“Thornton manuscript”) and Cambridge, Cambridge University
Library MS Dd. v 64.8
Oxford, Bodleian Library MS e Mus 232, extant in its
(presumably original) fifteenth century binding of whittawed
leather over wooden boards, is, at 66 folios9 and c. 160 × 115mm
(125 × 80mm) a somewhat smaller volume than Longleat 29, and
its contents number only five items, all in the same anglicana hand
of the main scribe of Longleat 29. The first of these items is Rolle’s
Meditation on the Passion B, followed by a treatise on humility and
7
Ogilvie-Thomson argues that the lyric following “All sins shall thou hate”
in the Longleat MS, which begins “Ihesu swet nowe wil I synge” (IMEV 3238)
should also be attributed to Rolle (1988: lxxxix–xci). For some reservations as to
this argument, see Hanna (2010: xxiii).
8
Longleat 29 contains, in full or in part, seven of the sixteen vernacular Rolle
works that Hanna, following Allen, outlines as the canon of his vernacular
material. (2010: xviii–xix) This compares to six for CUL MS Dd.v.64, and seven
for Lincoln, Cathedral Library, MS 91.
9
The collation of the manuscript is vii+66+iv.
201
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Kath Stevenson
meekness, ascribed to St. Gregory and St. Bernard,10 an English
translation, by “Nicholas Bellew,” of Edmund Rich’s (Edmund
of Abington) Speculum ecclesie, and, concluding the volume, two
meditations on the passion, in verse and prose respectively. The
verse meditation on the passion (incipit: “[I]hesu þat hast me dere
j boght;” IMEV 1761) is accompanied by marginal crosses, and
introduced with a rubric “prescribing it as a devotional exercise”
(Woolf 1968: 164) which instructs the reader that they should:
[I]n seiynge of þis orisone stynteth and bydeth at euery cros
and þynketh what ye haue seide ffor a more deuout prayere
fond I neuer of the passioun who would so devoutly say hitte.
A “short popularisation” of the original vernacular translation of
John of Howden’s Philomena (Woolf 1968: 163) this meditative
poem survives in a number of manuscripts.11 A copy of the same
text, complete with the same prescriptive rubric, is found in
Longleat 29, and it is followed, in both manuscripts, by an English
prose meditation and prayers, (incipit: “[O] myghtful ihesu grete
was þe payne þat ȝe suffred”) witnessed only in Longleat 29 and e
Mus 232, and seemingly “inspired by the cult of the Five Wounds”
(Ogilvie-Thomson 1988: xxviii). There is little by way of internal
evidence for the date of e Mus 232, but given that the same scribe
is responsible for both manuscripts, it is reasonable to assume that
its date is roughly commensurate with that of Longleat 29, or
possibly, as the respective dates given in Hanna’s catalogue suggest,
slightly earlier.12
10
Hanna suggests that this item might, in fact, be comprised of two separate texts,
but, following Jolliffe G.19, treats them together in his list of the manuscript’s
contents (Hanna 2010: 170).
11
It is discussed further in Kelly & Thompson 2005 and Boffey 2005.
12
Ogilvie-Thomson suggests a date of c. 1430–1450 for both manuscripts. (1988:
xxi, xxxiiii) Hanna dates Longleat MS to “s.xv2/4 or med” and Bodleian, eMus
232 to “s.xv in” (2010: 170, 208).
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
In terms of the wider patterns of dissemination of manuscripts
containing Rolle’s works, the early to mid-fifteenth-century date
of both Longleat 29 and e Mus 232 is entirely typical, and would
seem to support Sargent’s elegantly formulated observation that
“the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries were the great age of
thirteenth- and fourteenth-century spirituality”13 (Sargent, cited
Barratt 2008: 361). Certainly, as Barratt notes, there are very few
extant Rollean manuscripts from pre-1400 (2008: 361), and when
the focus is further refined to manuscripts which contain copies
of Rolle’s vernacular works, the date of the two manuscripts in
question fits neatly with the increased circulation of Rollean works
in the first half of the fifteenth century.
A brief mention might be made here of the likely audience for
these vernacular Rollean materials. Whilst Rolle’s Latin works—the
works which established his national and international reputation—
were likely to have been intended for, and certainly reached, a literate
and educated clerical audience (Doyle 1953: 190; Barratt 2008: 361–
362), his vernacular writings were aimed rather at a predominantly
female audience and “for other unlettered Christians” (Hartung, cited
Barratt 2008: 362). And as Gillespie suggests (Gillespie 1989: 321):
The interests and abilities of the female religious for whom
Rolle was writing in the fourteenth century are in some
ways paradigmatic of those of the wider lay audience in the
fifteenth. Moreover, there is ample evidence that clerical
readers also came to value and exploit the resources of this
vernacular tradition of spiritual guidance.14
There is, in addition to the readers identified by Gillespie, further
evidence that “early Rolle manuscripts (both Latin and English)
13
Longleat 29’s copy of Hilton’s Mixed Life might also be noted in this context.
14
For this evidence, see Gillespie, 1989, and further references there cited. An
“interesting example of transfer from lay to clerical ownership” is found in the 1391
will of Sir William de Thorpe of Northamptonshire, in which he bequeathed to
his chaplain, Henry Hammond, “that book which Richard Heremit composed”
(Barratt 2008: 363; Allen 1927: 413)
203
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Kath Stevenson
belonged to various monastic orders, in England and on the
Continent” (Barratt 2008: 363). However, despite this, Manly and
Rickert’s early suggestion that Longleat 29 was “almost certainly
made in a monastery” (1940: 346) is perhaps open to challenge.
The provenance of the Longleat MS is discussed further below, but
both the date of Longleat 29 and its other contents are more likely
to suggest ownership by the laity, and Ogilvie-Thomson’s argument
that the manuscript probably belonged to a “devout lay family” is
here accepted (1988: xxxi). The likely original readership of Bodleian
e Mus 232 is perhaps similar, although the inscriptions of the names
of female readers—“Annes hemperby,” “Annes helperby” (twice)
and “Elyȝabethe Stoughton”—led Ogilvie-Thomson to speculate
on the possible later presence of the manuscript “in a community of
women” (1988: xxxii).15 However, again the date of the manuscript
in question may perhaps make lay ownership more likely.
As for the origin of these manuscripts, the primary evidence for
their provenance that has been discussed in previous scholarship is
linguistic. Both Longleat 29 and e Mus 232 are listed by McIntosh
and Samuels in the fourth category (“D”) of their seminal survey of
MHE, placed under the heading, “Unlocalized texts for which the
evidence of Irish provenance is wholly or mainly linguistic” (1968:
2).16 That both manuscripts evidence texts which are in MHE was
15
A similar suggestion—“possibly nuns”—is recorded in the relevant entry in the
LALME index of sources (1986: i.272).
16
The manuscripts in question are items 38 and 44 in their discussion. They
comment, “Some of the longest texts are the unlocalized ones of D: eight of
them include copies of works which originated in England and which, according
to common later ME practice, were ‘translated’ by their copyist. Yet the list of
features that can be complied from the evidence of A, [“[L]ocalized documents”],
B [“[T]exts for which there is some evidence of localization”] and C [“Unlocalized
texts dealing with Irish matters or having other Irish associations, the language
of which confirms that provenance”] is so distinctive that the provenance of these
longer texts is left in no doubt” (McIntosh & Samuels 1968: 4). The linguistic
features they identify as characteristic of MHE are here reproduced in Appendix B.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
accepted in LALME, where, in the case of Bodleian e Mus 232, the
dialect was further localised to Dublin, on the basis of a detailed
linguistic analysis of the entire manuscript (LALME, I: 272, 274).
The dialectal analysis of the texts of both manuscripts offered by
McIntosh and Samuels and in LALME is here accepted, as it is by
Hanna, in his descriptive catalogue of the English manuscripts of
Richard Rolle, where both books in question were noted by him
as “central exhibits in the formulation of Middle Hiberno English”
(Hanna 2010: 171) and by Thompson, “[b]oth [manuscripts] were
largely copied by the same main scribe writing in a HibernoEnglish dialect that (similarly to that of the much earlier copyist
of BL, MS Harley 913) preserves underlying South-East Midland
forms” (2011: 272).17
By contrast, however, the extent to which the dialect of the
vernacular texts in Longleat 29 and e Mus 232 should be seen
as representing MHE was questioned by Ogilvie-Thomson, who
summarised her linguistic analysis of the dialect as follows (OgilvieThomson 1988: xxxiv–xxxv):
On linguistic evidence Professors McIntosh and Samuels
classify the dialect of Lt [Longleat 29] and Mu [e Mus 232]
as Anglo-Irish. They list thirty distinguishing features of this
dialect, any of which can and does appear in other dialects,
but which cumulatively argue Anglo-Irish provenance. In
Lt five of these features never occur; ten, predominantly of a
phonological nature, occur regularly; in the rest, predominantly
morphological, the scribe shows such marked inconsistency
17
BL, Harley 913 is listed in the second category of McIntosh and Samuels’s
survey, “B: Texts for which there is some evidence of localization” (1968: 2). The
Irish provenance of this manuscript has been accepted since the appearance of
Heuser’s edition in 1904. The cumulative import of the MHE features identified
by McIntosh and Samuels in the vernacular items in Longleat 29 and in e Mus
232 seems, to me, convincing.
205
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Kath Stevenson
that it appears he was prepared to adopt whatever forms he
found in his copy. […]18
The sum of these features points to the standard fifteenthcentury literary language19 based on the East Midland
dialect⒮, with a sprinkling of South-Eastern forms, The
scribe’s flexibility in all but a few of the Anglo-Irish criteria
18
Ogilvie-Thomson identifies the following as the most significant characteristics
of the language of Lt’s main scribe:
The reflex of OE ā normally appears as o, but a is found occasionally in texts of
Northern origin, as Rolle: haly, and, particularly in rhyme, lare, mare, sare.
OE ă before a simple nasal is regularly a; before a lengthening group both a and
o are found.
OE y normally appears as y or i, but u is found occasionally in bury, thurst-, lust v.,
þurleden, cusset, cluster, and e in iberiet, mery, euel, besy.
The preferred vowel in unstressed inflexional syllables is e; i/y is frequent in the
gen. sg., especially Goddis, Cristis, but very rare in the p.p.
The normal pr.2 sg,ind, ending is -est, but there are eleven occurrences of -s in
the Rolle texts. Normal pr. 3 sg.ind, is -eth, occasionally reduced to -et, with two
occurrences of -s in Rolle texts.
Pr.pl.ind. shows both -eth, -en, and no ending, the preference varying from text
to text although -eth predominates in the Rolle texts. Similar variation is seen in
the use of -n in the strong p.p., it is preferred in the Rolle texts. Infinitives in -n
are relatively infrequent.
Pr.p. is regularly -ynge, even when rhyming on -and.
The 3rd pl.nom.pron. is regularly þay (variously spelt); acc./dat. ham, less
frequently hem, with only one occurrence of thaym; gen. har(e), less frequently
her(e), and three occurrences of þar.
Initial sh- is always spelt as such. Medially it varies between sh and ssh, very rarely
sch. Occasionally s(s)h is found for ss, as in mysshe, “miss” n. and v. rhyming on isse.
The initial consonant in “give” and related forms is predominantly y, but g occurs
sporadically throughout.
Earlier ht is spelt both ght and ȝt, and initial [j] both y and ȝ; in both cases Mu
prefers the ȝ forms.
[…] It is clear [the scribe] was prepared to interchange medial i and y, unstressed
e and y, final d and t, and initial and final þ and th, and that final –e had no
inflexional significance.
19
The extent to which there was a “standard fifteenth-century literary language”
might, perhaps, be challenged.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
suggests that he had left his native country some time before,
retaining only traces of his original linguistic habits.20
However, the grounds on which Ogilvie-Thomson reached her
conclusions as to the scribal dialect of Longleat 29 and e Mus 232
are perhaps open to question.
The manner in which Ogilvie-Thomson applies the criteria
identified by McIntosh and Samuels—criteria whose validity
she does not question (1980: 85)—to her analysis of the scribe’s
dialect seems unnecessarily rigid. The typical features of MHE
20
The analysis offered by Ogilvie-Thomson in her edition of the Rollean works
in Longleat 29 and e Mus 232 (the base manuscripts for her E.E.T.S. edition)
stems from the edition of the English works in Longleat 29 that constituted
her doctoral thesis, and a fuller discussion of the dialect of the main scribe of
Longleat 29 is to be found there (1980: 84–87). The accuracy of the data collected
by Ogilvie-Thomson is, it should be stressed, not being disputed, but there
are perhaps, problems with her application of this data. In her thesis, OgilvieThomson initially focuses her analysis of the applicability of the criteria noted by
McIntosh and Samuels for the identification of MHE to the dialect of Longleat
29 by examining the second text found in the manuscript (an anonymous prose
treatise) where she thought it likely that the scribe was translating as he wrote. In
her analysis of this text, she argued that fewer than half the common features of
MHE were present. However, at c. 350 lines in length, the text selected for the
detailed examination, whilst not negligible, is not particularly extensive, as the
lack of examples for a quarter or more of the main criteria identified by McIntosh
and Samuels suggests. The assumption that the anonymous prose treatise
(unknown elsewhere) was being directly translated, rather than simply copied, by
the scribe, and thus is an especially accurate reflection of his own dialect is also
problematic. So to, perhaps, is the location of the item chosen for this detailed
analysis, close to the beginning of the first booklet, as the dialectal anomalies
outlined by Ogilvie-Thomson might simply attest to a period of scribal “workingin”—a reasonably common phenomenon in copying practice (Benskin & Laing
1981). Perhaps most disconcerting for her argument is the fact that, on the basis
of her own analysis, and by her own admission, the dialect of Ogilvie-Thomson’s
“Text II” is not particularly representative of that of the rest of the manuscript, in
which a much greater ratio of MHE features are found: “linguistically, the ratio of
Anglo-Irish features is somewhat improved in the rest of the manuscript, some of
them appearing some of the time in all of the texts” (1980: 86).
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Kath Stevenson
identified by McIntosh and Samuels were drawn from texts that
ranged quite widely in date, and represented the dialect of various
parts of Anglophone late medieval Ireland. Not every single item
they cite will be witnessed in any given MHE text, as can be
readily demonstrated by analysis of the texts for which an Irish
provenance is not in doubt. Rather, it is the cumulative import of
these features that enables a dialectal identification to be made. In
this light, it should be noted that in relation to the dialect of the
vernacular texts in Longleat 29 as a whole, according to OgilvieThomson’s own analysis (1980: 84–87), of the twenty criteria
identified by McIntosh and Samuels as “the more important” in
identifying MHE (1968: 4–5; reproduced in Appendix B): nine of
the twenty are always present: (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (9), (10), (16)
and (17);21 a further two are the predominant forms: (1), (2); four
are frequently, but not consistently found: (8), (14), (15), and (20);
two occur sometimes: (11), (12); two rarely: (13), (19); and only
one: (18) never occurs. Of the eleven further features they identity
as “frequent but not universal:”22 one: (7) is always present; two:
(1) and (8) occur sometimes; a further three: (4a), (5) and (6) are
found rarely; and five: (2), (3), (4b), (9), (10) never occur. Nineteen
of the twenty more important dialectal features, therefore, are
found in the vernacular contents of Longleat 29. Obviously, the
dialectal features of a text need bear no necessary relation to the
provenance of the manuscript where it is found: linguistic profiles
cannot, and should not, be conflated with manuscript provenance,
but McIntosh and Samuels’s identification of the scribal dialect
as MHE seems, to the writer, more convincing than OgilvieThomson’s hypothesis of a “native” dialect diluted by considerable
time in England.
21
With regard to (17): “Final -e has no morphological significance,” I would
accept Ogilvie-Thomson’s observation that this is not particularly significant in
light of the late date of the manuscript.
22
I here treat the features they number as (4a) and (4b) separately.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
Allen, considering the Rollean works in Longleat 29 in her 1927
study, offered no speculation as to the manuscript’s provenance,
focusing rather on textual issues in the works by Rolle it
transmitted. Longleat 29 was studied further by Manly and Rickert
in the descriptions of the manuscripts that formed the first of their
eight-volume study of the text of the Canterbury Tales (although
it is by no means clear if Longleat’s copy of the “Parson’s Tale” was
recognised as such by either the scribe or the early readers of the
manuscript). As their interest was in the Chaucerian text, Manly
and Rickert, in accordance with the procedure explicated in their
preface, mentioned only what they felt were the more notable items
in the manuscript, but they offered the first suggestion as to the
manuscript’s origin (Manly & Rickert 1940: 346):
The compilation almost certainly was made in a monastery—
perhaps Christchurch, Canterbury […]—by a number of
monks, one beginning the principal book, others adding the
smaller books that precede and follow, and still others filling
in blank spaces with short pieces, quotations and so on.
In positing Longleat 29 as a monastic production, Manly and
Rickert were influenced by their belief that the main texts of
manuscript were the work of multiple hands—an assessment
that has not been borne out by subsequent examinations of the
manuscript by, amongst others, expert palaeographers such as Neil
Ker (Ogilvie-Thomson 1988: xv, xxx). In total, only three hands are
to be identified in the manuscript. The slightly rounded anglicana
of the main scribe is responsible for the overwhelming majority of
the manuscript’s contents, with two subsidiary scribes responsible
only for two lyrics on fol 143v–146v (Hand 3) and three Latin filler
items on fols 3v, 16v, and 57r (Hand 2). The appearance of the
main scribal hand does undergo slight changes in the course of his
copying, becoming rather more “relaxed” towards the end of the
manuscript, but it is still recognisable both as the same hand of the
earlier sections of Longleat 29, and as that of Bodleian e Mus 232.
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Given their assumption that the manuscript was likely to be
a monastic production, and following the lead provided by the
addition of the name “Goldwell” on f. 168r in a fifteenth-century
hand, Manly and Rickert postulated that Longleat 29 might have
been produced at Christchurch Cathedral, Canterbury (Manly &
Rickert 1940: 347):
On f. 168 is the name “Joh[s] Goldew[e?]ll (15 C), written as an
owner might write; and cf. “…d.wel” on f.4. The family name
[Goldwell] is closely linked with Canterbury—Goldwells held
lands in the 15 C at Fawkham and Bethersden—and with
Christchurch particularly: J. Goldwell was third prior in
1435 […]; a John Goldwell was monk and sacristan […]; and
others were there in the early 16 C. The succession of names,
together with the obvious continuation of the of the MS from
time to time by different writers, suggests that it may all have
been the work of different members of the same family.
Which John wrote his name in the MS it is impossible to
say; he may have been not any of the Canterbury monks but
a layman of the same family. James Goldwell, who died in
1498 as Bishop of Norwich, is identified by wills and property
transactions as a member of the Kentish family […] and was
nephew, brother, uncle, and great uncle of men named John
Goldwell.
In this assessment, Manly and Rickert are, perhaps, at risk of
conflating the origin of the manuscript with a suggestion as to
its early provenance, a conflation made all the more tempting in
terms of the larger project in which they were engaged. As OgilvieThomson observes (1988: xxx–xxxi):
[Manly and Rickert’s] collation showed the [Longleat 29] text
of the Parson’s Tale to be from an immediate common ancestor
with the Ellesmere MS, but without the latter’s editing, and
so of high textual value, and it was for this reason they were
anxious to place the manuscript in the environs of Canterbury,
and correctly identified members of the Goldwell family who
held office in the priory there. However the manuscript shows
none of the palaeographic characteristics of a Canterbury text,
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
and although the link with the Goldwells remains valid, this
is an indication of ownership rather than origin.
Ogilvie-Thomson, although rejecting an Irish provenance on the
dialectal grounds discussed above, offered no alternative suggestion
as to the place of the manuscript’s origin. Her research into the
later ownership of Longleat 29 showed that the manuscript was
in the possession of Sir John Thynne, “first knight of the name,
and builder of Longleat house” by 1577 at the latest. Not only
does Thynne’s name occur, in his own hand, on ff. 2r and 166r,
but she was able to identify Longleat 29 with an entry in the 1577
manuscript list of the contents of his library; and to suggest a
possible (if necessarily speculative) scenario for the transmission
of the manuscript from John Goldwell, a mercer and citizen of
London (d. 1466) into the possession of John Thynne (1988: xx).
As Hanna notes, the dialect of the third scribal hand, placed
by LALME in northeast Somerset, and dated by him to the latter
half of the fifteenth century, would support the supposition that
the manuscript was in the Longleat area in this period (LALME
I: 137, 237; Hanna 2010: 211–212). However, even if the dialect of
the third scribal hand is accepted as indicative of the whereabouts
of the manuscript in the later fifteenth-century, the manuscript’s
relatively early presence in south west England need not preclude
the Irish origin suggested dialectally by the work of the main
scribe: an Irish origin accepted by Hanna (2010: xxix).
There is, however, extra-linguistic evidence to support the
Irish provenance suggested dialectally. The textual affiliations of
a number of the items in Longleat 29 are potentially of interest
in this respect, but constraints of space prevent their discussion
here. Instead, the suggestive contents of a single item from the
compilation will be examined, and its implications for the likely
provenance of the volume considered. The item in question, an
anonymous exposition on the Lord’s Prayer, incorporating a litany
that names a number of Irish saints, and a concluding prayer in
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Kath Stevenson
English,23 has never (to the writer’s knowledge) been published;
a semi-diplomatic transcription, from this, the only manuscript
in which it appears, can be found in Appendix A.24 The item is,
of course, of intrinsic interest, but in the context of the present
study, the evidence suggesting localisation to an Irish audience is
of primary importance.
As can be seen from the transcription, the item is structured
around the Latin text of the Lord’s Prayer, and proceeds through
it, phrase by phrase, offering a translation of the Latin and
devout, first person expositions of each. Following on from this
(and judging from the layout of the manuscript, intended to be
incorporated into it) is a final prayer, invoking the sign of the cross,
and addressed, in accordance with the structure of the Sarum Use,
to the three persons of the Trinity, the Virgin, and to the holy
prophets, patriarchs, apostles, evangelists, martyrs, confessors,
and virgins. The text of the latter section is punctuated in the
manuscript by the regular insertion of crosses, presumably serving
as a prompt for a reader to perform the sign of the cross.25
Three aspects of this text might be seen to support the idea
that the manuscript was produced for an Irish audience. Firstly,
23
My interpretation of the materials that constitute this text is at odds with that
offered by Hanna, who describes it “an English tract on the Pater noster (ends. fol.
21) […] with two English prayers naming several Irish saints (fols. 21v–22)” (2010:
209) However, the list of Irish saints is, as I read it, incorporated into the body of
the tract, which I suggest to end on fol. 21v; and to be followed by a single prayer
invoking the sign of the cross. The item is immediately followed by a Latin version
of the same (fols. 22r–24v) which is “similar, but not identical” (Ogilvie-Thomson
1989: xxiii) and which Hanna characterises as “the Latin source” (2010: 209).
24
The item was edited by Ogilvie-Thomson for her doctoral thesis (1980: 208–
229). The transcription and discussion offered here are independent of OgilvieThomson’s work.
25
Cf. the copy of IMEV 1761, mentioned above, and found in both Longleat 29
and e Mus 232, which have crosses, identical to those of the current item, inserted
in the margins alongside the text.
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
and perhaps least significantly, there is, in the exposition of the
second petition of the Lord’s Prayer, a shift from the heavenly to
the temporal realm, in which Ireland is explicitly mentioned:
[fol 19v] ¶ To these prayers
the state & prosperitee of al holy chirche our holy
fadre the pope hys Cardynals. his Consaill. our
bisshop our curates withal degrees in holy church
[fol 20r]
our kynge the quene the Gouernour of this land with al
har trewe consaill. The estate & prosperite of the roialmes
of England Irland & Fraunce Al tho that peeȝ maynteneth
& trewe peple defendeth. my Fadre my modre sowles
my bretheren my sustres my kyn alliaunces al my good
frendes and in especial I. b. I. I. A. K ¶
The grouping of “England, Ireland and France”26 here might well
be formulaic, although the phrase does not seem particularly well
attested in other texts of the period, but it is interesting that it
follows the reference to “our king, the queen, the governor of this
land,” which is strongly suggestive of an Irish context. The role of
Chief Governor was, at this date, an administrative post unique to
Ireland, modelled on the role of Justiciar established in twelfthcentury England, although no longer operative there by the reign
of Edward I. In Ireland however, the need to have a permanent
head of the administration, governing on behalf of an absent king
remained; and whilst the title came to be more commonly known
as “Lieutenant,” or “Chief Lieutenant” rather than “Justiciar” by
the late fourteenth / early fifteenth century, the role was essentially
the same.27 Given the very personal nature of the section of the
prayer that follows, it seems that the references to “Ireland” and
to the “Gouernour” might have more than a formulaic resonance
26
The same petition occurs in the Latin version of the text immediately following
in the manuscript.
27
For details of the role, and its development from the model of English
administration, see Otway-Ruthven 1965.
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Kath Stevenson
with the author of this item and, one assumes, to the scribe who
copied it (if the two are not one and the same). If the scribe was
simply copying the piece from an exemplar, it seems unlikely that
details such as the initials of individuals would be thoughtlessly
transcribed, when they could so readily be substituted with details
more relevant to the owner or users of the volume.
More suggestive still of an Irish provenance are the details of the
exposition of the third, fourth and fifth phrases of the Pater noster,
which incorporates a litany of saints.28 The majority of the saints
occurring in this litany are widely known (most, in fact, appear in
the Sarum Use), but following the fifth Latin phrase, there occurs
a cluster of saints with very specific local associations.
[f. 20v]
Et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut & nos dimittimus
debitoribus nostris ¶ O lord god of pitte mercy & of grace
foryeve vs our dettes our synnes & our trespasses
as we foryeven to oure dettors. lord of amendes þu graunt
vs space. Of charite þu let vs nat mysshe of thy blisse þu
graunt vs solace throgh þe swet callynge & bisy besechynge
of thi clere & holy confessours. Syluestre leo. hiller Nicholas
Martyn. Ambrose. Ierom Gregorie & Austeyn dunston
swythyn Cuthbert & Birryn German dompnic Fran
ceys & leonard Benet Esmond & Bernard Patrike Fyn
nyan Columbe Canik & Brandane Molynge Synok
Keuyn & Lasriane Machot Abbane Euyn & Colman And
al other Confessours of Cristes Courte in perfite Charite
stalle vs of holy conscience sharpe compunccioun verray
contricioun hool confessioun ful satisfaccioun & of al oure
synnes ful pardoun þrogh al yor holy intercessioun let vs nat
mysshe bot vs al brynge to þy heuynly habitacioun. Amen
28
The details of the saints included vary between the English and Latin versions,
and even when the same saint is mentioned in both, the placing in the text can
differ. SS. “Cithe” and David occur only in the Latin text; SS. Bernard, Canice,
Esmund [sic] (twice), Helen, “Machot” and Otilli, only in the English.
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
Of the thirteen final saints named in the litany, the identity of
“Machot” is uncertain, but the rest of the saints in this cluster have
distinctly Irish connections, predominantly, but not exclusively,
to Leinster. Patrick and Columba are, of course, as two of the
three patron saints of Ireland, neither obscure, nor peculiar to
Leinster, but a notable proportion of the other saints mentioned,
if the identifications suggested below are correct, do have a very
local resonance with the province in which it is here argued that
Longleat 29 was written.
St Finnian was the founder of the famous Abbey at Clonard,
historically in the province of Meath, but by the post-Norman
period incorporated into Leinster,29 and as Farmer notes, his
Leinster connections are emphasised in his tenth-century life (1987:
161). Reputed to be the tutor of “The Twelve Apostles of Ireland”
Finnian is counted one of the principal saints of Ireland, and is, in
tradition, ascribed (along with St Patrick) the role of judge of the
Irish on Doomsday (Ó Riain 2011: 319).30 Legend has it that as a
youth St Senach first came to Clonard as part of a raiding party but
thanks to Finnian’s “shrewd and prompt action in tonsuring [him]”
he later succeeded Finnian as abbot (Hughes 1954: 23).
SS. Abban (Abán), Kevin (Coemgen, Caoimhghin) and Moling
are, according to the biographer of the former, the three sons of
Leinster “of eternal life” whose birth was prophesied by Patrick.
Abban’s primary associations are with Adamstown, Co. Wexford
and with Killabban, Co. Laois; the sites of his two main foundations
(Ó Riain 2011: 51–52). Kevin, descended in tradition from a noble
Leinster family, was the founder and abbot of Glendalough, Co.
Wickow, whose tomb became one of the chief places of pilgrimage
29
See Hughes 1954.
30
It is possible that the reference here is to Finnian of Movilla, rather than to
Finnian of Clonard, although given the Leinster connections of many of the saints
in this cluster, reference to the latter seems more probable. The associations of
Finnian of Movilla are primarily with Ulster (Ó Riain 2011: 323).
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Kath Stevenson
in Ireland, deemed “important enough to be regarded as one of
four Irish equals of Rome” (Ó Riain 2011: 148–150; Farmer 1987:
123). St Moling spent time as a monk in Kevin’s foundation of
Glendalough before establishing his own monastery, St Mullin’s, in
Carlow. Fittingly, as one of Leinster’s chief saints, he was popularly
believed to have been buried with Patrick, Columba and Brigid in
Downpatrick. Clyn’s Annals record how, when the Black Death first
appeared in Ireland in the autumn of 1348, thousands gathered at
his foundation “to wade in the water” in an effort to gain protection
from the plague (Williams 2007: 246–247; Stokes 1906).
A protégé of St Abban, St Evin (Éimhín) is, despite his
purported Munster heritage, also particularly venerated in Leinster;
his primary association being with Monasterevin, Co. Kildare.
According to the Life of Abban, he was buried in New Ross, Co.
Wexford (Ó Riain 2011: 291–292).
SS Canice, Laserian and Brendan are three of the “Twelve
Apostles of Ireland” reputed to have studied under Finnian at
Clonard. Born in Derry, St Canice (in Scotland, “St Kenneth”)
was an Irish abbot, whose principal foundation was the monastery
of Aghaboe, Co. Laois “became the most important church of
Ossory” (Farmer 1987: 72). Laserian (Laisren, Molaise) is, like
Canice, venerated in both Ireland and Scotland. Abbot of Leighlin,
Co. Carlow, his church gained diocesan status at the synod of
Rathbreasial “which led to the founding there of a house of canons
regular of St Augustine and, ultimately, to the composition of the
Life of St Molaise preserved in fragmentary form in the Salamancan
codex” (O’Riain 2011: 486). His present-day cult is centred on his
foundation of Inishmurray, Co. Sligo (Farmer 1987: 256).
The reference to St Brendan is perhaps likely to be to Brendan
(Brandon) the Navigator (i.e. Brendan of Clonfert), although it
could also be to Brendan of Birr. Due in no small part to the
influence of the Navigatio Brendani, Brendan’s cult was strong
throughout Ireland and, indeed, beyond, being particularly
venerated in regions of Scotland, Wales and Brittany.
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
Finally, it is by no means certain as to which of the hundreds
of homonymous saints mentioned in the Irish martyrologies the
Longleat St Colman refers, but given the predominance of saints
with Leinster associations in this section of the text, the reference
is possibly to St Colman of Clonard; like Senach, a successor of
Finnian as abbot (Ó Riain 2011: 184; Hughes 1954: 21, n. 43).
Just as the initials and details of the previous quotation were
identified as features of the text that were easily adaptable to a
new copying context, so too could the local saints listed in this
item (if it is not a scribal composition) have been readily changed
to better suit the locality in which (or for which) the text was
copied. The wording of the text would not be marred in any way
by the substitution of one saint for another in the process of local
adaptation suggested, and its devotional efficacy might even be
thought enhanced by “personalization” of this kind. As such, the
inclusion or retention of the local saints listed in the text supports
the Irish origin for the manuscript indicated on linguistic grounds.31
There was, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, as André
Vauchez has demonstrated in his magisterial study of sainthood
in the later Middle Ages,32 a marked shift towards the veneration
of local saints in lay devotion, irrespective of whether or not the
subjects of their petitions had been officially canonised by the
31
The saints listed in the corresponding section of the Latin version of this text
are “Siluestri, Leonis, Hillarii, Martini, Patricii, Nicholasi, Ambrosii, Ieronimi,
Gregorii, Augustini, Leonardi, Germani, Swythini, Cuthberti, Dauid, Columbe,
Dominici, Fyniani, Francisci, Molingi, Brandani, Cinoci, Dunstani, Keuini, Euini,
Colmani, Abbani, Lasriani” [f. 23v]. Of interest also is the inclusion of St “Cithe”
in the Latin version (other than Brigit, the only female Irish saint mentioned.
Patent Roll 36 Henry VI, dated Dublin, 3rd February 1458, records a warrant to a
“John Chevir” “giving him licence to found a chantry of one or two chaplains in
honour of St Cithe the Virgin at the altar of St Cithe in the church of St Michan
in the town of Oxmantown in the suburbs of Dublin.” (http://chancery.tcd.ie/
document/patent/36-henry-vi/4).
32
The period which “marked the apogee of the diffusion and popularity of the
cult of saints in the west” (Vauchez 1997: 1).
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Kath Stevenson
Church.33 It is perhaps worth noting that over half of the Irish
saints named in this item from Longleat are also to be found in the
Latin Kalender of the composite C13–C14 manuscript belonging
to the brethren of St. John of Jerusalem, Waterford; and further
examples of these saints appearing in devotional material from
Ireland could doubtless be cited.34 Admittedly, it is possible, as
Ogilvie-Thomson’s argument would imply, that the inclusion of
these Irish saints reflects merely the patriotic devotional preferences
of an Anglo-Irish scribe working in England. However, given the
performative aspect of the text,35 it seems more plausible to assume
that the wording is applicable also to the wider audience for whose
use the manuscript was intended: perhaps the “devout lay family”
suggested by Ogilvie-Thomson (1988: xxxi).
One further detail from the text, found in the exposition of “Et
ne nos inducas in temptationem” might be mentioned in support
of a Irish provenance for the manscript:
[f. 21r] O holy fader Patrike oure
patroun with Columb & bride whose bones resten in doune
And al seyntes suynge your trace pray þe the pierles prince
of paradise that of al wiked wormes this lond wedet
that he endeigne for his dignite & his mercy which his
werkes passeth. Þe destruers of his trewe peple may
approwe in þi pees perfitly to þi plesaunce amen
The phrasing of “oure patroun” and “this lond” in relation to St.
Patrick, again hints at an assumption of an Irish audience. Whether
33
Vauchez 1997. See especially chapter 10, “Local Sainthood,” 157–249.
34
For details of this manuscript, see James 1912: ii.277. The relevant saints are:
Patricii, Brendini, Columbe, Moling, Colmani, Finneani, Senani, and possibly, if it
equates to Longleat’s “Machot,” Machin.
35
The insertion of crosses in this section of the text is reminiscent of the
instructional rubric appended to the copy of IMEV 1761 in both the Longleat and
the e Mus manuscripts which urges the reader to “stynteth and bydeth at euery
cros and þynketh what ye haue seide.” See Kelly & Thompson 2005: 2–5.
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
or not the details of the translations of SS. Columba and Bridget
to Downpatrick need imply a particularly local knowledge, the
specific naming of the country’s three patron saints are certainly
indicative of an identification with Ireland.36
Given then, both the MHE dialect of the vernacular texts of
Longleat 29, and the details of localisation or adaptation to an
Irish audience outlined in the item discussed above, the obvious
conclusion to draw would be that the manuscript is an AngloIrish production. The scenario postulated by Ogilvie-Thomson
(explicitly in relation to the dialect; implicitly in relation to the
exposition on the Lord’s Prayer)—that the manuscript is the work
of a scribe trained in Anglo-Ireland, but resident in England for
a considerable period of time, yet maintaining a patriotic affection
for the country of his birth, as manifested in his petitioning of
local Irish saints—seems perhaps unnecessarily complex, especially
as there is no evidence whatsoever to preclude the original
composition and circulation of Longleat 29 in Ireland.
In e Mus 232, the other manuscript known to have been copied
by the main scribe of Longleat 29, there is no evidence of the
sort of localisation discussed above. As noted previously, little is
known about the origin or early provenance of this manuscript,
and its attribution to Ireland has been on dialectal grounds only. If,
however, the argument made here for the Irish origin of Longleat
29 is accepted, then it seems almost certain that e Mus 232 is also
an example of the literary culture of Anglophone late medieval
Ireland, and there are two further, although tantalizingly nebulous
hints that might possibly offer further support for this attribution.
On f. 62r, at the conclusion of the copy of St. Edmund’s Mirror,
the English translation of which is, in this manuscript, attributed
to “Nicholas Bellow whose noun konnygne haue ye excused,” is the
36
Cf. the marginal additions on f. 72v of Oxford, Bodleian MS Rawlinson B 490,
among which are “In vno brigida patricius atque columba ?primus” (cited LALME,
i: 279).
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Kath Stevenson
signature “Jon Flemmyn,” in red ink and in a contemporary hand.
The same name, “Johannes Fleming” occurs twice in the opening
folios of the copy of the Prick of Conscience found in Dublin,
TCD MS 156: “Johannes Fleming hunc librum composuit” (f. 1v,
repeated f. 4v). In the Dublin manuscript, the name is written in
a seventeenth-century hand, and Lewis and McIntosh, in their
descriptive catalogue of the Prick of Conscience manuscripts, take
this to refer to the copyist who, in the same later hand, transcribed
the incipit and first 22 1/2 lines of the medieval text from f. 2r,
which is obliterated almost entirely by gall stain (1982: 51–52).
However, it is not entirely clear, as Ogilvie-Thomson points out,
that “Johannes Fleming” is to be identified as the person responsible
for the C17 copying—“a page and a half of text scarcely seems to
justify the description ‘hunc librum’ ” (1988: xxxii, n. 5), and it
is possible that the attribution in the seventeenth-century hand
might record an earlier, now illegible, name from the manuscript.
Although accepted as such by both Allen (1927: 382) and Hanna
(2010: 170), the hand of the signature in e Mus 232 was not judged
by Neil Ker to be that of the scribe. Nor was the hand of the e Mus
232 signature deemed by R. E. Alton (on the grounds of differences
in minim formation) to be that of the scribe of TCD 156 (OgilvieThomson 1988: xxxii). However, the name is the only text in the
entire manuscript to be written in red, and Ogilvie-Thomson
suggests, in light of the fact that the point in the manuscript
at which the signature appears is the same point at which the
rubrication ends, that “Jon Flemmyn” may have been the rubricator
of e Mus 232 (1988: xxxii). If the seventeenth-century ascription in
TCD 156 is to someone involved in the original copying of the
manuscript, then the same name appears in two manuscripts of the
same date, both written in a form of MHE localised in LALME to
Dublin. The extra-linguistic reasons for accepting TCD 156 as an
Irish production include evidence of its presence in Dublin by the
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220
Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
sixteenth century at the latest37 and a slight, but noteworthy, lexical
substitution in Book VI of the poem, in which the “Rome” of
Morris’s edition of the Prick of Conscience (VI, 6614) is replaced with
“deuelyn,” i. e. Dublin (f. 99v, line 10).38 Whilst there is no hard
evidence to confirm the suggestion, it is tempting to consider the
presence of the name “Jon Fleming” in two early fifteenth-century
Anglophone Irish manuscripts as more than merely coincidental.
The second piece of extra-linguistic evidence supporting the
Irish provenance of e Mus 232 also pertains to the manuscript’s
copy of St. Edmund’s Mirror, specifically to what seems to be
its attribution to a named translator: Nicholas Bellew. A search
of TCD’s “A Calendar of Irish Chancery Letters c. 1244–1509”39
produces a single record for the name Nicholas Bellew, dated 10th
October 1423, from Close Roll 2 of Henry VI, and the following
summary of the Chancery letter in which his name appears:
To the constable of Trim castle
James Younge has pleaded to the K. that―as he has been
held in irons in great duress [in ferris in magna duricia] for
three quarters of a year in the castle [of Trim] and has not
been brought forth to answer contrary to law and reason, and
he is still detained―he might be brought by sufficient surety
to Dublin castle, to be judged according to common law.
ORDER to deliver James without delay to Nicholas Bellew
to be brought to Dublin castle, by mainprize of John More
37
That the manuscript was definitely in Ireland by the sixteenth century is
demonstrated by the presence in the margin of f. 78r of a sixteenth-century copy
of a Latin writ, from the reign of Henry VIII, addressed to the Sheriff of Dublin,
and requiring attendance at the court of Irish Exchequer at Dublin. A later note,
on f. 1r–v, referring to the year 1618, is a deed, made in Dublin, referencing James
Ware and Matthew Tirrel; and witnessed by a “White,” a “Criffe” (?) and one
“William Blauer” (LALME, i: 77; Lewis & McIntosh 1982: 51–52).
38
The substitution is noted in LALME, i: 77 and discussed more fully in Benskin
1997: 94.
39
http://chancery.tcd.ie/document/close/2-henry-vi/40.
221
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Kath Stevenson
merchant, William Sprot, John Pakerell and John Taath of
Dublin, for his safe conduct.
Intriguingly, then, at roughly the same time in which the attribution
of the translation of Edmund Rich’s work to Nicholas Bellew in e
Mus 232 is written, a Nicholas Bellew is recorded as an eminent
citizen of Dublin, entrusted to take charge of James Yonge, the selfstyled “notary imperial, and the least of the writers and citizens of
Dublin” (cited Seymour 1970: 135) who, in 1422, and at the request
of his patron, James Butler, Earl of Ormond and Viceroy in Ireland,
made a translation of the Secreta Secretorum. If the Nicholas Bellew
named as the translator in e Mus 232 is accepted as likely to be
the same Nicholas Bellew referred to in the Chancery letter, then
there is evidence for locating him in Dublin in the first quarter
of the fifteenth-century. This is, in itself, enough to support the
Irish provenance of e Mus 232 suggested on linguistic grounds;
independent of the extra-linguistic evidence outlined above for the
Irish provenance of its scribe’s other known manuscript, Longleat 29.
If the evidence presented above is accepted, then the Irish
provenance indicated dialectally of the two manuscripts discussed
is assured. What then, are the implications of this provenance for
considerations of Anglophone literary culture in late medieval
Ireland? I have suggested elsewhere that Anglophone works in
late medieval Ireland (certainly in general accounts) have received
relatively little critical attention from a literary, rather than linguistic
perspective.40 Moreover, the attention they have received—Dolan
1991 and 1999; Bliss 1984; Bliss & Long 1987—has, by virtue of
where these accounts appear, been explicitly weighed towards a key
concern of literary scholarship concerning MHE materials: that
is, in Dolan’s formulation, of “original works related specifically to
Ireland” (1999: 223).41 The preoccupation in these accounts with
40
Stevenson 2011.
41
The discussion offered by Thompson (2011) brings a useful perspective to bear
on these materials.
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
original works—in practice, more often than not, the Anglophone
contents of British Library MS Harley 91342—is understandable, but
it serves, perhaps, to overshadow some of the other extant evidence
for Anglophone reading communities in late medieval Ireland. In
contrast to the alterity of cultural identity which is emphasised in
such accounts, the evidence of Longleat 29 and Bodleian e Mus
232, in conjunction with that of other manuscripts of demonstrable
Irish provenance containing copies of Middle English texts (such as
Dublin, Trinity College MS 156 [the Prick of Conscience] or Oxford,
Bodleian Library MS Douce 104 [Piers Plowman]) draws attention
to some of the commonalities of late medieval reading communities
on either side of the Irish Sea. In doing so, this evidence hints at
points of cultural contact and textual transmission that are worthy
of much further examination than they have received thus far.
Kath Stevenson
Queen’s University Belfast
Appendix A: Longleat MS 29 (ff. 19r–22r). Semi-diplomatic
transcription43 of an anonymous English Exposition on the
Lord’s Prayer (Not known elsewhere)
[f. 19r line 1]
Pater noster qui es in celis sanctificetur nomen tuum.
O almyghty O alwise & witty. O al gracious & good
euerlastynge heuenly fader & son & holy goost hey trinite
that art in heuyn ihalowed be thy name. O fourmer
of heuen & erth & of al thynge that in ham is. In whom
5
42
Ed. Lucas 1995.
43
Lineation, capitalisation and punctuation of the original retained. Raised
letters retained, otherwise contractions have been expanded and the supplied
letters italicized. Tironian “et” silently replaced with “&” throughout. [?] after a
word indicates an uncertain reading.
223
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Kath Stevenson
by whom & of whom al thynge good visible & onvisible
bene my lord god my lord maker my sustener my mercy
my grace my socour & my sauyour / the I calle the I wor
shipe. the I thanke commend & preise with al my soule
with al my herte & wt al my mynde that þu neuer need
of no creature hauynge bot of thyn owne infinite bounte
desyrynge that creatures weren to haue parte of thy
blesse amonge al others thou endeignest me to fourme
of noght. Witte cunnynge. streynth of body. dyuers goddes
of kynd & of fortune me yevynge the wey of thy heuynly
roialme me techynge. And by al these goodes me þedre
as an heire ther of callynge. by thyn intollerables peynes of Iues reprouet betrayet with a cosse i sold. With
hard cordes ibounde ilyke an innocent lambe afoor
Anne pilat & herode falsly accuset with scourges
ibette reprouet scornet ivexet ispotte crownet wt
thornes ibuffeted in croice isette with sharp nayll
feet & handes ithurlet. Al the veynes & synowes of
thy body ibroken fro the corone of thyn heed in to the
solles of thy feet thy blessed body al to torne. thyn
owne clothes itake fro the with other men clothes in
scorne iclothet. these clothes al blodi of thy body þerto
fast cleuynge onclothet. þi body nailet[?] inayllet to þe
hard crosse at ons vp lifte wt þi crosse isquat doun
into a morteys that al þy veynes ioyntures synowes & membres of thy body ibroke & departed were
wt a sharp speer þyn hert clouen al the blod of thy
body out ranne wt eysel & galle idrynket. thy moder
to seynt Iohn þyn apostle commendett deynge iberiet
[f. 19v]
agayn risynge to lyue & merciably me to thy heuenly lif of
grace by al these peynes & passions & myche moor restorynge
Bot euer alaas my gilt my most gilt & my trespasse that
I as an vnkynd most fals foul stynkynge traytour onwor
thy heuyn vp to loke infynytly ayeyns so kynd so benigne
& so infynyte good lord I haue i synnet in pride. enuy.
Wrath. detracion sleuth. glotony. lechurye. & coueitise
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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10
15
20
25
30
35
40
Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
my ten commandements brekynge. my fy ve wittes in
syght hyrynge. smyllynge tastynge & felynge. misusynge
my goodes of kynd & of fortune mispendynd my tyme in
ydelnesse & syn wastynge. the vij. workes of mercy nat ful
fillynge. bot rather lord saue thy mercy perdurables peynes
ffor these & myche more than I can telle deseruynge. In
ferther meschief I am knyt ¶ For al these vices me cometh of kynd & verray virtue naue I none bot thou hit
me lene lord of thi grace. Bot sethen lord that thi mercy
thy workes passeth. Wherthrogh by thy passionne to al
synful man thou hast oppened thy yates of grace I most
synful man of al for thy alaas. In hoop of thy helpe
þy mercy I cry lord hyt & þy grace thou me graunt. And
aftre the multitude of thy mercy haue pitte of me amen.
Adueniat regnum tuum ¶ Fadyr of heuyn bigger
of al & holygoost confortour only god in trinite
thy kyngedome come to vs. lord god for thyn habun
daunt goodnesse graunt me grace of al the forsaiden
synnes verray repentaunce vices to leue & in þe vij
virtuȝ wt profite continuaunce to growe. While I lyve
shal. that al my thoghtes wordes & dedes may turne
to thy profite & plesaunce and me thy creature throgh
thy grace to thy kyngedome brynge. ¶ To these prayers
the state & prosperitee of al holy chirche our holy
fadre the pope hys Cardynals. his Consaill. our
bisshop our curates withal degrees in holy chirch
[f. 20r]
our kynge the Quene the Gouernour of this land with al
har trewe consaill. The estate & prosperite of the roialmes
of England Irland & Fraunce Al tho that peeȝ maynteneth
& trewe peple defendeth. my Fadre my modre sowles
my bretheren my sustres my kyn alliaunces al my good
frendes and in especial I. b. I. I. A. K ¶ And al tho þt
I am bound to pray for both quik & deed recommendynge
That these my priers take effecte O glorious virgyn
mayd mary Moder of god Queen of heuyn lady of al
land. Emperice of helle. O ye vertuȝ angels michael Gabriel
225
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Kath Stevenson
Raphael wt al þe clere compayny of the heuynly courte
O seynt Iohn Baptiste O al ye holy patriarches prophetȝ
& seyntes for the rewardes which ye haue of god receyued pray ententifly for vs in so greet worldly mys
sayse isette. amen
Fiat voluntas tua sicut in c[aelo] & in terra. O blessed
O glorious o euerlestynge trinite thi wille be hit
fulfillet in vs thi creatures in erthe as hit is in thi holy
aungels & halowes in heuyn. And grant vs grace al
thynge thi plesynge bisily to desyre wiseli to enserche
Trewly to knowe and perfitly to thyn honour to fulfille
And hyr us graciousely in these & al oure prayers throgh þe
ententifs suffrages of thyn holy apostles—petre paule
Andreu. Iames. Iohn. Philep. Matheu / bartholomeu
Thomas symon & Iude Barnabe Mark and Mathy O ye
holy apostles and al seyntes pray ye for vs. Amen.
Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie ¶ Lord
þt al leuest graunt vs to day our euery dayes
breed with al necessaries of our lyuynge help vs euer
at need þe breed of science and verite thi holy commu
nyoun graunt us grace to receyue wt so pure deuocion that
heuyn may be our meed. ¶ hyr vs. help vs & comfort
[f. 20v]
vs in dreed through the vertue of the pacience of al þese preci
ous Martires that for þi loue were deed. Seyntȝ Stephen
lyne. Clete. Clement & sixte. Corneli Cipriane laurence
Vincent dyonise & ypolite George Albane. Esmond. Oswald
Fabian Sebastian. Geruase Prothase Cosme & Damyan Marcelyn Iohn & poule Thomas Tibrise. Abdon & senne and
al oþer holy martyres in heuyn pray ye al for vs help forth
in the virtu of fortitudo of perfite feith hope & charite that
we nat fayl. amen
Et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut & nos dimittimus
debitoribus nostris ¶ O lord god of pitte mercy & of grace
foryeve vs our dettes our synnes & our trespasses
as we foryeven to oure dettors. lord of amendes þu graunt
vs space. Of charite þu let vs nat mysshe of thy blisse þu
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80
85
90
95
100
105
110
Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
graunt vs solace throgh þe swet callynge & bisy besechynge
of thi clere & holy confessours. Syluestre leo. hiller nicholas
Martyn. Ambrose. Ierom Gregorie & Austeyn dunston
swythyn Cuthbert & Birryn German dompnic Fran
ceys & leonard Benet Esmond & Bernard Patrike Fyn
nyan Columbe Canik & Brandane Molynge Synok
Keuyn & Lasriane[?] Machot Abbane Euyn & Colman And
al other confessours of Cristes Courte in perfite charite
stalle vs of holy conscience sharpe compunccioun verray
contricioun hool confessioun ful satisfaccioun & of al oure
synnes ful pardoun þrogh al yor holy intercessioun let vs nat
mysshe bot vs al brynge to þy heuynly habitacioun. Amen
Et ne nos inducas in temptacionem ¶ O only god com
fort in care In to temptacioun in leed vs nat. Bot
by þe grace of thy passioun graunt vs vertue of mekenesse
abstinence clennesse chastite largesse almesse & charitee
and by þese vertuȝ power victorie to haue & hold of oure
flesshly lustes & lykynges þe fendes fondynge worldly coueitise & fool hard holdynge. O adonay lord
gret merueillous god of Abraham Isaak & Iacob. Criste
of al good men incarnatet of thy blessed moder Mary
[f. 21r]
Maid myld throgh loue of man þrogh thy wondes fy ve ffor
þi crosse & thy passioun þi precious deth & resurexioun ffor þi
goostly comfortable visitatioun & for þi wondreful ascencioun
and by the dreedful iugement that al thou shalt deme. And
for þe loue of our lady Mary þi moder heuen queen Mary
magdale marie Egipcien. seynt Anne perpetue Agnes Agaas
& Cecilie Anastase Margaret & Kateryn Lucy petronelle Tecle
Scolace barbre & Bryde Frideswyde Warbugh Elene Iuli[e]tt
& Cristyne Feith hope & charite Radegund Iuliane & prisce
Otili & helyn and al holy halowes wonnynge in þi blisse
In this lond lord make pees for thi hey holy names. Al
ilwille & malice of unlawful werryours abaat that
þi due reuerence þer in fulfillet be ¶ O lord god maker of
pees þt art not wirshippet bot intyme of pees send
trewe men pees to þy honour & al seyntȝ al þi holy pla
227
115
120
125
130
135
140
145
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Kath Stevenson
ces in lond pesibli to visite. O holy fader Patrike oure
patroun with Columb & bride whose bones resten in dounne
And al seyntes suynge your trace pray þe the pierles prince
of paradise that of al wiked wormes this lond wedet
that he endeigne for his dignite & his mercy which his
werkes passeth. þe destruers of his trewe peple may
approwe in þi pees perfitly to þi plesaunce amen. ¶ O
pierles precious emperour confer ine þyn honour anent fals
folke þi trewe peple destroynge. O lord god of endles
pitte pees rightfulnesse & Veritee. For þe pitte & mercy
that þou haddest of al mynkynd by disceite of þou ene
mye for syn ilost & departed from holy aungels. Whan
þou endeignest to descende in to þe bosome of þi blessed
moder mayd marye incarnated of hir mankind to recon
cile to þe pees of þi fader plesynge to þyn aungels:
For that pitte & mercy wt al maner of humilite we þe besech
that we myght be worthy to þyn euerlestynge pees in
heuyn to be reconcilet & as oon flok of þi fold in þis
lond vndre oon prince to þin honour bemirly to be gouernet
amen.
[f. 21v]
Sed libera nos a malo. O messias sother emanuel sa
boath. adonay principium primogenitis sapiencia virtus
Alpha caput finus simul vocitatur & est O fons & origo boni
paraclitus ac mediator. Agnus ouis vitulus serpens aries
leo vermis os verbum splendor sol gloria lux & ymago panis
flos vitis mons Ianua lapisque Angelus & sponsus. pastorque
propheta sacerdos. Athanatos kyros theos panton craton &
ysus. ¶ O almyghty god throgh þe vertue of al these thy names
fro al manner of synnes anguysshes. tribulaciouns meschiefs det
tes & necessitees temptatiouns & perilles now & to cume of body &
soule And fro al manner perilles meschiefs & desaires of oure ene
mys visibles & vnvisibles kepe vs saue vs mayntene
& defend gracousli vs delyur. And euer in thi proteccioun glorious
trinite in heuyn trone. And throgh þe vertue of þy pas
sioun þi grace & þi mercy the sacrementȝ of holy chirche de
uoutly receyuet vs brynge to thy blisse that neuer
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150
155
160
165
170
175
180
Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
shal haue ende amen.
185
In nomine patris & filii & spiritus sancti amen. The sign ᛭ of þe
holy croice me defend fro harmes ipassed nowe & to cum
inward & outward. ᛭ By þe signe of þe holy croice fro
persecucioun of þe fend & al myn enemys delyuer me. ᛭ By
þis signe al myn aduersaries be thei i cast doun & fle þay
190
fro me. ᛭ By this signe of the holy croice fro al worldly
perilles lord god delyur me. ᛭ The blessynge of god þe fadre
almyghty with his angels be hit vpon me. ᛭ The bles
synge of criste with his apostles be hit vp on me. ᛭ The
blessynge of þe holy goost. the proteccioun & þe holynesse of
195
þe hei god with þe virtue of his Misteries & þe holye
godspel be hit vpon me. ᛭ The blessynge of cristes
incarnacioun his holy birth his glorious circumcisioune
his blessed passioun his reuerent resureccioun his won
dreful ascencioun his holygoost confortable visitacioun
200
And þe ᛭ signe of þe holy croice be hit vpon me
wt in me about me by. after me & in euery place
þer as I am & shal be. ᛭ The blessynge of our lady
[f. 22r]
blessed seynt Mary moder of ihesu al holy prophetes patriarches
apostles euaungelistes Martires confessours virgynes & al halo
205
wes be hit upon me with in me about me & in euery stidde
þer as I shal be. And I commend my body & my soule to þe ho
ly trinite þt he me kepe nowe & euer. ᛭ Thi croice lord ihesu
crist be hit þe signe of my helth by þe which þu endeig
nest to by me. an helper a defender a consaillor a gou
210
noure & confortor & a lyght yeuer of me be þou my lord
god ihesu ᛭ The blessynge of þe holy trinite me kepe
fauoure defend & couer [?] from al manner of harmes & me comfort
in al manner of good workes þt I may be I sauet here &
euerlestynge ioy deserve & haue amen. ᛭ In nomine patris
215
& filii & spiritus sancti. Amen.
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Kath Stevenson
Appendix B: Linguistic Features of Medieval HibernoEnglish as identified by McIntosh and Samuels, PROLEGOMENA
TO A STUDY OF MEDIAEVAL ANGLO-IRISH44
(1) ham, har, “them, their;” occasionally harre, and later tham,
thar.
(2) streinþ, leinþ, streynth(e) etc. “strength, length,” with variants
streyng(t)h, leynt, strenyt.
(3) euch(e) “each.” Vch(e), uch(e) also occur, more rarely ech(e), ich(e).
(4) þroȝ, þrow, throgh, throw(e) “through.”
(5) hir(e), hyr(e) “hear.”
(6) þay, þai, thay “they,” combined in earlier texts with hy, in later
texts with þei, they.
(7) hit, hyt “it” always outnumbers forms without h-.
(8) beþ “are” (variants beth, byth, bet) survives later than in southern
ME texts, and similarly -et(h), -it(h), -yt(h) in the present
indicative plural of other verbs.
(9) fale “many” is much commoner than fele.
(10) sill, syll(e) “sell.”
(11) Frequent doubling of medial and final consonants, e.g. wonni
inf. “dwell,” woddis “woods,” berr(e) “bear,” didde “did,”
commyng “coming,” helppe “help,” wentten “went,” botte “boat,”
clepped (-yt) “called,” plessyd “pleased.”
(12) stid(de), styd(de) “stead.”
(13) The late survival of -y, -i in the infinitive, e.g. auordy “afford”
(1459), amercy “fine” (1460).
(14) The prefix y-, i- is frequent in past participles, and occasional
with the infinitive after auxiliary verbs, e.g. shulde ybe (1454).
(15) -ir, -yr are the usual endings in words like fadir, aftyr, and -er,
-ur are much rarer; -re appears in later texts (fadre, after).
(16) The usual forms for “though” are þeȝ(t), thegh(t), þoȝ(t),
thogh(t), not þeiȝ, theigh, þouȝ, though, þa(u)ȝ as commonly in
ME.
44
McIntosh & Samuels 1968: 4–5.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
(17) Final -e has no morphological significance. Its early loss is
shown by the otherwise conservative form hab “have.”
(18) ME v is often represented by w, e.g. yewe “give,” ewill “evil”
and, in texts where hab is not preserved (cf. no. 17 preceding),
haw(e) “have.”
(19) oþir, othyr “or” survives later than in southern ME.
(20) The endings of the weak preterite and past participle are
frequently unvoiced: -et, -it, -yt.
Other frequent but not universal features are:
(1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)
(7)
(8)
(9)
(10)
(11)
w(h)och(e) “which.”
brand, brant “burnt,” and occasionally branne “burn.”
silf, sylf(e) “self.”
⒜ the writing of n, l(l) for ME nd, ld, as in fyne “find,” hell
“held,” undirston “understand,” sune “sound.”
⒝ the reverse spellings nd, ld for ME n, l, as in fynder “finer,”
wand “when,” hold “whole,” sonde “soon.”
The writing of th for ME t and of t for ME þ, th, e.g. thyme
“time,” thwey “two,” playnth “plaint,” tree “three,” tis “this.”
-it, -yt, -et for ME -ith, -eth in both the 3rd singular and the
plural of the present indicative (since this may occur in texts
not showing no. 5 preceding, it should probably be regarded
as a separate feature).
The earlier form for “say” is sigge, sygge, not segge.
ar (conj. and prep.) “before” is in most texts preferred to er
and or.
no “nor” (and also occasionally in the meaning “not”).
togadir (togaddyr, etc.) survives at a time when ME texts show
only e- and i-forms for “together.”
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231
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Some Middle English Texts in Late Medieval Ireland. (Ph. D.
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Stokes, W. 1906: The Birth and Life of St. Moling. Revue Celtique 27:
257–312.
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Irish provenance of Longleat MS 29 and Bodleian MS e Mus 232
Thompson, J. J. 2011: Books Beyond England. In A. Gillespie & D.
Wakelin eds. The Production of Books in England 1350–1500.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
Vauchez, A. 1997: Sainthood in the later Middle Ages. [Jean Birrell trans.
1981: La sainteté en Occident aux derniers siècles du Moyen Âge (1198–
1431)]. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
Williams, B. ed. and trans. 2007: The Annals of Ireland by Friar John
Clynn. Dublin, Four Courts Press.
Woolf, R. 1968: The English Religious Lyric in the Middle Ages. Oxford,
Clarendon Press.
•
Received 06 Mar 2014; accepted 03 Apr 2014
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MEDIEVAL DRAMA IN THE ELIZABETHAN AGE
Abstract: The English cycles of Corpus Christi plays continued to be acted well into the
reign of Elizabeth I, and Shakespeare almost certainly had some acquaintance with them.
They offered a form of drama radically at odds with the prescriptions laid down by Aristotle,
Horace and their humanist followers, comparable in its independence to that recommended
on commercial grounds by Lope de Vega. Shakespeare not only adopted many of his
theatrical principles from the cycle plays, but also derived an explicit theory of drama from
their model of stagecraft to rival the humanists’: a theory he spells out in the Prologue to
Henry V. This “apology for the stage” was taken up in similar terms in the introductory
poem of Thomas Heywood’s Apology for Actors, so called in response to the attack on English
stage practices in Sir Philip Sidney’s Apology for Poetry. Keywords: William Shakespeare,
dramatic theory, English medieval drama, Spanish medieval drama.
Resumen: Los misterios ingleses del Corpus Christi siguieron representándose bien entrado
el reinado de Isabel I, y Shakespeare sabía de ellos casi con total seguridad. Ofrecían una
forma de drama radicalmente opuesta a las prescripciones de Aristóteles, Horacio y sus
seguidores humanistas y comparable en su independencia a la que Lope de Vega recomendaba
por motivos comerciales. Shakespeare no sólo adoptó muchos de sus principios dramáticos
de los misterios medievales, sino que también extrajo una teoría dramática explícita a partir
del modelo de técnica teatral de éstos, que rivalizaba con la de los humanistas: una teoría
que expone en el Prólogo de Enrique V. Esta “apología de la escena” reaparece en similares
términos en el poema introductorio de la Apología de los actores de Thomas Heywood, así
llamada por responder al ataque a las prácticas escénicas inglesas en la Apología de la poesía
de Sir Philip Sidney. Palabras clave: William Shakespeare, teoría dramática, drama medieval
inglés, drama medieval español.
he Elizabethan age might seem too late a period to
interest SELIM or its associated conference, but this
paper is intended as a reminder that the Middle Ages
did not end as early as we commonly like to think, and that
medievalists are in many respects uniquely placed to contribute
to the criticism and scholarship on Renaissance literature. It is
too easy to assume that there was some kind of divide between
the medieval and the early modern; indeed, the two terms we use
for the later period both insist on such a divide in different ways.
“Renaissance” emphasises the rebirth of the Classics, a renewal of
the long-past; “early modern” suggests the birth of the modern
age, a prediction of the future, as if it were only then that our
T
ISSN: 1132–631X
Helen Cooper, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 237–259
Helen Cooper
own world begins. Both terms carry with them an implication that
there was nothing in the Middle Ages of any value, in keeping
with the familiar phenomenon that “medieval” is more often used
as a term of insult than to designate a time period. It is a practice
that goes back, indeed, to the humanists, who promoted such a
derogatory attitude towards the Middle Ages in order to suggest
that their own ideas were more innovative than they actually
were; and since humanism has dominated education almost ever
since, those ideas have become embedded in many modern ways
of thinking (Lewis 1954: 1–56, 1955; Aers 1992; and many others).
This paper, however, will argue the opposite, specifically with
reference to Elizabethan drama. The greatest drama in English, I
believe, including Shakespeare’s, is grounded in the medieval; so an
understanding of its medieval context can bring things to the study
of Shakespeare that lie outside the early modernists’ field of vision.
A quick historical survey of what was happening in drama in
late medieval and sixteenth-century England is necessary to explain
what that context was. There is a common assumption that there
was a sharp break between the two forms at the Reformation: that
pre-Reformation drama was Catholic and religious, while postReformation drama, under the pressure of disapproval from the
stricter Calvinist wing of the Church of England, was secular. To
an extent, that is indeed true; but it is also an over-simplification
that ignores a great deal of what was going on. Medieval drama
survived for much longer than we tend to assume. Some dramatic
genres, such as the saints’ plays, did indeed die out along with the
cults of the saints they celebrated, and have left very little surviving
evidence: only one, Mary Magdalene, survives in anything like fullscale dramatic form, though that, interestingly, operates through
a stagecraft remarkably close to that of Shakespeare’s Pericles.
Moralities, the allegorical plays that segued into interludes in the
course of the sixteenth century, were a late medieval development
and reached their peak in the early Tudor age; they were still
being acted, and actively remembered, until late in the century,
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but they gradually changed form. Plays with a dramatis personae
of personifications rather than people transmuted into pageants,
royal entries and court masques (all themselves medieval in origin),
and enjoyed a vibrant afterlife down to the Civil War. Moral
interludes evolved or were absorbed into full-scale plays: plays such
as Marlowe’s Dr Faustus, with its protagonist despatched to hell; or
Ben Jonson’s The Devil is an Ass (1616), in which a junior devil fresh
out of hell finds himself completely outclassed by the sharp practices
of contemporary London; or the structure showing a man pulled
between figures representing good and evil, as with Prince Hal
between Falstaff and the Lord Chief Justice, or Othello between
Desdemona and Iago (whose associations with angel and devil are as
close as is possible short of making them supernatural) (Bevington
1962; Spivack 1958). The major form of medieval drama, however,
was the mystery plays, still referred to by the Elizabethans as the
Corpus Christi plays even after the feast of Corpus Christi had
been abolished. These were the great play cycles of Biblical drama
performed annually in a number of major towns and cities across
England; and for those we have abundant surviving Elizabethan
evidence, showing them in a form unaltered or only slightly altered
from their medieval origins. In terms of texts, four near-complete
cycles survive, plus a number of isolated individual plays recorded
independently of the cycles that once contained them. There are
records indicating that perhaps as many as fourteen cycles once
existed, and that number may still not give a full picture.1 It is these
plays on which I shall be focusing in this paper.
At their fullest, the Corpus Christi plays showed cosmic
history from the fall of Lucifer and the creation of Man through
to the Last Judgement. There were also widespread shorter
variants, such as cycles devoted to the New Testament only, or
with a concentration on the events of the Passion. They were a
1
For a full listing of records, including dates of last performance, see REED
(1979–).
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kind of drama that encompassed God and the devils, patriarchs
and sinners, kings and shepherds, all inhabiting the same stage;
and they refused to believe that anything was unstageable, whether
heaven, or Noah’s flood, or the Crucifixion, or the Last Judgement.
The full versions in particular were marked by their extraordinarily
ambitious scope. They were the English equivalent of the great
dramatic religious festivals of ancient Athens, except that rather
than new plays being written every year, the texts were traditional,
and were revised or rewritten only intermittently. In impulse and
origin they were religious, but they brought spectators from miles
around, and gave a generous economic boost to the towns that
hosted them. The plays were presumably written by clerics (all are
anonymous), but they were usually performed by the various trade
guilds under the aegis of the city rather than the Church. Initially
inspired by the processions of the feast of Corpus Christi, which
had been instituted in 1264, the play cycles emerged in the late
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. After the Reformation, they
were still not invariably regarded as Catholic, many Protestants
valuing them as adjuncts to Biblical teaching. One new Passion
play was composed in Elizabeth’s reign by the Protestant master of
Shrewsbury School, and performed several times in the 1560s; it was
presented outdoors, as the civic plays were, and played to crowds
numbering thousands.2 The years of its performance coincided with
the young Philip Sidney’s attendance at the school, and since it was
acted by the schoolboys, it is not impossible that he was one of
them—a strange thought given his later comments on drama in
his Apology for Poetry. Performances of the cycles did not stop with
the Reformation, and indeed most of the texts that survive do so
in sixteenth-century copies (all in manuscript: none reached print,
initially probably because the cities wanted to keep control over
2
Its school origins might suggest a play on the humanist model, but its acting
outdoors and the large numbers of people attending point strongly towards a more
popular model based on the staging of the Corpus Christi plays.
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performances, later because of the censorship of pre-Reformation
material). Many Elizabethan churchmen disapproved of them on
religious grounds, because they portrayed God and Christ on stage,
and because they did not limit themselves to the strict text of the
Bible; the government disapproved of them on grounds of public
order, since they were the occasion for bringing together large
numbers of people who might then be incited to riot (though there
is no record of any riot associated with them). Strenuous efforts
were therefore made to suppress them, usually against the wishes
of the towns themselves. Norwich tried to keep on the right side
of the new theology by providing its cycle with a new Protestantfriendly prologue in 1565. Chester had extensively revised its plays
in the 1530s, and adaptations continued to be made after the
Reformation, though the last performance of the full cycle took
place in 1575. There was, however, an individual performance of its
Shepherds’ pageant for the Earl of Derby and his son Ferdinando
Lord Strange when they visited the town in 1578: noblemen who
had a particular interest in drama, the father keeping a company of
players in the 1570s and 80s, his son becoming one of the patron of
one of the leading London theatre companies in the late 80s until
his death in 1594. Further evidence of interest in the Chester cycle
at the end of the century is supplied by the fact that it is the only
cycle to survive in more than one copy; and all six manuscripts,
full or fragmentary, date from after 1590, in the great decade of
Elizabethan drama.
Other towns too kept their cycles going. York gave its last
performance in 1569, though there were still hopes for a revival
in 1580. It had been proud enough of its civic drama to present
its Creed play, a kind of mini cycle, to Richard III. Coventry
took equal pride in its cycle, though it may have restricted itself
to the New Testament; selected plays were regularly presented to
visiting royalty, to Margaret of Anjou, Richard III, Henry VII,
and to Elizabeth herself when she visited the city in 1566. Its last
peformance took place in 1579, but one guild kept its pageant
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wagon until the 1630s, just in case. Coventry was within easy reach
of Stratford-on-Avon, and in 1579 Shakespeare was fifteen: there is
very strong circumstantial evidence that he saw them (Cooper 2010:
49–71). Other towns further from the seat of government managed
to continue their plays for longer: Newcastle intermittently to 1589;
Cornwall, which had its own biblical plays, to 1602; Kendal, in the
Lake District, into the reign of James I, perhaps as late as 1612.
Preston also continued late, and a pageant wagon figures in a will of
1638. Their afterlife depended less on redundant wagons, however,
than on people’s memories. As late as 1644, two years after the
Puritans had finally enforced the closure of the London theatres
and brought the great age of early modern drama to an end, an old
man in the Lake District, questioned about his knowledge of Jesus
Christ by a visiting preacher, replied, “Oh Sir, I think I heard of
that man you speake of, once in a play at Kendall, called Corpus
Christi play, where there was a man on a tree, and blood ran down”
(REED: Cumberland, Westmoreland, 1986: 219). Nor were all these
plays and memories mere relics. We therefore need to think of
the reign of Elizabeth not only in terms of its great drama for the
public stage, but in terms of the overlap of that with performances
and memories of this other tradition: a tradition still very much
alive in the early decades of her reign, and retained for much longer
in the minds and memories of later playgoers. London did not have
a cycle of its own, but it did have a huge number of immigrants in
the late sixteenth century from the rest of England, and so from
areas where these plays were a vibrant tradition.
That is the kind of background that we need to have in mind
when we look at the drama written for the public stage under
Elizabeth, and to the kinds of comments made about it. What the
commentators wanted was drama of the Classical kind in which
they had been educated, or neo-Latin plays that followed the same
model. What they saw on stage was something very different. In
his Apology for Poetry, Sir Philip Sidney famously condemned as
“gross absurdities, how all their plays be neither right tragedies,
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nor right comedies; mingling kings and clowns … with neither
decency nor discretion” (Sidney 2004: 46). In 1591, John Florio,
tutor in Italian to the English aristocracy, made the same point in
his English-Italian phrasebook designed to assist speakers of either
language to make intelligent, or at least polite, conversation in the
other. It consists of a number of model conversations designed to
explain the strange ways of the English to the Italians, and one of
the exchanges runs as follows (Florio 1591: 23):
H. The plaies that they plaie in England, are not right
comedies.
T. Yet they doo nothing else but plaie every daye.
H. Yea but they are neither right comedies, nor right tragedies.
G. How would you name them then?
H. Representations of histories, without any decorum.
Sidney’s Apology was not published until 1595,3 some fifteen years
after he had written it; but although Florio had links with the
Sidney circle that might have allowed him to read it in manuscript,
the idea he expresses was commonplace. The assumption underlying
the exchange is that Italians would find the plays presented on the
English public stage not just odd, but improper, wrong: everything
that is the opposite of that repeated “right.” These “histories” (by
which he means not so much historical plays, though these had
begun to appear in the theatres, but stories, dramatised narratives)
did not follow “decorum,” the more technical rhetorical term
for what Sidney designates as “decency” and “discretion:” those
rules demanding consistency of genre, plot and style and strict
limitations on time and place such as were supposed to be followed
by “right” comedies and tragedies. Derived from Greek roots in
Aristotle’s Poetics and from Latin in Horace’s Ars Poetica, confirmed
by the practice of those Greek plays known to the more educated
Elizabethans and of Seneca’s more widely known Latin drama, these
3
The work was printed twice, once as the Apology for Poetry and once as The
Defence of Poesie. Since Thomas Heywood seems to have it in mind under the
former title, as described below, I have used that.
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“unities” were repeated and strengthened by a series of humanist
critics and theorists writing in most of the languages of Europe,
not least the authoritative Latin. The discomfort they express
with the Shakespearean kind of drama still has clear echoes after
the Restoration, in Dryden (who described Shakespeare’s plays as
disorderly), in Dr Johnson in the eighteenth century, and indeed
for many later critics. It is this discomfort that led, for instance,
to the twentieth-century invention of the category of “problem
plays,” to take in the plays that were most evidently “neither right
comedies, nor right tragedies.”
Sidney and Florio do however share another important word
too, though neither apparently notices it—as we still tend not to:
for what English wrote and acted were plays, the standard term
used to describe the vernacular English theatre for centuries. Plays
that were not right comedies or tragedies could still emphatically
be right plays, just as the Corpus Christi plays had been. “Play”
remained the basic word for everything to do with drama
throughout the sixteenth century: the one Old English-derived
word in a flood of imported Classical terminology. “Tragedy” and
“comedy,” ultimately Greek but which had entered the European
vernaculars by way of Latin, had been used in England since the
later fourteenth century, but both were used to describe narrative
forms, and they were assimilated to vernacular drama only slowly
and awkwardly through the 1570s and 80s. To a degree, the humanist
critics and the early playgoers did not even share a vocabulary; they
used what were superficially the same words in different senses, and
had very different literary models in mind when they used them. So
it is scarcely surprising that the humanists had great trouble with
plays that did not fit their own definitions and classifications, for
plays brought none of those Classicising assumptions of definition
or limitation with them.
Right tragedies and comedies, to Sidney and Florio and their
fellow humanists, demonstrated their rightness by adherence
to a fixed set of rules. Horace’s Ars Poetica had been known
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throughout the Middle Ages, and hence also his prescriptions as
to the appropriate style to use for speakers of different ranks, the
maximum number of speaking characters, and so on; but there is
very little evidence that those had much bothered actual medieval
playwrights, including those writing in Latin. The rediscovery
of Aristotle’s Poetics around 1500 did however set both humanist
drama and humanist theory off on a different track, and humanist
commentaries on the text rapidly turned both generic distinctions
and what we know as the Aristotelian unities into something much
fiercer than what the Poetics actually says. Aristotle describes and
analyses the practices—in particular, what he reckoned to be the
best practices—of the drama of his day. The humanist commentaries
on the text, in particular the widely disseminated Poetices Libri
Septem of Julius-Caesar Scaliger (1561) and the influential Italian
translation and commentary of Ludovico Castelvetro (1570), turn
those descriptions into prescriptions, tightening them up and
adding more. Thus plays not only came in two sorts, tragedies or
comedies; but tragedies were about the life of a high-ranking man
of distinctly bad character who comes to a deservedly nasty end,
composed in high-style verse; and comedies were about middle or
low class characters, written in prose. The action should be single,
that is there should be no subplots or mixing of genres; the time of
the action should be limited to a single day, or, preferably, the time
the play took to perform; and, in an addition to Aristotle (though
widely observed in Classical plays themselves), the stage should
represent a single place. The commentators also set rigid limits to
the number of characters, or speaking characters, on stage at once;
and although violent actions were regarded as the very substance of
tragedy (murder, parricide, incest and so on), they all took place off
stage, and were reported by means of a messenger. The emphasis
given by the Elizabethan stage, as on the medieval, on acting the
action rather than describing it, is entirely absent.
Those rules became something of a mantra in sixteenth-century
poetic handbooks and in the more casual comments made on
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drama. They were so strongly insisted on because the unities in
particular appeared to be founded on reason; and that brought with
it the assumption, sometimes explicit, that anything else was an
assault on reason, and therefore to be deplored. The imagination
by contrast was untrustworthy, anti-rational. Castelvetro indeed
based his principles on the belief that audiences were incapable
of understanding anything other than the most naturalistic of
presentations, anything other than a direct transposition of real
life onto the stage: the imagination was not only a danger but an
impossibility (Castelvetro 1570; Weinberg 1961: 502–511). Sidney’s
reading in both Aristotle and the commentators is evident in the
detail of his complaints about the English public drama, his ideas
of what a right tragedy or comedy should look like;4 and Florio is
only one of many other humanist-trained theorists who took the
same line.
That account may just seem to be repeating what has been
known ever since Shakespeare wrote his plays, that he broke the
neo-Classical rules. His approach to playwriting, however, can
profitably also be placed both in the context of medieval drama, and
of what was happening to plays on the continent of Europe. German
drama, like English, resisted the imposition of humanist rules
(Benjamin 1998: 48–61); but seventeenth-century French drama
famously took them up with grand commitment, even though—or
perhaps because—France had had a particularly extravagant earlier
tradition of vernacular religious theatre. In contrast to the concise
secular plays, interludes and sotties and farces, French Passion plays
might last for days, or even weeks; their average length was 10,000
lines, the longest over 50,000, and at their most generous they
might have hundreds of speaking roles. They were performed down
to the 1540s; unlike the English Corpus Christi plays, a number
4
For a forceful argument that Sidney knew the Poetics itself as well as its
commentators (a position that has often been doubted), see Lazarus 2013. On his
humanist sources, see Sidney 2004: lvii.
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were printed, continuing into the seventeenth century (Runnalls
1995). Castelvetro’s own comments were likewise made against the
background of Italian vernacular theatre very different from the
neohumanist drama that followed. The Italian sacre rapprezentationi
were the approximate equivalent of the English mystery plays
or saints’ plays, though usually more concise; the more recently
invented commedia dell’arte, improvised plays based on stereotype
characters, was in some ways more similar to music-hall than to
formal drama, and was even less likely to appeal to a critic trained in
the Classics. The strength of neo-Classical influences in Italy went
so far as to include the imitation of ancient theatre design: Palladio’s
Teatro Olimpico in Vicenza (begun 1580) supplies for its stage a
wide flat frontage with depth largely confined to trompe l’oeil scenic
effects in a fixed street design, perfect for staging Roman comedy
or tragedies set in front of a palace, but incapable of any fluidity
of place: even indoor scenes become almost impossible. The stage
design itself, in other words, sets strict limits on the kind of plays
that could be acted there. It may have seemed too restrictive even
at the time: when the man who had completed the building after
Palladio’s death, Vincenzo Scamozzi, came to design his own Teatro
all’Antica in Mantua just a few years later, he designed a stage
with greater depth and somewhat more potential for multiplicity
of place, though the full freedom assumed by the London public
stages would still be hard to reproduce here.
The situation in Spain was in many ways simpler. Religious
drama before the Reconquista was largely limited to Castile,
though few play texts survive, and the records of others are so
patchy as to suggest that many more may have been lost (Stern
1996: 1–24).5 The brief twelfth-century Auto de los Reyes Magos
is a precious but rare survival almost without a context. By the
later Middle Ages there was a certain amount of dramatic activity
5
For an indication of the dissemination of medieval religious drama across
Europe down to 1700, including in Spain, see Muir 1995: 270–287.
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connected with Corpus Christi, but that often took the form
of processional pageants of religious images or tableaux rather
than the performances found in England—though they too may
have their origins in such processions. Autos, which were often
connected with the feast of Corpus Christi, seem to have been
played in a number of Castilian towns, though the relationship
between spectacle and performance is not always clear. Although
there had never been any strong tradition of civic drama, nor
anything on the scale of the cycle plays, there was a large measure
of continuity between medieval and early modern theatre in Spain
compared with most continental European countries (Muir 1995:
158–159; Stern 1996: 201–203; Surtz 1979: 9–13). Some early
plays, most famously the Elche Dormition and Assumption of
the Virgin first performed in 1370, indeed survive in unbroken
tradition to this day, a feature shared outside Spain only with
the Oberammergau Passion Play, and that had a later start, in
1620. There was thus already a newly-developed form of drama
that had no necessary connection with humanist principles, and
it clearly had strong audience support. It was on this basis that
Lope de Vega spelled out his own reasons for rejecting the official
rules, and for offering his audiences a different kind of drama,
in his Arte nuevo de hacer comedias en este tiempo of 1609. These
reasons were frankly commercial and pragmatic rather than a
matter of principle—and indeed the fact that the Arte nuevo was
directed to the Academia de Madrid indicates his wish to keep in
with the humanists even while offering something very different
on stage. The Arte is his own Apology for Poetry, but written
in frank acknowledgement that although he knows how plays
should officially be written, he is not going to do anything of that
kind. The principles of Aristotle and the practice of Plautus and
Terence are not going to bring in an income. He is going to give
his audiences what they will pay for, and that is not neo-Classical
regulation. Golden Age Spanish drama is indeed premised on
just such a rejection. The very title of Calderón’s Gran Teatro del
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Mundo is an indication that the playwrights had larger ambitions
in mind.
English playwrights for the public stage similarly disregarded
humanist calls for discipline and regulation, but they did not
generally write so explicitly about what they were doing and why.
For Shakespeare, however, that rejection of the neo-Classical unities
in favour of a multiplicity of times and places and characters and
plots, Sicily and Bohemia and kings and shepherds and pursuing
bears within a single play, was, I believe, not only grounded, but
consciously and deliberately grounded, on an alternative theory of
drama that was itself derived from an earlier practice of drama:
the medieval drama found in the cycle plays. Lope de Vega had
limited himself to a model of practice without claiming any
alternative theory for it; Shakespeare went a large step further.
Commercial considerations no doubt came into play as well, and
many Elizabethan dramatists mention their hopes of pleasing
their audiences; but the theoretical deliberateness of Shakespeare’s
move is demonstrated by how closely what he writes is a countermodel to what the humanists were writing. He asserts the total
freedom of the stage in direct opposition to any imitation of literal
naturalism, carried through in full complicity with the imagination
of the audience.
He had not started out like that: his initial ambitions towards
authorship seem to have been very much on the Classical model.
His narrative poems Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece
suggest that he initially set out to make a name for himself
on the Ovidian model; Titus Andronicus adds a strong measure
of Senecan tragic violence to Ovid’s story of Philomel, and his
familiarity with Plautus is on show in the Comedy of Errors—the
one play of his that contains the classicizing term “comedy” as
part of its title, and which was performed before the classicallytrained lawyers and students at the Inns of Court. Increasingly,
however, he moved towards the much more ambitious tradition
of English drama exemplified by the Corpus Christi plays: plays
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that dealt with all humankind, so had no social division into the
binaries of comedy and tragedy; that were written entirely in
verse; and that showed a cheerful disregard for the plausibilities
of staging, let alone the unities. It was a form of drama that
relied absolutely on the imaginative complicity of the audience
to supply what was missing.
Shakespeare never wrote a Poetics of his own, a treatise
offering a defence of his own kind of theatre; and we tend to
assume that he did not have any theory, only an unconsidered
practice. There has long been an unspoken (even subconscious)
assumption that “plays,” as distinct from those Classical terms of
theatre, drama, comedy or tragedy, cannot be theorized. Those
classicizing assumptions, indeed, were written into the first major
act of criticism on Shakespeare, and one of the most misleading:
the First Folio, with its division of his plays from the title page
forwards into comedies, histories, and tragedies—a division made
even though three of the histories (Henry VI Part 3, Richard
II and Richard III) had actually been titled as tragedies when
they were first written and published6—though the creation of a
separate section for the histories does perhaps acknowledge what
Florio was hinting at in his model conversation, that there could
be a non-classical genre of “play” that subsumes history itself. In
fact, however, Shakespeare did write an Apology for the Stage
parallel to Sidney’s Apology for Poetry; and like Sidney’s, it was at
least as much a manifesto as a defence. It is perhaps no accident,
too, that he wrote it as the Prologue to one of his histories,
Henry V—a play that makes no claim at all to being either
comedy or tragedy, and which shows a magnificent disregard for
any humanist limitations. The Prologue had been the point in
Latin comedy where Terence had introduced himself as author,
and where medieval playwrights had introduced the audience to
the play; here Shakespeare’s “we” represents a combination of
6
Henry VI Part 3 was originally “The Tragedy of Richard Duke of York.”
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author and actors, the whole company—an inclusive term. It is an
apology in both senses, the Elizabethan meaning of “defence” as
well as its modern meaning: hence his plea, “O pardon, gentles all”
(line 8 below). Elizabethan playwrights were not above flattering
their whole audience by addressing them as “gentles,” but there
seems to be a suggestion here of something more specific: that
the apology is addressed to the educated sector of his audience,
those who might most need a defence of this “history without
any decorum.” Henry V was probably written for the “wooden
O” of the newly built Globe, in 1599; and it is appropriate that
the manifesto should be written for this new theatre, whose
“unworthy scaffold” can none the less represent the whole world:
the globe, as its name implies, that can hold as much time and
space as the play demands.
O for a muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention:
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene […]
But pardon, gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object. Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon: since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million,
And let us, ciphers to this great account,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance.
Think when we talk of horses, that you see them
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Printing their proud hoofs i’th’ receiving earth;
For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there, jumping o’er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass—for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who Prologue-like your humble patience pray
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
30
Here, humanist literalism (that the stage should represent a single
stage-sized place) is given its reductio ad absurdum by the idea that
acting Henry V would need the space of an entire kingdom, or
rather two. Instead, the whole dramatic illusion depends not on
rules but on “your thoughts:” that imagination ruled so firmly and
decisively out of order by Castelvetro. The audience’s imagination
is now in full complicity with the playwright and the actors; it can
fill the stage with absent horses, carry you here and there, jump
o’er times, and explode those classical unities into something else
altogether.
There are, however, some lines in the speech (13–18) that need
more annotation than they have been given; for the “cipher,” the
zero, the nought, suggests another possibility in that wooden O.
Suppose you read it not as a “wooden O,” but a “wooden nought:”
Elizabethan print did not distinguish between them, so they look
identical on the page. The zero was a comparatively recent import
into England, Roman numerals having remained standard until well
into the sixteenth century, and the idea of it fascinated Shakespeare
and various of his contemporaries. In the Middle Ages and up until
the late sixteenth century, the circle had symbolized infinity, or
everything. All four surviving Corpus Christi cycles open with God
declaring, “Ego sum alpha et O:” not just the beginning and the
end, but all eternity. Now, however, it could symbolize nothing—
as Shakespeare uses it in Richard II and King Lear. But if you take
an empty circle, a nought, and paint on it a map of the world, then
you have everything, as John Donne notes in his “A Valediction:
Of Weeping:”
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On a round ball
A workman, that hath copies by, can lay
An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,
And quickly make that, which was nothing, all,
So doth each tear,
Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world, by that impression grow.
Here, in the Prologue, Shakespeare plays both on that idea, of
how the circle or the globe could be all or nothing, and also on the
capacity of the zero, the cipher, the nothing, to multiply up. The
standard gloss on the “crooked figure” (15), if it is glossed at all,
is as a circle. But “crooked” does not mean circular: it means just
what it says, crooked or hooked. “Figure” is Shakespeare’s term
for a number other than nought, as in the reference in Lear to “an
O without a figure:”7 the opposite phenomenon to what is being
described here. The obvious “crooked figure” is the figure one: the
upright line with its little hook on the top. Add a series of noughts,
and you can turn it into a thousand or a million; and similarly the
speaking actor, the single upright figure like a figure one, can turn
into a thousand. By the addition of nothing, the one man can become
a whole army, “imaginary puissance.” It is another way for not just
a poet but the playwright to make substance of “airy nothing,” as
Theseus puts it in A Midsummer Night’s Dream (5.1.6), and a way
of multiplying Classical unity into a million sparkling shards. And
if you can do that, you can equally imagine that the stage has the
same freedom of time and place as we accord to the cinema or
television screen: it can show whatever it likes, and Shakespeare can
rely on his audience to go with him wherever he takes them. That,
then, is what he proceeds to do, both in terms of time and space,
and in what gets staged, including the entire battle of Agincourt.
The Prologue is not just a defence of his own stage practice, but a
grand assertion of its superiority over humanist limits.
7
I.4.174–175 in Stanley and Wells’s edition of the Folio text.
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The inclusiveness, the “allness,” of this kind of theatre is
reflected in the term “theatre” itself. Again, it was a comparatively
new import into English: the terms that had been used earlier were
“playhouse,” or, for an outdoor venue, “gameplace.” “Theatre” was
most commonly used in the sixteenth century for a moral anatomy
of the world, a display-case for everything (as in Calderón’s Gran
Teatro del Mundo). Ortelius entitled his great atlas Theatrum Orbis
Terrarum, which was Englished as Abraham Ortelius his epitome
of the Theater of the worlde. The term covered what in medieval
Latin had been called a summa, a gathering together of the sum of
everything, the whole world, or the kind of summa of life invoked by
John Alday in 1566 homiletic Theatrum mundi, the Theatre or rule
of the world, wherein may be sene the running race and course of everye
mans life. It was only after James Burbage named his new building
the Theatre in 1576 that the term caught on to mean a purpose-built
playhouse; and the idea of the theatrum mundi was carried through
in the naming of the Globe, with its supposed motto (it is recorded
only later) of “Totus mundus agit histrionem.” It is commonly
paraphrased into the Shakespearean “All the world’s a stage” (from
As You Like It 2.7.139), though a more accurate translation might
be “Everyone (compare the French tout le monde) plays a part.” The
phrase is itself a medieval one, borrowed from the twelfth-century
Policraticus of John of Salisbury (where “exerceat” is used instead
of “agit;” Curtius 1953: 138–141). The work was printed and widely
read in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and counted Ben
Jonson among its readers. So the idea that the world is a “wide and
universal theatre” (AYLI 2.7.137) is a thoroughly medieval concept,
though it was one eagerly adopted by the early modern stage.
The idea is given one of its fullest developments in Thomas
Heywood’s prefatory poem to his Apology for Actors of 1612: another
rare statement of dramatic theory by a practising playwright, and
one whose title suggests that it should be read in tandem with, or
as a response to, Sidney’s Apology. Heywood works explicitly with
that concept of the theatre both as playhouse and as world, but to
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produce a theory that is the opposite of the neohumanist theory
of drama.
The Author to his Booke
The world’s a Theater, the earth a Stage,
Which God, and nature doth with Actors fill,
Kings haue their entrance in due equipage,
And some their parts play well and others ill. […]
This plaies an honest man, and that a knaue
A gentle person, this, and he a clowne,
One man is ragged, and another braue.
All men haue parts, and each man acts his owne.
She a chaste Lady acteth all her life,
A wanton Curtezan another playes.
This, couets marriage loue, that, nuptial strife,
Both in continuall action spend their dayes.
Some Citizens, some Soldiers, borne to aduenter,
Sheepheards and Sea-men; then our play’s begun,
When we are borne, and to the world first enter,
And all finde Exits when their parts are done.
If then the world a Theater present,
As by the roundnesse it appeares most fit,
Built with starre-galleries of hye ascent,
In which Iehoue doth as spectator sit.
And chiefe determiner to’applaud the best,
And their indeuours crowne with more then merit.
But by their euill actions doomes the rest,
To end disgrac’t whilst others praise inherit.
No Theater,
He that denyes then Theaters should be,
He may as well deny a world to me.
no world
The world is a theatre created by God, where “all men have parts,
and each man acts his own:” parts that encompass all classes
and walks of life from kings to clowns and shepherds—there is
no discrimination here by genre, and the comprehensiveness of
the cast list is the very point. The play described here, moreover,
represents the totality of human life, not just that of an individual.
The frame of the world itself is the wooden O of the playhouse,
“as by the roundnesse it appeares most fit;” and God acts as
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spectator—or rather, He is the only one who does not act, for he is
real, not a role-player: He is spectator, critic and judge. Together,
those things amount to being an exact replication of the model
of the cycle plays. The final couplet drives the point home, and
Heywood adds too the succinct summary in the marginal note,
“No Theater, no world.” The totality of human experience and
the public drama are reciprocal analogies for each other. “Play”
to Heywood as to the Middle Ages offers a total drama, recalling
the cycles that embraced Eden and the Crucifixion and damnation
and bliss, and that encompasses all earthly space and time, all of
humankind. Transposed to Shakespeare’s secular stage, theatre can
embrace within a single play all the estates of society from prince to
gravedigger, gods to brothel-keepers; everything that plays havoc
not only with the unities of time and space and action, but with
the principles of generic purity, of “right comedies” opposed to
“right tragedies,” and where the judgement is not only God’s, as the
ultimate spectator, but the audience’s too.
Heywood makes divine judgement, the ethics of human life sub
specie aeternitatis, the very point of drama. It had been the work
that medieval drama very explicitly did, but it is now claimed for
early modern drama too, just as Aristotle had seen the work that
tragedy did as the catharsis of pity and fear. Shakespeare, in the
Prologue to Henry V, locates the work of drama elsewhere: in the
imagination that had so scared Castelvetro. In his conception, plays
enlarge the imagination to the size of world. Shakespeare makes
that totality of theatre, the “summa” of the world, integral—indeed
essential—to his idea of drama, in ways that were inherited from
the basic and necessary multiplicity of the cycle plays. And “play,”
again, is the operative word, as in the last line of the Prologue,
when the audience is entreated “Gently to hear, kindly to judge,
our play.” Here, the spectators’ response is entirely secular:
the judgement invoked is not an analogy for Doomsday, as in
Heywood. It may be ethical, but it is not eternal—it is secular,
not religious. Shakespeare, however, was not always as secular as
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we tend to think. Surprisingly often (though it is perhaps not so
surprising given the intense religiosity of the age in which he lived),
he comments on the ultimate destination of characters after their
deaths. Perhaps the most famous is Mistress Quickly’s remark on
the deceased Falstaff, “He’s in Arthur’s bosom, if ever man went to
Arthur’s bosom” (Henry V 2.3.9–10); but that is not just a parody
of unlearned beliefs about judgement, it is Shakespeare’s parody
of his own practices too. He almost always indicates the ultimate
destination of the souls of all the significant characters who die
in those plays of his that have Christian settings. Often it is done
in a single line, as in Hal on Hotspur, “Take thy praise with thee
to heaven,” or Horatio on Hamlet, “Flights of angels sing thee to
thy rest.” Sometimes it amounts to a discussion, as happens over
the destination of Wolsey’s soul in Henry VIII, a play in which
Katherine of Aragon is also given a staged vision of her own entry
into Heaven. Such comments are included even if it is suggested
that the earthly judgement may be wrong: Falstaff ’s companions
predict hell for him, and Mistress Quickly does at least provide
a kind of alternative. Othello sees himself as damned, but the
audience are not required to accept his conviction, and especially
when he is set alongside the devil Iago. It is, however, always a
significant issue: that is, characters’ lives are completed in the same
ways that both the cycle plays and Heywood indicate.
The Act against the abuses of players of 1603, which forbade the
speaking of the name of God on stage, restricted that practice, but
it did not stop it; and what are traditionally (if incorrectly) seen as
Shakespeare’s last lines for the stage return to it. This is the close
of the Epilogue to the Tempest, where Prospero does not so much
step out of role as subsume the roles of both actor and playwright
into himself.
My ending is despair
Unless I be reliev’d by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
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As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
(Epilogue, 15–20)
They are lines that bring together humankind’s hope for divine
mercy at the Last Judgement, with the not-yet-forgotten
Catholic power of the living to contribute to that mercy through
indulgences; and also the judgement of the audience, who at least
for the purposes of this play, sit in the place of God.
Helen Cooper
Magdalene College, Cambridge
References
Aers, D. 1992: A Whisper in the Ear of Early Modernists; or, Reflections
on Literary Critics Writing the “History of the Subject.” In D.
Aers ed. Culture and History 1350–1600. London & Detroit,
Harvester Wheatsheaf & Wayne State University Press: 177–202.
Benjamin, W. 1998: The Origins of German Tragic Drama [J. Osborne
trans. 1963: Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiels.] New York, Verso.
Bevington, D. 1962: From “Mankind” to Marlowe: Growth of Structure in
the Popular Drama of Tudor England. Cambridge (MA), Harvard
University Press.
Castelvetro, L. 1570: Poetica d’Aristotile vulgarizzata et sposta. Vienna, G.
Stainhofer.
Cooper, H. 2010: Shakespeare and the Medieval World. London, Arden
Shakespeare.
Curtius, E. R. 1953: European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages [W. R.
Trask trans. 1948: Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter.]
Princeton, Princeton University Press.
Florio, J. 1591: Florios Second Frutes. London, Thomas Woodcock.
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García Santo Tomás, E. ed. 2006: Lope de Vega: El Arte nuevo de hacer
comedias. Madrid, Cátedra.
Heywood, T. 1612: An Apology for Actors. London, Nicholas Okes.
Lazarus, M. 2013: Aristotle’s Poetics in Renaissance England (Ph.D. thesis).
Oxford, University of Oxford.
Lewis, C. S. 1954: English Literature in the Sixteenth Century excluding
Drama. Oxford, Oxford University Press.
Lewis, C. S. 1955: De descriptione temporum. Cambridge, Cambridge
University Press.
Muir, L. R. 1995: The Biblical Drama of Medieval Europe. Cambridge,
Cambridge University Press.
REED 1975–2010: Records of Early English Drama (series). Toronto,
University of Toronto Press (continuing; now online).
Runnalls, G. 1995: Passion Plays. In W. W. Kibler & G. A. Zinn eds.
Medieval France: An Encyclopedia. New York & London, Garland:
710–712.
Wells S. & G. Taylor eds. 1986: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works.
Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Sidney, P. 2004: The Defence of Poesy. In G. Alexander ed. Sidney’s
“The Defence of Poesy” and Selected Renaissance Literary Criticism.
London, Penguin.
Spivack, B. 1958: Shakespeare and the Allegory of Evil. New York & London,
Columbia University Press.
Stern, C. 1996: The Medieval Theater in Castile. Binghamton (NY),
Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies.
Surtz, R. E. 1979: The Birth of a Theater: Dramatic Convention in Spanish
Theater from Juan del Encina to Lope de Vega. Madrid, Castalia.
Weinberg, B. 1961: A History of Literary Criticism in the Renaissance.
Chicago, University of Chicago Press.
•
Received 01 May 2014; accepted 05 Jul 2014
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REFRESHING THE LEGEND OF SHERWOOD FOREST:
MANIPULATION OF HISTORY AND TRADITION
IN RIDLEY SCOTT’S ROBIN HOOD (2010)
obert Bresson once said “Le cinéma n’est pas un
spectacle, c’est une écriture,”1 and 53 years later the theory
still holds true. Ridley Scott has both rewritten and
spectacularised Robin Hood in his 2010 movie (Robin Hood), in
which he tackles the mythos from a new perspective by presenting
the origins rather than just another spin-off. In the process, he
rewrites the legend in such a way that it fits modern audiences at
the same time that recedes in time into the more obscure Robin
Hood that first appeared in English justices the 13th century.2 It
is there that one might find the originality of the piece, since, as
Hollywood has accostumed us already, it takes some liberties with
the historical and philological sources.
The script for the movie was originally meant to be based
on an original screenplay by Ethan Reiff and Cyrus Voris called
Nottingham (Martel 2010). The plot centered around the Sheriff
of Nottingham rather than the traditional hero. The Sheriff was
Robert Tornham, a historical Sheriff of Cyprus who in the script
was invited to be Sheriff in England by Richard the Lionheart
as payment for his good deeds in the siege of Cyprus. This back
story provides a more emotional view of the famous antagonist, in
opposition to a more terrorist-like view of the endearing Merry
Men, who now carry chaos into the otherwise tranquil Sherwood
Forest. The plot of this first script tried to steer clear of the most
standard Robin Hood elements and into something more of a CSI
R
1
Cahiers de Cinéma, October 1957, p. 5.
2
It should be noted, though, that the earliest literary appearences of
Robin Hood are the ballads in William Langland’s Piers Plowman (c.
1360–87): “I kan noght parfitly my Paternoster as the preest it syngeth,
But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood and Randolf Erl of Chestre” (v.395).
ISSN: 1132–631X
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show of the Middle Ages. The Sheriff sets out to investigate a series
of strange murders in Sherwood Forest, which lead him to chase
Robin Hood, only to find out in the end that the mighty hero was
being framed. Reiff himself asserted that he and his team used real
12th-century source material to research medieval English forensic
investigation techniques. “We didn’t make too much up out of the
blue,” he affirmed (Reiff 2010). Unfortunately that was not to hold
true with the version that would actually see the light.
With the signing of Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe, Brian
Helgeland was hired to rewrite the script. It was not a one-time
conversion, but a series of adaptations that saw many ideas, most of
them new to the traditional depiction of the legend. At one point
the project took a Fight-Club-esque twist which contemplated
Robin and the Sheriff being the same person (Horowitz 2008).
Why such a fresh idea, and perhaps the most original Robin Hood
plot to date, was turned into a rather forgettable movie is anyone’s
guess. It seems that Scott did not like any of the original ideas,
and thus settled for a more traditional approach. Allegedly, Scott’s
fascination with archery aided in the final product, which was a
very dramatic alteration of the plot, as explained in by Hollywood
screenwriter William Martel (Martel 2010). The final cut answers
to Ridley Scott’s ideas, which shape the remake almost entirely:
Robin is an evermighty bowman belonging to Richard the
Lionheart’s army as head of a specialized archery division where
he fights amongst Alan-a-Dale and Will Scarlet (coincidentally
represented as a “scarlet” headed Welsh), who are returning home
from the crusades only to find that John I has taken the throne and
is ruling with an iron fist. Needless to say, archery is an important
element in the film, and key to the elaboration of the characters.
The result is the accommodation of more traditional characters and
a name change that falls in line with the plethora of Robin Hoods
already out there (Carroll 2010). As a matter of fact, Walter Scott
already pictured this scenario: in his 1820 novel Ivanhoe, we see
Robin fighting against John Lackland in order to restore Richard
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the Lionheart’s throne. Certainly this is no coincidence, and Ridley
Scott surely was familiar with Walter Scott’s work.
While the execution of the film may leave some things to be
desired, and the story may have nearly nothing in common with the
original script, the project does present a few refreshing elements
on the over-exploited theme that Douglas Fairbanks popularized.
Despite its low scores on IMDB3 and Rotten Tomatoes,4 the film
peaked as the second-highest grossing medieval-themed movie
ever, only surpassed by Kevin Costner’s 1991 Robin Hood: Prince
of Thieves, and it scored over $320 million during its first month.
The film attempts to move away from the more conventional,
hackneyed version of the Man in Green Tights by telling the origin
of the famed hero rather than one his exploits, perhaps influenced
by a spat of prequel movies that have proved fairly successful in
recent years, be it the famed Star Wars prequel trilogy released
between 1999 and 2005, or Red Dragon (2002), prequel to Silence
of the Lambs. The project is, thus, new enough to pique the interest
of the audience yet close enough to the more traditional versions
to make it recognizable. The primary fallout, however, lies in the
everpresent tradition of trying to understand medieval England
through postmillennial western eyes. This is understandable since
it carries a great deal of modern baggage, ranging from Jungian
psychoanalysis to women’s rights movements. This all contributes
to the transformation of classical or medieval models of heroism,
rendering them anachronistic in many ways. The film’s relevance
from a critical perspective lies precisely in its reshaping of the
traditional elements. The divergence in tradition granted the film
3
Internet Movie DataBase is an online database and rating platform for movies,
television, and video games owned by Amazon.com and one of the top 50 websites
in terms of traffic, with over 52 million registered users.
4
Rotten Tomatoes is a film review aggregator and forum owned by Warner Bros.
subsidiary Flixter. Though not as massive as IMDB, it is a highly popular website
amongst film fanatics.
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low acclaim by critics. These “inaccuracies,” however, are somewhat
of a tradition in itself for most films, especially in Scott’s own (let
us not forget the dynastic liberties in Gladiator [2000] or the
complete remaking of history in Kingdom of Heaven [2005]), and
yet Ridley Scott’s Robin manages to remain unlike the majority of
his predecessors, retaining some the original script’s initial spirit.
We see a Sheriff of Sherwood Forest (Matthew Macfadyen) that is
more pathetic, almost pitiful, that seems to want the audience to feel
sorry for him; and the odious Godfrey (Mark Strong) usurping the
role of the main antagonist. Russell Crowe is a darker and heftier
Robin than other Hollywood icons, and the figure that emerges in
this film is closer to the older, more violent tradition of the legend.
In fact, Ridley Scott redraws some of the central characters in the
traditional plotline (like Marian and Friar Tuck) and introduces a
new figure (Walter Loxley) which forces a redefinition of Robin’s
identity, more in touch with the earlier appearances of the 13th and
14th centuries.
The figure of Maid Marian is one that has a long history of
interpretations. In the Kevin Costner epic Robin Hood: Prince of
Thieves (1991), she is a maternal cousin to the sovereign, while in
the BBC TV Show adaption of 2006 she is the daughter of the
former Sheriff and was betrothed to Robin before he left for the
Holy Land. The majority of Marians out there are those of dainty
women or princesses, save for the occasional and not mainstream
feminist prototype, as in the Forestwife novels by Theresa
Tomlinson. At the end of the pathway lies Ridley Scott’s Marian
(Cate Blanchett), a strong powerful woman, of noble origin yet
skilled in combat techniques and fairly independent. One would not
expect less nowadays, when female characters are rising rapidly as
heroic figures. The popular response to the surge of female warrior
characters is thus divided between those who favor the claim to
power of historically submissive female characters, and those who
see that the heroic virtues attributed to these women are but male
traits crudely transplanted. However, Maid Marian remains true to
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her early appearances in the 16th century: “A bonny fine maid of
a noble degree” who searches for Robin Hood “With quiver and
bow, sword, buckler and all, /Thus armed was Marian most bold”
(Child 2003: iii.219)
Friar Tuck (Mark Addy) undergoes a similar rewriting. In
Ridley Scott’s film he appears as the traditional fat, bald and jovial
monk with a great love of ale, but with the swordsmanship, archery
skills and hot-headed temper that characterised him in the original
versions of the 16th century. Thus, the literary Tuck provides a
perfect character for Ridley Scott and his signature combat set
pieces as well as the go-to comic relief, which is actually a role
often played by him in the earlier original appearances. He provides
moments of gratuitous absurdity at times, especially when he first
robs a chariot with the bishop’s grain and later ravages some French
soldiers with beehives (from which he distills illegal honey mead).
The truth, however, is that the original Friar Tuck is much more
along the lines of the rest of the characters in the film. This makes
sense so as to keep the coherence of the plot: even though his
original character came out of the 16th century May Games, he
truly belongs to the darker early Middle Ages, giving more unity
to the combination of personalities in the film.
Scott also makes what appears to be a clever yet obscure wink to
the Robin Hood universe that may well have a pivotal importance
in the future development of the story by introducting Walter
Loxley (Max von Sydow), Maid Marian’s father-in-law in the
film. The frame of an “origin story,” especially one that has not
been approached yet, allows for this kind of reinterpretations and
complications. This character means a redefinition of the hero’s
identity through a clever shifting of names: in the film, Robin is
never Hood, but Longstride. Marian’s father-in-law, whose name
is Sir Walter of Loxley, claims to have fought with Longstride’s
father in past years. Sir Walter Loxley is of noble origins, come to
decadence because of rising taxes and bad management of the realm.
In later flashbacks, we see that Robin’s father was, in fact, friends
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with Walter and died because of his obstination in seeking victory
against the tyrannical rule of the king (one previous to John I). The
name Robert/Robin de Locksley (or Loxley) has been attributed to
Robin Hood ever since his first appearances so it comes as a curious
coincidence that Walter’s son, Robert de Loxley, should die in the
arms of Robin Longstride, and that the latter is now occupying
the sentimental role of Walter’s son. But perhaps it is not that
farfetched of an idea. Returning to Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe, Robin
Hood is a Saxon nobleman that goes by the last name Locksley.
This information has two key elements: the fact that he goes by
the name Locksley, and that he should be of Saxon origin.
By using the name Loxley in such a way, Ridley Scott is
referencing the original and ambiguous identity of the hero and
the result is a possible reformatting of the basic historical story
structure: that Robin Hood is not one man but, at least, two.
Longstride’s mission to return the remains of Loxley’s son, killed
by the French, establishes a connection between the two and
triggers the conversion of Crowe’s character into the famous hero.
Robin Hood is an entity, a leader that fights for justice, not just
one person, but many individuals who occupy the role. This theory
then implies that it is not until Robin Longstride takes the role
(unknowingly, one assumes) that the legend becomes such and
that the historical implications become more than a few skirmishes
against the royal forces. It is not until the end of the movie, when
Robin has proved himself worthy of the legend, that he is referred
to as “Robin of the Hood.”
The film, in any case, is not devoid of familiarity. Even though
the plot is centered around the genesis of the figure of Hood,
and one may even infer a total twist of the popular story, there is
abundance of archetypal motifs to which the audience can relate.
The usage of previously known bits of a story is a strong element
in most prequels or “origin” stories, since it allows the public to
relate on a satisfaction-based level by allowing some to understand
and some to obliviously pass these references. The strongpoint is
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made evident in that these references create but a second layer to
the film, even though it can be easily followed and enjoyed by those
who are not familiar with them. It makes the invented origin much
more plausible in the eyes of the spectator, and also attracts more
spectators.
The other notable element is Walter Scott’s presentation of
Robin as a Saxon nobleman, which has darker implications that may
seem at first hand. At one point in the film we have a Germanic or
Anglo-saxon funeral, that is, a ritual burning on a pyre. Not only
would it be unlikely that a Christian lord be burnt on a pyre rather
than buried, it was also illegal and contrary to the teachings of the
Church. It is curious, however, that these characters were to be
associated with Germanic images if we were to look at it through a
Whiggish approach to history.5 Whig historiography asumes that
the past is but an inevitable path, winding progressively towards an
ever-greater liberty and enlightenment. It thus focuses on successful
ideas, rather than failed theories. It originates during the 17th
century, right around the time Robin Hood’s legend is becoming
standardised and gentrified. In the Whig view of history, Germanic
and Anglo-Saxon imagery has a positive connotation attached to
liberty and democratic values in opposition to the conceived notion
of tyrannical rule, associated with the Normans and the Catholics,
as is the case in stories like Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe. The introduction
of a Germanic funeral in the film now seems more logical, just as
logical as the fact that Robin should be a Saxon nobleman. In fact,
Whig historiography originates in the 18th century as a result of the loss in
popularity of the constitutional monarchy in England. Before Whig history,
the model society of England were the Normans as well as the Arthurian myth,
through which the crown was legitimized. The original historiographic source
was, thus, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae (c. 1130). After
Whig history becomes mainstream, the focus centers on Anglo-Saxon views
of society as a means to justify British history as a march of progress whose
inevitable outcome is the constitutional monarchy. The historical source becomes
Wace’s Roman de Brut (c. 1150) and anything French or Norman (e.g. Monmouth’s
Historia) would seem as opposing and thus a hindering of England’s progression.
5
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the movie plays with this notion: the spectator first encounters
Robin fighting with Richard the Lionheart, one would asume,
thus, that he is either a Norman or a sympathetic to the cause.
But through climactic flashbacks we learn that his father was a
nobleman that fought for liberty against the Norman kings. This
implies a subtle allegory: Robin fights for the Normans but later
learns he is not one of them, a cathartic moment in which he
decides to oppose the absolutist King John I in order to restore
the balance claimed by the noblemen to which his father belonged.
The absolute monarchy of the Normans dueling the mutually
dependent Saxon law of the people. This is textbook Whig
historiography. This theory is further justified in the story by
the exaggerated French antagonism or by the fact that free people
under Danelaw became persecuted under Norman law in Sherwood
forest (Reddish 2012). Even the music in the film hints at this: a
subtle score with clear Celtic and Germanic influences that backs
the action. The Germanic-style funeral is but a way of inferring
that these noblemen where Saxons themselves, and thus exalting
the Saxon or Germanic roots of “the good guys.”
Not surprisingly, Scott not only invents Robin’s origin, but also
a good part of English medieval history in the process. Many films
have done so in order to accommodate a plot that would not make
sense otherwise, changing the course of history on the way. There
again lies some of the originality of the film. Though some of
the historical pretensions of Scott’s film are rather preposterous,
they are also made to seem strangely possible, including the stellar
appearances of other-timely gadgets. This is mere Hollywood
entertainment, where there is an innate need to spectacularize and
give a more epic touch to the story. This need of grandiose spectacle
is not new to Hollywood, and is especially abundant in previous
Ridley Scott films. Movies like the aforementioned Kingdom of
Heaven (2005) or Tristan & Isolde (2006) have taken liberally on
their source materials.
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First and foremost, the French invading the lands of England by
crossing the English Channel may look implausible to an audience
with a basic knowledge of British history, as the intermittent war
between the English and French crowns in the medieval period was
fought mostly on continental soil. The episode is made even more
unbelievable as we see the French disembarking in the beaches
of southern England in specialised landing ships in a scene more
worthy of Saving Private Ryan than 13th century England. The mere
consideration of a possibility of this happening is ludicrous, since
the first example of a specialized landing craft of any sort appeared
in 1920, well over 700 years after the film takes place. The film’s
narrative, however, is not without historical basis. There was indeed
an attempt at invasion in 1216, in the context of the First Barons’
War, as the noblemen who rebelled against John offered the
throne to prince Louis of France and asked him to invade England.
Scott, instead, has the barons help the King to repel the French.
This rewriting of a historical event is not surprising, taking into
account Mr. Scott’s idea of their gaulois neighbours. The animosity
towards the French is rather amusing and over the top. It seems a
bit stereotypical, especially since the action is set in a time when
the differences between one and the other weren’t that clear. That
the director is English does not help hide this fact: we see King
Philip of France slurping oysters in the midst of a war in what we
can interpret as a brazen attempt at separating the “good” factions
from the “evil” ones. It is fairly anachronistic as well, for this image
fits more into the “Freedom Fries” era of post-9/11 anti-French
sentiment than in the 1200’s. The amusement reaches its peak when
the French, being French, have their chefs serving soup (cassoulette
or pot au feu, one imagines) in the middle of the siege, one of
whom, on a mere whim, picks up a crossbow and kills Richard
the Lionheart, changing the course of British history forever.
Again, Scott attributes post-millennial perspectives conceived for
post-millennial spectators to medieval events. Although seemingly
comical, the idea that an ordinary, anonymous person can have
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such an impact on history is a rather attractive democratic notion,
one that is exploited by Robin Hood (assuming he was anonymous
at the time, which the film also implies) during the rest of the
movie, which loads Robin with trappings of heroism that prove
his democratic attitude, sometimes paralysing the narrative. As A.
O. Scott sumarises in his New York Times article, “[Robin Hood]
is for liberty though—the English kind, by the way—so if you
have anything bad to say about him, you’d better say it in French”
(Scott 2010). This idea of populism is not strange to either Scott
nor Crowe, since we see the same process exploited in movies like
Gladiator. Some might even argue that the character of Robin
Hood too closely ressembles that of Maximus in the 2000 film.
As happened in Gladiator, he is actor to a world-changing historic
event: as a Roman he plotted to overthrow the Emperor himself,
and as Robin he will become the percursor of Magna Carta. Just
one more historical liberty in Hollywood’s long lived tradition.
Robin is not directly responsible for the signing of the 1215
document, but, according to the film, he took a first draft of the
charter to the King in 1199, who then proceeds to burn it after
swearing on his mother’s life (apparently the only reasonable French
person in the film) that he would sign it. In Mr. Scott’s words:
“[i]f there were to be a sequel to Robin Hood, you would have a
constant enemy throughout, King John, and you would follow his
reign of 17 years, and the signing of Magna Carta could be Robin’s
final act.”6 We can assume then that this was meant as segue for
future films more than as a history lesson. Having Magna Carta
be something belonging to the lower classes is another democratic
notion that befits modern times, but in reality it was a vindication
of the privileges of the Barons against those of the King (Bartlett
2000; Ramos 2004). Hardly something a mason, as it is implied in
the film, would be able to conceive, let alone enact.
Sunday Times interview, April 3rd , 2010
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In all fairness, Scott and his team did put some effort into
making the film seem, at the very least, historically plausible.
Erin McCarthy wrote a piece for Popular Mechanics7 in which we
learn that, “to make sure it was historically accurate, designers
hit the books—and the museums, including the British Museum
in London and the Royal Armories in Leeds” (McCarthy 2010).
The result is a set of weapons that mostly look realistic. Some
incongruencies arise from the over-elaborated siege ram, or the
helmet worn by Crowe’s character, which is somewhat of an every
type of helmet and none at the same time.
But perhaps the most serious problem when we approach
the film is one that involves not only the director, but also the
spectators. It is a problem that affects not this film in particular,
but almost all of the film reinterpretations of famous legends,
stories or traditions. To remold the legend of Robin Hood in this
manner is to look upon a legend that started out with a very basic
and obscure plotline through contemporary eyes. The result is that
there is often a comparison between versions, one is usually that is
better or worse than another because it does or does not respect that
general structure that was established long ago. Perhaps a modern
idea of authorship makes us believe that anything that modifies
the original story is of inferior quality, but in reality the obscure
origins of the legend provide a lot of room for innovation and
remodelation. The story has evolved with each time period having
a different view, consequence of the cultural values and ideals of
the time. In this way, 21st century rewritings of the Robin Hood
legend are going to be different, and that is the natural course of
events. The weight of Ridley Scott’s version on the overall course
of the legend will not be determined until many years from now.
Perhaps the originality of the plot will be undermined by medieval
purists, perhaps its historical inaccuracies will weigh the film down,
7
Popular Mechanics is a classic magazine regarding science, automotive and
technology. Its first issue dates from 1902 and is published by Hearst Corporation.
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or perhaps it may remain as one version that tied together loose
strings that elevate its relevance to history and continue a popular
tradition. Only time will tell; at least the success of Scott’s version
makes clear that Robin and his men still have some merry years to
go.
Eneas Caro Partridge
Universidad de Sevilla
REFERENCES
Bartlett, R. 2000: England under the Norman and Angevin Kings, 1075–
1225. Oxford, Clarendon Press.
Carroll, L. 2009: Ridley Scott Reveals New Name for “Nottingham” and
It’s Back to Basics. Retrieved from: www.moviesblog.mtv.com,
17/06/2013.
Child, F. J. 2003 [1882–1898]: The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (10
vols.). New York, Dover Publications.
Fleming, M. 2007: Scott set for “Nottingham.” Retrieved from www.
variety.com, 04/03/2013.
Hahn, T. 2000: Robin Hood in Popular Culture: Violence, Transgression,
and Justice. Cambridge, D.S. Brewer.
Hill, C. 1997: Liberty against the Law: Some Seventeenth-century
Controversies. London, Penguin: II. 5-6
Horowitz, J. 2008: Russell Crowe Will Play Robin Hood AND The Sheriff
In Ridley Scott’s “Nottingham.” Retrieved from www.moviesblog.
mtv.com, 27/09/2008.
Holt, J. C. 1989: Robin Hood. London, Thames & Hudson.
Holt, J. C. 1992: Magna Carta. Cambridge, University Press.
Holt, F. C. 1960: The Origins and Audience of the Ballads of Robin
Hood. Past & Present 18: 89-110.
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Knight, S. 2009: Robin Hood: a Mythic Biography. New York, Cornell
University Press.
Schmidt, A. V. C. ed. 1978: The Vision of Piers Plowman: A Complete
Edition of the B-Text. London, Everyman.
Martel, W. 2010: Robbing From The Poor (Writer). Retrieved from www.
sex-in-a-sub.blogspot.com, 20/05/2013.
Mccarthy, E. 2010: Designers Recreate Medieval Weapons for New Robin
Hood. Retrieved from www.popularmechanics.com, 22/04/2013.
Ramos Pluma, A. 2004: Carta Magna: licencia para oprimir a los pobres.
La verdad sobre la historia. Mexico DF, Reader’s Digest México.
Reddish, S. & Mallet, L. 2012: According to Ancient Custom: Research
on the Possible Origins and Purpose of Thynghowe Sherwood Forest.
Paper presented at the National Museum of Iceland, Reykjavík.
Reiff, E. 2010: Interview by Allen Wright for Robin Hood, bold outlaw
of Barnsdale and Sherwood. Retrieved from www.boldoutlaw.com,
22/05/2013.
Scott, A. O. 2010: Rob the Rich? Give to the Poor? Retrieved from www.
nytimes.com, 22/05/2013.
Scott, R. dir. 2000: Gladiator. Dreamworks SKG and Universal Pictures.
Scott, R. dir. 2005: Kingdom of Heaven. Twentieth Century Fox.
Scott, R. dir. 2010: Robin Hood. Universal Pictures.
•
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Amodio, Mark C. 2014: The Anglo-Saxon Literature Handbook.
Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell. xvi + 412 pp. Paperback. ISBN 978-0631-22698-⒎ 27.99€
he OXFORD ENGLISH DICTIONARY defines “Handbook,”
on the second entry of the term, as “a book containing
concise information on a particular subject; a guidebook.”
You do not need to revise its back cover to state that the book
object of this review could be classified as such. Specially if this
book constitutes, in the humble opinion of this reviewer, not a
handbook but the handbook on Anglo-Saxon Literature, whose
fate will be to become the standard introductory reference of our
field.
In the academic world very few important things are produced
without acknowledging—or challenging—what others have
previously done. That is especially true in the academic genre of
the handbook/companion/guide, where previous scholars have
done a tremendous amount of work on the subject. If Bernard of
Chartres stated back in the 12th century that scholars were just
“nanos gigantum humeris insidentes,” i.e. “dwarfs standing on the
shoulders of giants,” it is clear that references such as Solopova &
Lee (2007), North & Allard (2007), Treharne & Walker (2010),
Stodnick & Trilling (2012), Lees (2013), or Godden & Lapidge’s
(2013) new edition of their classic companion, constitute important
previous enta geweorc whose authors could be seen as those giants
upon which contemporary handbook writers need to stand on,
although none of the aforementioned references are mentioned
in the bibliography, exception made of Godden and Lapidge’s
Companion in its first edition. Mark Amodio is no dwarf, but an
academic giant who, as Newton stated popularizing Bernard of
Chartres’s saying, “has seen further by standing in the shoulders
of giants.” His handbook, though written in the tradition of the
aforementioned references, not only sees further in the field but sees
through the problems of its vastness, being thus a volume written
T
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by, as Andy Orchard highlights in its back cover, “one of the finest
teachers in the field. This is exactly the kind of book I wish I had
read when I was a student, and exactly the kind of book I wish I
had written myself.” That is the feeling we all lecturers have: we are
facing the book we all wanted to write and use with our students,
to recommend to those interested in Anglo-Saxon Literature. Not
a handbook, but the handbook. Let me describe, then, this volume
and some of the reasons for such a statement.
The structure of the volume combines sections that
traditionally tend to appear in handbooks with parts that present
a new way to understand the information contained in them.
After the standard introductory material (i–xix) typical of the
“handbook” genre—Table of contents, Preface by the author,
Acknowledgments, Note on the Text and List of Abbreviations—
the reader will find the contents of the book organised in five
different parts. Part 1, “Anglo-Saxon England: Backgrounds and
Beginnings” (1–32), offers a rather innovative way to introduce
the topic. Several theoretical concepts need to be explained first
to give the essential context any introduction to Anglo-Saxon
Literature needs. As such context has to constitute a “brief and
necessarily selective overview” (15), Amodio presents an accessible,
brief and excellently written concise summary of the key points
concerning the political, ecclesiastical, intellectual, linguistic and
literary history of the period. Two final sections on orality and
literacy (“Traditions: Oral and Literate”) and on dating OE texts
(“A Note on Dating Anglo-Saxon Texts”) close this first part,
together with a succinct but complete further reading list on the
section’s topics.
Part 2 starts the literary discussion and explanation. Here we
see for the first time the structure that the reader will find in the
rest of the handbook. Every text—or set of texts—discussed in
the volume present the same organization. First, a small paragraph
gives the precise codicological information of the text (MS, folio,
lacunae, etc); then, the proper reading/analysis of the text follows.
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With an allotted space of three-four pages for every text, a difficulty
indeed if you have to write an analysis of the entire Anglo-Saxon
corpus, Amodio manages quite successfully to give a concise, highly
precise and superbly written account on the fundamental issues of
every text, taking into account not only the most updated scholarly
arguments but also the most original points of view in discussing
them. At the end of every section a further reading list follows;
this section could be a minor thing, but having a close look at
it is enough to reveal Amodio’s outstanding command of AngloSaxon scholarship: the list of references given always combine
classical references in the field from the 1960s to the 1990s with
contemporary essential academic work published in the first
decade of the 21st century (2000s–2010s). The labour of selecting
the references reveals the knowledge Amodio has of them, as
he always gives the essential further reading works. Virtually no
important aspect is left unrevised in the texts and no major critical
bibliographical reference is missed in the reference list.
With this in mind, the contents of the book for parts 2 and 3
present the expected and customary division in Prose and Poetry.
Hence, Part 2 “Anglo-Saxon Prose” (33–133) presents a full account
of the OE prose corpus with the aforementioned structure. It
covers the writings of King Alfred the Great (Alfred’s Translation of
Pope Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care, of Boethius’s Consolation
of Philosophy, of St Augustine’s Soliloquies, of the Prose Psalms of
the Paris Psalter and his Preface to Wærferth’s Translation of Pope
Gregory’s Dialogues), the Vercelli Homilies, The Blickling Homilies,
the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the Old English Orosius, Bede’s
Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Apollonius of Tyre, the
Old English Martyrology, The Life of St Guthlac, The Wonders of
the East, The Letter of Alexander to Aristotle, and The Life of St
Christopher (quite conveniently in a joint section), Bald’s Leechbook
and Leechbook III, the writings of Wulfstan and the writings of
Ælfric of Eynsham (Catholic Homilies, Lives of Saints, Colloquy
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on the Occupations, and a very appropriate and original section on
Ælfric as Author).
Similarly, Part 3 deals with “Anglo-Saxon Poetry” (135–332)
with the same aim of exhaustion and in-depth analysis. After an
initial section on the Anglo-Saxon poetic tradition, which gives
the necessary contextual and thematic common features shared by
the extant corpus of Old English poetry, this part proceeds with a
thorough analysis of that corpus itself, organized in the traditional
manuscript division. Thus, once Cædmon’s Hymn & Bede’s Death
Song have been described as “foundational” pieces of this OE
poetic tradition, this section revises the Junius Manuscript (Genesis
A, Genesis B, Exodus, Daniel and Christ and Satan, the poems of the
Vercelli Book (Andreas, Fates of the Apostles, Soul and Body I (and II),
Homiletic Fragment I, The Dream of the Rood and Elene), the Exeter
Book in its entirety and complexity (The Advent Lyrics [Christ I],
The Ascension [Christ II], Christ in Judgement [Christ III], Life of
St Guthlac, Guthlac A, Guthlac B, Azarias, The Phoenix, Juliana,
The Wanderer, The Gifts of Men, Precepts, The Seafarer, Vainglory,
Widsið, The Fortunes of Men, Maxims I, The Order of the World,
The Rhyming Poem, The Panther, The Whale, The Partridge: The
Old English Physiologus, Soul and Body II (and I), Deor, Wulf and
Eadwacer, the Exeter Book Riddles, The Wife’s Lament, Judgement
Day I, Resignation [A and B], The Descent into Hell, Almsgiving,
Pharaoh, The Lord’s Prayer I, Homiletic Fragment II, The Husband’s
Message, and The Ruin), the equally complex and thematically
dense poems of Cotton Vitellius A.xv (Beowulf and Judith, whose
section is by far the longest piece of the handbook) and a final
miscellaneous section on poems from various manuscripts (The
Metres of Boethius, The Metrical Psalms of the Paris Psalter, Solomon
and Saturn I and II, The Menologium, The Rune Poem, The Poems
of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, The Battle of Brunanburh, The
Battle of Maldon, The Fight at Finnsburh, Waldere and Durham).
We could say that these two sections constitute the novelty,
as the information contained in them does not tend to appear in
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handbooks and companions, which are keen on discussing the
topics and themes of Anglo-Saxon Literature rather than the
texts themselves; perhaps the only exception to the handbooks
mentioned at the beginning of this review could be Johnson &
Treharne (2005), which offered a combined approach. This sort
of textual-based explanation is rather more prone to be included
in anthologies of translated texts such as North, Allard and Gillies
(2011), Treharne (2010) or even the classic Bradley (1982) volume.
For the aims of this handbook these first two parts are essential
and somewhat mandatory; hence, the perfect complement to this
previous exhaustive analysis of the texts had to be a discussion of
their interpretation and research themes; that is precisely what
Amodio includes in Parts 4 and 5: critical approaches and themes.
Part 4, “Critical Approaches” (333–360), follows then this
aforementioned main trend. After stating, in a brief section labelled
“The Alterity of Anglo-Saxon Literature,” the “inherent otherness”
(338) of the literature composed in this period, Amodio proceeds to
give a succinct account on the guidelines that build the theoretical
framework of the main critical approaches—in his opinion—to
Anglo-Saxon Literature: Source Studies, Manuscript Studies,
Grammatical and Syntactic Studies and Theoretical Perspectives,
a section in which he deals with the issue in more detail by
mentioning specific “perspectives” or areas of theoretical analysis
(“Christianity,” “Germanic legend,” “Gender,” “Psychological” and
“Oral-traditional”). The approach is somewhat brief, similar to
what you could find in some recent volumes devoted to revising key
concepts, like those by Solopova & Lee (2007) or Franzten (2012).
Amodio is totally aware of the fact that “anything like a complete
treatment of the history of Anglo-Saxon literary criticism falls well
beyond the scope of [his handbook]” (338), so his brief key-concept
oriented approach is more than adequate to his aims.
As a complement to this, Amodio offers a final part—Part 5,
“Themes” (361–380)—in which he revises, with brevity but with
lots of wit, some “major and minor themes that percolate through
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the poetry and prose extant from the Anglo-Saxon period” (361).
He begins with a caveat defining his conception of “theme” in
“Anglo-Saxon Thematics” and continues with a revision of some
of those themes that follow his description: “Heroism,” “The End
of the World,” “The Transitory Nature of Life,” “Fate,” “Wisdom,”
“Otherness” and “Oral-Traditional Themes.” The reader has again
the same déjà-vu feeling of facing a key-concept entry-like section
(Frantzen 2012 is the reference that comes to mind) and one wishes
to have read more on every topic, but the aims are very specific and
the scope of these two parts is limited; the result is, then, highly
interesting and complementary. The absence of a “further reading”
section in Parts 4 and 5 constitutes the only drawback of these two
parts. Due to the brevity of the sections, having done something
similar to the reference sections found in the main parts of the
handbook would have been much helpful to the reader. Including
such a section is my suggestion for further editions.
The volume is closed (381–412) with the customary and useful
cross-reference sections: a general “Bibliography” with all the
references used, an “Index” of key words and names and an “Index
of Manuscripts.”
All in all, as I said before, Amodio’s handbook is destined to
be the handbook on Anglo-Saxon Literature from now onwards
for his quality, concision, exhaustiveness and width of scope. I
mentioned how this sort of textual-based explanation is typically
included in anthologies of translated texts; when you finish reading
Amodio’s excellent sections on, for instance, Guthlac or Deor, you
wish to have the text there with you to be instantly enjoyed and
devoured with Amodio’s critical insights fresh on your mind. It
is true than we can all very easily go to our shelves and pick one
of the aforementioned anthologies or any other edition of those
OE texts, but as a reader I would find perfection if I just had a
complementary volume with Amodio’s translations of the texts
he described so brilliantly. Let this be a wishful thinking sort of
suggestion to Wiley-Blackwell and the author himself.
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At the beginning of this review I quoted the Oxford English
Dictionary’s second entry of the term “Handbook;” the first entry
reads as follows: “the manual of medieval ecclesiastical offices and
ritual.” As members of the “order” of Anglo-Saxonists, we are most
lucky to use Amodio’s handbook to perform our rituals and offices
when celebrating—in all the meanings gathered in the OED entry
for the verb “celebrate”—the teaching of Anglo-Saxon Literature
in due form.1
Jorge Luis Bueno Alonso
Universidade de Vigo
References
Bradley, S. A. J. ed. & trans. 1982: Anglo-Saxon Poetry. London, Dent.
Franzten, A. J. 2012: Anglo-Saxon Keywords (Keywords in Literature and
Culture). Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell.
Godden, M. & M. Lapidge eds. 2013: The Cambridge Companion to Old
English Literature. 2nd edition. Cambridge, Cambridge University
Press.
Johnson, D. & E. Treharne eds. 2005: Readings in Medieval Texts:
Interpreting Old and Middle English Literature. Oxford, Oxford
University Press.
Lees, C. E. ed. 2013: The Cambridge History of Early Medieval English
Literature. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
1
Research made to write this review was funded by the Spanish Ministerio de
Economía y Competividad, grant numbers FFI2013-44065-P and FFI201451873-REDT and by the Galician Autonomous Govement (“Plan de Axudas para
a Consolidación e Estruturación de Unidades de Investigación Competitivas do
Sistema Universitario Galego,” grant numbers R2014/016 and GPC2014/060).
These grants are hereby gratefully acknowledged.
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North, R. & J. Allard eds. 2007: Beowulf & Other Stories: A New
Introduction to Old English, Old Icelandic and Anglo-Norman
Literatures. London, Longman/Pearson Education.
North, R., J. Allard & P. Gillies 2011: Longman Anthology of Old English,
Old Icelandic and Anglo-Norman Literatures. London, Longman/
Pearson Education.
Solopova, E. & S. D. Lee 2007: Key Concepts in Medieval Literature
(Palgrave Key Concepts Series). Houndmills, Palgrave Macmillan.
Stodnick, J. & R. R. Trilling eds. 2012: A Handbook of Anglo-Saxon
Studies. Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell.
Treharne, E. ed & trans. 2010: Old and Middle English c.890–c.1450: An
Anthology. 3rd edition. Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell.
Treharne, E. & G. Walker eds. 2010: The Oxford Handbook of Medieval
Literature in English. Oxford, Oxford University Press.
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Fulk, R. D. 2014: An Introductory Grammar of Old English with an
Anthology of Readings. Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies
463. MRTS Texts for Teaching 8. Tempe (AZ): ACMRS. pp. xii +
332. ISBN: 978-0-86698-514-⒎ $40.
ld English pedagogy has a long history that
stretches back, at least, to the late seventh century. In
his Ecclesiastical History of the English People (v.2), Bede
records how John of Beverly, then bishop of Hexham, taught Old
English to a dumb and sickly youth. The bishop started with the
single word “gæ” (“yes”) and proceeded to educate the boy in the
pronunciation of individual sounds, followed by syllables, words and,
finally, longer sentences. Then, a miracle took place: the boy, who
had previously not been able to speak, now talked incessantly and,
moreover, the boy’s bald head, which had been covered in hideous
scabs and scales, was now fully cured and covered with beautiful,
curly hair. The overall structure of Bishop John’s course in Old
English, with its initial overview of sounds and gradual progression
towards longer, complex sentences, is still surprisingly akin to the
growing number of modern-day Old English textbooks, to which
Fulk’s Introductory Grammar is the latest addition. However,
whereas introductions such as those by McGillivray (2011), Baker
(3rd edn., 2012) and Mitchell & Robinson (8th edn., 2012) have
started catering for students who, much like Bishop John’s mute
youth, have little to no knowledge of traditional grammatical
and linguistic terminology, Fulk’s grammar is explicitly aimed at
more advanced learners of Old English with a decidedly linguistic
interest.
With its linguistic focus, Fulk’s Introductory Grammar differs
from other textbooks on the market today. In an overview of
twenty-first-century introductions to Old English, Scheil (2007)
notes a trend in modern textbooks to put more emphasis on
cultural and historical background and, on occasion, oversimplify
linguistic matters. While this approach is well-suited for the
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majority of Old English learners today, who come to Old English
out of a cultural or historical interest and with no knowledge of
(or taste for) linguistics, it leaves some students uncatered for.
Scheil warns that “some graduate students, particularly confident
ones thoroughly committed to language study, might be put off
by such lowest-common-denominator rhetoric” (2007: 52). Those
students, more interested in learning linguistic matters for their
own sake rather than as pragmatic translation aids, will be pleased
with the keen attention to philological detail offered by Fulk’s
Introductory Grammar.
As noted in Fulk’s preface, his Introductory Grammar takes its cue
from Marckwardt & Rosier’s Old English Language and Literature
(1972). This influence is particularly clear in the organizing
principle of its twenty-one individual chapters. Like Marckwardt
& Rosier, Fulk has decided against chapters that deal exclusively
with one facet of language. Rather, the chapters always deal with a
variety of subjects, seemingly placed together at random, interlaced
with brief exercises and concluded by an Old English reading from
the Gospels or Apollonius of Tyre. As a result, the seven classes of
strong verbs are discussed in four subsequent chapters, interlaced
with information about prefixes, absolute constructions, i-stem
nouns and negative concord. The organizing principle of these
chapters serves a pedagogical purpose, forcing students to go
through the material gradually and offering a variety in aspects of
language discussed per chapter, rather than bombarding them with
all possible information about a particular part of speech in one go.
While this approach may aid cumulative learning, it also makes the
Introductory Grammar, unlike Baker (3rd edn., 2012) and Mitchell
& Robinson (8th edn., 2012), less effective as a reference grammar,
despite its brief index of grammatical subjects.
In many ways, Fulk’s Introductory Grammar is more than an
updated version of Marckwardt & Rosier. Fulk’s explanation of
the mechanics and development of Old English and its relation
to Proto-Germanic is exceptionally clear and hardly leaves any
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detail or exception unexplained, while the exercises and readings
in each chapter ensure a proper and thorough understanding
of the material at hand. A valuable addition to the Introductory
Grammar are its three appendices: a summary of sound changes
in the history and prehistory of English, an overview of nonSaxon dialects, lavishly illustrated with samples of texts, and a brief
introduction to Old English poetry. The Introductory Grammar is
further supplemented by a rich anthology of sixteen selections of
texts, including well-known pieces, such as the “Life of Caedmon”
and no fewer than thirty riddles from the Exeter Book (ten times as
many as Marckwardt & Rosier), as well as texts which rarely feature
in Old English readers, such as The Vision of Leofric. All these
texts are edited with diacritics, indicating palatalisation and vowel
length, explanatory notes and a glossary. Finally, a related website
offers a printable overview of paradigms and a bibliographical guide
to resources for further study.
Fulk’s Introductory Grammar is explicitly aimed at graduate
students and advanced undergraduates, and rightly so. With its
level of philological detail, this textbook requires a student with a
keen linguistic interest and is not likely to appeal to students who
are just starting out or those with a taste for the culture and history
of the Anglo-Saxons (which is treated in a little under two pages).
In fact, Fulk’s Introductory Grammar is probably best suited for an
advanced course in Old English that follows a course that uses a
more approachable textbook. As such, it would form the solution
to a notorious problem, also touched upon by Scheil (2007: 57–
58), that students who have completed an undergraduate course
in Old English are often still ill-equipped to handle a traditional
reference grammar, such as Campbell (1959), Hogg (1992) or Hogg
& Fulk (2011). Fulk’s Introductory Grammar certainly bridges this
gap between undergraduate courses and the use of these advanced
linguistic tools of the trade. In terms of Bede’s story of John of
Beverly, then, Fulk’s Introductory Grammar might be the curling
iron that the recovering youths need once their growth of hair
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has already been inspired by another, less linguistically ambitious,
textbook.
Thijs Porck
Leiden University
References
Baker, P. S. 2012 [2003]: Introduction to Old English. 3rd ed. Oxford,
Wiley-Blackwell.
Campbell, A. 1959: Old English Grammar. Oxford, Clarendon Press.
Hogg, R. M. 1992: A Grammar of Old English, Volume 1: Phonology.
Oxford, Blackwell.
Hogg, R. M. & R. D. Fulk 2011: A Grammar of Old English, Volume 2:
Morphology. Malden, Wiley-Blackwell.
Marckwardt, A. H. & J. L. Rosier 1972: Old English Language and
Literature. New York, W.W. Norton.
McGillivray, M. 2011: A Gentle Introduction to Old English. Peterborough,
Broadview Press.
Mitchell, B. & F. C. Robinson 2012 [1964]: A Guide to Old English. 8th
ed. Malden, Wiley-Blackwell.
Scheil, A. 2007: Old English Textbooks and the 21st Century: A Review
of Recent Publications. Old English Newsletter 40.3: 47–59.
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Calle-Martín, Javier & Miguel Ángel Castaño-Gil 2013. A
Late Middle English Remedy-book (MS Wellcome 542, ff. 1r–20v).
A Scholarly Edition (Late Middle English Texts 5.) Peter Lang AG,
Bern. pp. 183. ISBN: 3-0343-1369-⒈
LATE MIDDLE ENGLISH REMEDY-BOOK (MS WELLCOME
542, ff. 1r–20v) A Scholarly Edition. Late Middle English
Texts 5. Peter Lang AG, Bern is number 5 in the
collection Late Middle English Texts (LMET) series. This series
publishes scientific manuscripts and early prints covering a study
of their palaeographic and language features, as it is shown in this
number under study, which includes the transcription of a medieval
remedy-book (MS Wellcome 542, ff. 1r–20v). The present volume
is organised in four different chapters, namely “The Manuscript,”
“The Language,” “The Text” and “The Glossary.” The work has
been prefaced by medievalist and linguist Irma Taavitsainen.
The preface, “Recipes in Middle English Medical Literature,”
emphasises the importance of editing manuscripts and gives the
current state of the art of editing Middle English medical recipes,
clarifying the importance of non-literary texts and, at the same
time, explaining the meaning of recipes. Taavitsainen’s contribution
to the book is very significant. She herself has been the author
of several articles dealing with recipes both from a linguistic and
a cultural perspective (Taavitsainen, 2001; Taavitsainen & Pahta
2004, among others).
Recipes are defined as belonging to utilitarian literature as
they “give instructions on how to prepare medicines to cure an
illness, how to maintain health or prevent a harmful condition”
(p. 13). Taavitsainen also deals briefly with the different electronic
catalogues that exist concerning medical texts, emphasising the
usefulness of these resources. In her conclusion, she presents this
edition as one further step in linguistics and philological studies
since it is a contribution to the material available to scholars and
researchers.
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The first chapter (“The Manuscript”) provides an analysis of the
contents of the manuscript, listing other manuscripts with the same
contents, which are the prologue, charms and other medical formulae.
The authors also give information about the owners, presenting
a brief biography of each one, and the way the manuscript was
acquired, and the parallel manuscripts, which are a total of 21
copies. The writers explain why they use the term remedy-book to
refer to this manuscript and that is because it contains “a collection
of recipes including charms, but not a fully developed ‘treatise on
bloodletting or urines’ (Keiser 1988: 3365)” (p. 20). In the absence
of further considerations, I think the category works well for the
volume as it resembles other remedy books in the line of the ones
edited in Odgen (1938) and, more recently, Alonso-Almeida (2014).
The second part of this first chapter analyses the codicological
aspects, such as material, dimensions and ink, quiring and collation,
ruling, foliation, binding and fly-leaves. The manuscript has been
written in a quarto size vellum. The black ink is the most used,
although the red ink also appears frequently. The text is written in
119 folios, which “present a modern foliation at the top right-hand
corner of every folio recto” (p. 29). In this case, more information
about collation is badly needed here because the only reference to
the manuscripts that can be compared with MS Wellcome 542, ff.
1r–20v, seems to be the listing of 21 parallel manuscripts, but with
no further reference or any comparison among these evidences.
This collation would greatly benefit the edition but the authors, I
guess, may undertake this as future research prospects.
There is a paleographical analysis in which the authors offer
the different letterforms found in the manuscript. In this vein, the
writers, following Denholm-Young 1954, Hector 1966, and Petti
1977, establish that the letter used is a mixture between the 14th
century Anglicana and the 15th century Secretary and include a
description of the section titles, which are visually identifiable since
they are with a “bigger size written in red ink” (p. 32); numerals,
which are Roman figures; punctuation marks (punctus, punctus
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elevatus and the hyphen); and abbreviations used in the original
manuscript. The abbreviations used are contraction, suspension,
superior letters, and brevigraphs.
The second chapter, “The Language,” comprises the study
of the provenance of the manuscript and the description of the
inflections found in the different word classes that are used in
the manuscript. To determine the origin of the manuscript, the
authors have made a dialectal localisation of the manuscript using
the fit-technique, and they have concluded that its provenance is
in the county of Norfolk, in a neighbouring area with Cambridge.
After this, a morphological study is presented. The description of
the inflections used by the scribe and the number of occurrences
of each one are provided. In this sense, although the number of
instances per inflection is given, there is no reference to the precise
location of each case in the text, so the reader cannot find the
examples in the text unless he/she conducts an exhaustive analysis.
I wonder, however, whether this information is of real value but, if
so, a detail description would have been very welcome.
The third chapter, “The Text,” presents the editorial guidelines
followed by the authors, who have used a semi-diplomatic edition
adapting some guidelines from Petti (1977). The authors have
maintained the original spelling, with double 〈ff〉 transcribed as
〈F〉, and the capital letters at the beginning of each epigraph appear
in square brackets. Punctuation does not undergo any alteration
and abbreviations have been expanded with the supplied letter
in italics. Thus, insertions have been reproduced as 〈t/e/ye〉, and
marginalia have been included in the textual apparatus. Following
this, there is a digitised image of f. 3v of the manuscript and then
the transcription starts. In the transcription, the reader can find
the different recipes at a glance. The authors have provided editorial
line numbers.
The fourth chapter, “The Glossary,” offers a “selected glossary
of the Middle English terms found in MS Wellcome 542” (p.
123), without including Latinate terms. This glossary presents the
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entries followed by their word class. For this glossary, the e-MED
and the Oxford English Dictionary have been used. The allomorphs
and their occurrences have been included in this glossary. In this
case, it would have been valuable if the authors had included their
localisation in the text to take into account the study of different
variations in context. The inclusion of Latinate terms would be also
an appreciated aspect to be considered as the authors claim that
the glossary is an aid for a better understanding of the edited text.
At the end, the authors give the list of references. This list
represents a good deal of the literature written in the topic, and
the references are reasonably updated. There are, however, some
missing references in the literature, which should be added. Note,
for instance, that Carrillo-Linares’s (2006) and Garrido-Anes’s
(2004) works on medical texts have not been mentioned, not even
as part of the description of earlier literature.
All in all, this book can be considered as an outstanding
contribution to editorial work in the field of early scientific medical
manuscripts. These editions can be later used to implement
databases of earlier English texts. These compilations would be
useful not only for linguists for obvious reasons, but also for
students who want to start their professions as philologists. Its
internal organisation into the different chapters, even if too concise
(between 8–10 pages), makes the book very practical and easy to
read and use, emphasising the edition and the glossary as the main
and longest parts of the book.
Ivalla Ortega-Barrera
Universidad de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
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References
Alonso-Almeida, F. 2014: A Middle English Medical Remedy Book. Edited
from Glasgow University Library Hunter 185. (Middle English Text
Series 50.) Heidelberg, Carl Winter.
Carrillo-Linares, M. J. 2006: “De Humana Natura.” In M. T. Tavormina
(ed.) Sex, Aging and Death in a Medieval Medical Compendium:
Trinity College Cambridge R.14.52, its Texts, Language and Scribe.
Tempe, Center for Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies
292: 253–269.
Denholm-Young, N. 1954: Handwriting in England and Wales. Cardiff,
University of Wales Press.
Garrido-Anes, E. 2004: Transmisión, vernacularización y usos del Liber de
Simplici Medicina: las versiones del Circa Instans en inglés medio.
Medicina & historia. Revista de estudios históricos de las ciencias
médicas 2: 1–15.
Hector, L. C. 1966: The Handwriting of English Documents. London,
Edward Arnold.
Ogden, M. S. (ed.) 1938: The “Liber de diversis medicinis” in the Thornton
Manuscript (MS. Lincoln Cathedral A.5.2). (E.E.T.S. O.S. 207.)
London, Oxford University Press.
Petti, A. G. 1977: English Literary Hands from Chaucer to Dryden.
Cambrige (MA), Harvard University Press.
Taavitsainen, I. 2001: Middle English Recipes: Genre Characteristics,
Text Type Features and Underlying Traditions of Writing. Journal
of Historical Pragmatics 2.1:85–113.
Taavitsainen, I & P. Pahta (eds.) 2004: Medical Writing in Early Modern
English. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
•
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Moralejo Álvarez, José Luis 2013: Historia eclesiástica del pueblo
de los anglos. Beda el Venerable. Madrid, Akal. pp. 336. ISBN: 97884-460-3223-⒍ 24 €.
s Bertram Colgrave states in his introduction to
the canonical edition of Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica
Gentis Anglorum (henceforth, HE ), it “is probably one of
the most popular history books in any language and has certainly
retained its popularity longer than any rival” (1969: xvii). More
than thirty years after Colgrave wrote these words, a century after
Charles Plummer’s seminal edition and almost thirteen centuries
after Bede’s completion of the HE, José Luis Moralejo Álvarez
has translated this historiographical masterpiece into Spanish for
the first time. Providing such treasure for Spanish medievalists
is a laudable enterprise in itself. Beyond the inherent worthiness
of the project, Moralejo Álvarez’s skillfully executed translation
deserves our praise: its accuracy makes it a perfect companion for
the study of the original text and its naturally rendered Spanish
makes us forget that we are dealing with a translation. This edition
is supplemented by an introduction, explanatory footnotes and a
translation of Cuthbert’s Letter on the Death of Bede.
The introduction is divided into five sections providing relevant
information on Bede’s life and work, as well as on this particular
translation. The first one, “Beda el Venerable,” sketches a brief
biography with the few known details about the quiet life of
this scholar and monk. He devoted most of his time to his great
interests, namely “aprender, enseñar o escribir” [“learning, teaching
or writing”] (5), as he himself states in the last chapter of his
history. Thus, Moralejo Álvarez describes him as “un historiador
sin historia” [“a historian without history”] (6), like the Roman
Livy, as he led a life that was, in Colgrave’s words, “almost devoid
of incident” (1969: xxi). Moralejo Álvarez suggests that Bede, as a
typical “scholar-monk,” probably combined his intellectual work
with the manual labors that a monastery in construction like
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Wearmouth and Jarrow required. He completes the portrait with
an anecdote included in an anonymous Life of Ceolfrith and also
reported by Plummer and Colgrave. According to this text, after an
epidemic, only a little boy was left to sing the divine office together
with abbot Ceolfrith. At first they decided to sing it partially, but
soon they took up the whole office. Even though Bede does not
include this episode in his autobiography, Moralejo Álvarez follows
earlier scholars in identifying the boy with him and provides the
anecdote as evidence of his modesty. The section concludes with
a short summary of Cuthbert’s account of Bede’s death, the last
appendix to this book, and details about the fate of his mortal
remains.
After this short biography, Moralejo Álvarez proceeds to
classify and briefly analyze the author’s extensive and diverse
production: inspired by Plummer’s classification, he divides the list
of 30 works provided by Bede as well as nine more that can be
confidently attributed to him into four groups: didactic, historicalbiographical, theological-exegetical and poetic writings. Bede’s
didactic writings reveal his preoccupation with the education of his
pupils. Moralejo Álvarez distinguishes between textbooks dealing
with arts, exact and natural sciences and computistics. The HE is
the most important of his historical-biographical works, which also
include pious biographies of previous Anglo-Saxon monks. Most
of Bede’s production is devoted to theological-exegetical writings:
he wrote commentaries, books and even letters interpreting the
Holy Scriptures. His poetical works were written both in Latin and
Anglo-Saxon, although there is only one short poem written in
this last language extant. His large Latin production was religious
for the most part, and Moralejo Álvarez values it as just passable,
relying on Brunhölzl’s judgment: “no era un gran poeta; por lo
general sus versos tienen el sabor de la mesa del estudioso, y en
ellos se encuentra poco de poesía” [“he was not a great poet; in
general, his lines have the flavor of the scholar’s table, and little
poetry can be found in them”] (12).
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Once Bede’s books have been organized into these different
shelves, Moralejo Álvarez takes up the study of his most important
historiographical work. In order to cover all aspects of the HE, he
divides this section into the following six subsections. Moralejo
Álvarez examines the words of the title to analyze the time and
genre of this work (“La obra en su tiempo y en su género”).
Although HE is considered the first written history of the future
“England,” Moralejo Álvarez points out that Bede does not write
the history of a country, but the history of the Angli, the peoples
that settled in Britain in the fifth century. This gives him the
chance to make an interesting remark about how places usually
took their name from the nation that populated them and not the
other way round like nowadays. As for the genre, Moralejo Álvarez
follows Colgrave’s idea that the HE might have taken hints from
the Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History and Gregory of Tours’s History
of the Franks and states that it may be framed within the long
tradition of national histories by means of which “los nuevos reinos
surgidos de las invasiones bárbaras se fueron haciendo un lugar en
la gran crónica de Europa” [“the new kingdoms that had emerged
from the Barbarian Invasions made a place for themselves in the
grand chronicle of Europe”] (13) but also within the tradition of
ecclesiastical histories. Thus, the innovation of Bede’s project lies in
the combination of both historiographical traditions: he writes the
first ecclesiastical history devoted to a particular nation.
The second subsection (“La Historia eclesiástica como documento
histórico”) studies the HE as a historical document by considering,
on the one hand, Bede’s partiality and, on the other, his most
relevant contributions to the genre of historiography in Europe.
Given that Bede’s work is almost the only historical account of
seventh-century Britain that we have, our picture of that time is
necessarily a partial one. All the more so when his record of the
events had the aim of showing “that his people, the English, the
gens Anglorum, and above all his own particular branch of that
people, the Northumbrians, had been called by God to a special
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role in the history of salvation” (Thacker 2005: 462). Based on
Thacker’s considerations, Moralejo Álvarez defines Bede as an
activist historian: besides his evangelistic mission, he has a historical
mission in favor of his nation. Traditionally, the omission of two
important figures for Christianity in the British Isles, namely Saint
Patrick, evangelist of Ireland, and Saint Boniface, the apostle of
Germany, has been considered the most important fault.
Although Moralejo Álvarez borrows from Colgrave the idea that
Bede’s use of the Christian era represents a fundamental novelty for
the genre of historiography in Europe, he explains in further detail
the origin and the subsequent relevance of this chronology, which
Dionysius Exiguus developed in the 6th century. In addition, he
describes how the HE is not annalistic, but it is organized with
a flexible chronological system: although Bede’s account usually
follows the course of time, it is the relevance of events and not their
date that places them at the beginning of the books. At the end
of this section, Moralejo Álvarez provides a useful outline of each
book that reveals their organization and sums up their contents.
The third subsection, “Las fuentes de la Historia eclesiástica,”
is a survey of the works that documented Bede’s HE. Moralejo
Álvarez recommends Colgrave & Mynors’s chapter on “Bede’s
library” for further information regarding the author’s acquaintance
with his prologue’s sources—mostly writers from the beginning of
Late Antiquity. As for the documents used for the actual HE, he
mainly refers to the information that Bede provides in his preface
about his oral and written sources. Additionally, he takes a moment
to discuss the importance of miraculous elements in a work that
aimed to reveal a “providential system of causation” (Higham 2006:
98). Moralejo Álvarez notes that, for these events, Bede must have
relied on models of the genre such as hagiographical literary works,
in addition to the traditional stories and personal information that
he himself acknowledges.
Moralejo Álvarez’s detailed description of the HE ’s language
(“La lengua y el estilo”) centers on the idea that Latin was not
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only an ancient language, but also a foreign language for Bede.
The distance implied by these conditions prevents the influence of
macaronic Latin, making his language simple but pure. Despite
giving this grammarian and teacher credit for his remarkable
display of rhetorical training, Moralejo Álvarez adds a new category
to the four vulgarisms that, according to Michael Lapidge,
characterize Bede’s Latin as medieval, namely the periphrasis of
habeo with infinitive to indicate future time. He (23) also qualifies
André Crépin’s statement that “[l]e latin de Bède ne montre aucune
influence de la grammaire de l’anglais” [Bede’s Latin does not evince
any influence of English grammar] (2005: I, 29) by citing Lapidge’s
discussion of the construction of toponymys in the Old English
manner, that is with a preposition attached to the noun.
According to Moralejo Álvarez, his section on manuscripts is
mainly a summary of Mynors’s “Textual Introduction,” but it also
includes the opinions of more recent editors. Thus, he basically
divides the codices that Mynors mentions according to Plummer’s
distinction between Class c and Class m. Even though the last
subsection about the HE (“La tradición manuscrita”) surveys all
published editions from the editio princeps presumably printed by
Heinrich Eggestein in the 15th century to Lapidge’s 2008–2010
edition, it mainly focuses on the three main critical editions: the
first definite text, which was produced by Plummer at the end of
the 19th century together with a learned commentary, Colgrave
& Mynors’s canonical edition, which is the base text for this
translation, and Lapidge’s recent edition, the first one which takes
into account three different witnesses instead of two. Even though
Moralejo Álvarez praises Lapidge’s philological work, the recent
publication of his edition has limited its use for this translation.
The abundant scholarship about Bede’s life and works in general
and about the HE in particular makes it difficult for our translator
to contribute new knowledge. Plummer’s massive introduction to
his 19th century edition already includes an extensive section about
Bede’s biography and historical context, a classification and brief
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study of his diverse production, a reflection about his religion and
remarks about his style. Although with a different organization
and a laudatory overtone, Colgrave’s introduction touches on most
of the key aspects of the author’s life and work that Moralejo
Álvarez addresses: his biography, including the anecdote in the
Life of Ceolfrith, constitutes Colgrave’s section “Bede’s life,” and the
author’s sources are recorded in “Bede’s Library” and “The History:
its models and sources,” which also deals with the genre of the
work. Moralejo Álvarez’s discussion of the language borrows from
Colgrave in using the Hisperica Famina as an illustration of an
overelaborated style of insular Latin opposed to Bede’s simplicity.
However, he builds on Colgrave’s treatment of the style by
incorporating Mariner’s concept of avulgaramiento and Lapidge’s
medieval syntactic features. In short, Moralejo Álvarez’s brief but
thorough synthesis introduces Spanish readers to the important
contributions of these two major critical editions, as well as including
insights from more recent scholarship. Moreover, the detailed
notes that furnish the text provide readers with a bibliography to
deepen their knowledge of the most relevant aspects of Bede’s life
and work.
However, the introduction to this book also includes information
unprecedented in previous editions: “Apuntes sobre Beda en la
posteridad y sobre Beda en España” constitutes a ground-breaking
section that, consistent with the first translation into Spanish,
sheds light on Bede’s reception in medieval Europe and especially
in Spain. Moralejo Álvarez sums up the most relevant information
available in the abundant scholarship about the author’s posterity:
he deals with Bede’s early diffusion by virtue of two Anglo-Saxon
scholars, namely his contemporary Saint Boniface and Alcuin of
York and the consolidation of his fame in the time of Alfred the
Great. Bede would not be well-known in Spain until the Carolingian
Renaissance in the 10th century. After that, he is mentioned in the
Codex Calixtinus, as well as in Alfonso X’s General Estoria, but he
became more relevant after the Reformation, when Spanish scholars
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began to consider his work “testimonio de la ortodoxia primigenia
de Inglaterra” [“evidence of England’s original orthodoxy”] (31).
About his later posthumous fame, Moralejo Álvarez points out his
influence on notable Spanish authors, as well as his relevance for
English Romanticism and especially for the Oxford movement, for
whom his work was again considered a product of the pure original
Christianity.
Even if the introduction is certainly exhaustive, there are certain
points that are hardly considered. The section on Bede’s posterity
mentions Alfred the Great’s translation as an evidence of Bede’s
posthumous importance, but this early Old English version is only
briefly and superficially studied. To begin with, although traditionally
attributed to King Alfred’s late-ninth century translation program,
the Old English version of the Historia Ecclesiastica (henceforth,
OEHE ) was composed “anonymously some time at the end of the
ninth or beginning of the tenth century” (Rowley 2011: 2). Sharon
M. Rowley’s thorough study shows that “the OEHE produces and
is produced by the complex interplay of continuity and change at
work in early Britain” (2011: 56). Thus, the combined study of
both the original and the translation evidences differences in time,
culture, politics and demographics between Bede’s and Alfred’s
world. Additionally, Frank M. Stenton claims that “there are many
passages in which Bede’s indications of rank or office become
clearer through a rendering into ninth century English” (1971:
273). Either out of historical interest on the combined study of
the original and its translation, or because the Old English version
might shed light on particular aspects of the Latin version, a reader
of Bede would likely wish to read more about the early Old English
abridgement of his work; however, he or she cannot find this in
Moralejo Álvarez’s translation.
Furthermore, this introduction also leaves aside aspects that,
according to Paul Meyvaert (1971: 137), Colgrave also fails to
mention, such as:
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The chronological problems due to the use of a diversity of
sources […]; the problem of the reorganisation of Book I
due to the arrival at a late date—when the HE was almost
complete—of the Gregorian letters brought from Rome by
Nothelm […]; the problems connected with the manner in
which Bede treats and modifies his source (e.g. Gildas or
Eddius’ Life of Wilfrid).
These deficiencies are less significant in the introduction of a
translation than in the historical introduction of a major critical
edition. However, all three of these issues would surely have
been enlightening for the Spanish readers of Moralejo Álvarez’s
translation, especially since they usually have more difficult access
to the secondary sources that address them.
The last section of the introduction informs the readership
about the translation. Thus, we learn that it is based on Colgrave
& Mynors’s text, although it adopts elements of Lapidge’s recent
edition such as the convenient division of chapters into paragraphs
and the repetition of each thematic epigraph at the beginning of
every chapter, an idea that Lapidge takes from Plummer. These
decisions considerably simplify both citing and reference in the
index of names, and reading. Moralejo Álvarez announces that the
footnotes clarify passages of uncertain interpretation, as well as realia,
that is, culture-specific concepts, for the unfamiliarized modern
reader. But most of this section is devoted to the explanation of the
procedures followed to transcribe Anglo-Saxon and Celtic proper
names into Spanish. Even though this new and copious onomastic
wealth poses a challenge to the translator, who has not found a
way of applying a “un sistema de transcripción riguroso y del todo
coherente” [“a rigorous and completely coherent transcription
system”] (34), decisions like the adoption of a morphological
criterion of adaptation for the names with a tradition in Spanish
or a general graphic simplification produce versions of the names
that naturally fit the Spanish prose. Moralejo Álvarez’s editorial
decisions are successful in facilitating the reading of the text.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Even though the translation certainly offers the readers a smooth
Spanish prose, minor details like the recurrent use of the adverbial
phrase “en efecto” for the conjunction “nam” (II.13.1, 124 or IV.22.5,
233) retain some flavor of translation. There are also inconsistencies:
the noun “cultus” is translated as both “culto” (II.13.2, 124) and
“religión” (II.13.4, 125 and II.13.5, 125) within the same passage, and
“culto” and “devoción” (IV.22.1) are both used to translate “religio”
even within the same paragraph. However, these decisions may be
justified on the grounds that, despite the lack of consistency, the
chosen word, either cult, devotion or religion, better conveys the
sense of the sentence. What is more difficult to justify is “caballo
de postas” for “equum emissarium” (125). Du Cange’s Glossarium
Mediæ et Infimæ Latinitatis cites the following definitions for equus
emissarius: “equus fortis et velox, qui extra alios eligitur, et ad equas
mittitur ad coitum” [“strong and fast horse, chosen among the rest,
and sent to the mares for coitus”] (Ezechiel. 33. Joan. de Janua) and
“cheval estallon mit aux champs pour engendrer” [“stallion horse
placed in the country to beget”] from a Latin glossary at Saint Gall
(258). Consequently, even though the word “emissarius” certainly
means emissary, “equus emissarius” is not a relay horse, but rather
a stallion, as Colgrave & Mynors translate it. Given that the priest
wants to destroy the idols, a stallion, which is considered stronger
and faster than a castrated horse, fits much better the sense of the
sentence than a relay horse, especially as it is replacing the mare
that the priest is usually allowed to ride.
Despite minor details of this sort, the translation generally
renders Bede’s Latin closely and faithfully, while the footnotes
clarify uncertainties and enrich the text with historical references.
For example, in the episode of Edwin’s conversion (II.13), Moralejo
Álvarez cites Colgrave & Mynors to assert the importance of the
passage, Plummer to explain Edwin’s apostasy and Wallace-Hadrill
to look into the biblical antecedents of the bird image. But not
all his cultural remarks point to other works: Moralejo Álvarez
also draws an interesting parallel between Bede’s claim that Anglo305
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María del Mar Gutiérrez-Ortiz
Saxon priests could only ride mares and the custom in certain
Spanish dioceses that newly appointed bishops entered the church
to take over on a mule. As for the realia, he quotes Colgrave &
Mynors’s translation of “ducibus ac ministris” as “ealdormen and
thegns” (124, fn. 119) to help the readers understand concepts that
belong to the comitatus, a social structure locally and temporarily
foreign to them. The note on Goodmanham, a small village close
to Yorkshire, also clarifies a toponymy probably unknown to the
Spanish readership. Finally, he draws attention to an echo of Virgil’s
Aeneid. Thus, the famous account of Edwin’s conversion serves as an
illustration of the different types of useful footnotes that the reader
encounters in this translation.
In conclusion, despite the minor reservations mentioned,
Moralejo Álvarez’s work no doubt meets the readers’ expectations:
the faithful Spanish version is complemented by explicative
footnotes and a well-organized and informed introduction with
a body of citations to secondary sources. Furthermore, this work
represents the first attempt in our country to translate one of the
most important references of Anglo-Saxon history into Spanish.
Thus, the nature of the project and the quality of the result make
José Luis Moralejo Álvarez’s Historia eclesiástica del pueblo de los
anglos a priceless treasure for Spanish scholars of medieval literature.
María del Mar Gutiérrez-Ortiz
Cornell University
References
Brunhölzl, F. 1975: Geschichte der Lateinischen Literatur des Mittelalters I.
Munich, W. Fink.
Colgrave, B. & R. A. B. Mynors 1969: Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the
English People. Oxford, Clarendon Press.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Reviews
Crépin, A., M. Lapidge & P. Monat 2005: Histoire ecclésiastique du peuple
anglais. Paris, les Éditions du Cerf.
Du Fresne, C., Sieur du Cange 1840–1850: Glossarium mediae et infimae
latinitatis, 7 vols. Paris, Firmin Didot.
Higham, N. J. 2006: (Re-)Reading Bede. The Ecclesiastical History in
Context. London, Routledge.
Lapidge, M. ed. & P. Chiesa trans. 2008–2010: Beda, Storia degli Inglesi.
2 vols. Milano, Fondazione Lorenzo Valla - Arnoldo Mondadori.
Meyvaert, P. rev. 1971: Colgrave, B. & R. A. B. Mynors (1969) Bede’s
Ecclesiastical History of the English People. In Speculum 46.1: 135–137.
Plummer, C. 2002 [1896]: Venerabilis Baedae Historiam ecclesiasticam
gentis Anglorum: Historiam abbatum, Epistolam ad Ecgberctum,
una cum Historia abbatum auctore anonymo, ad fidem codicum
manuscriptorum denuo recognovit. Piscataway, Gorgias Press.
Rowley, S. 2011. The Old English Version of Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica.
Cambridge, D. S. Brewer.
Stenton, F. M. 1971: Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford history of England),
Oxford, Oxford University Press.
Thacker, A. 2005: England in the Seventh Century. In A. Fouracre ed.
The New Cambridge Medieval History, Volume 1 c.500–c.700.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press: 462–495.
Wallace-Hadrill, J. M. 1988. Bede’s Ecclesiastical history of the English people:
a historical commentary. Oxford, Oxford University Press.
•
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Sáez-Hidalgo, Ana & R. F. Yeager eds. 2014: John Gower in
England and Iberia: Manuscripts, Influences, Reception (Publications
of the John Gower Society 10). Cambridge, D. S. Brewer. pp. x +
335. ISBN: 978-1-84384-320-⒎ $99.00.
t one time, Gower had to wrestle in the minds of
modern critics with Chaucer (and to a lesser extent
Langland) for his status as an authoritative English poet.
This is no longer the case, largely as a result of the determined,
evangelical efforts of the John Gower Society. In addition to
multiple sessions over many years at the annual Medieval Congress
in Kalamazoo, Michigan, the society has now hosted three
international meetings of its own—Gower “think tanks,” actually—
that like the Kalamazoo sessions have generated a substantial
corpus of scholarship on the poet. Taking the form of both essay
collections and monographs, this criticism rivals and often exceeds
in intellectual energy and perspicacity the best that is currently
being written about the authors of the Canterbury Tales and Piers
the Plowman.
John Gower in England and Iberia: Manuscripts, Influences,
Reception, co-edited by R. F. Yeager, founder and president of the
Gower Society, and Ana Sáez-Hidalgo, a professor of medieval and
early modern English at the University of Valladolid, continues this
exemplary scholarly enterprise. The book gathers together the fruits
of the Second International Congress of the John Gower Society,
held in 2011 in Valladolid, Spain—nineteen essays that began as
conference presentations but that have been elaborated and revised
for publication here. Each one makes a deliberate and persuasive
contribution to our understanding of Gower and his works.
A brief review can only remark on a selection. The most original
and compelling material in the book, understandably enough,
concerns Gower’s under-examined connections with the Iberian
Peninsula. These were the result of migration of a copy of Confessio
Amantis to Portugal—probably by way of John of Gaunt’s daughter,
A
ISSN: 1132–631X
Michael P. Kuczynski, SELIM 20 (2013–2014): 309–313
Michael P. Kuczynski
Philippa, who between 1387 and 1415 was Portugal’s queen—and
subsequent translation of Gower’s English poem into Portuguese
and then Castilian Spanish. Yeager and Sáez-Hidalgo group much
of the scholarship in the book related to Portugal and Spain in
the volume’s second section, “Iberia,” but it also extends across
their other four subgroupings—on “Manuscripts,” “The Classical
Tradition,” “Economy,” and “Reception”—as a persistent (although
not exclusive) theme.
The Castilian translation of Confessio Amantis, preserved in a single
identified manuscript, has been known since the 1930s, when J. M.
Manly first brooded on its significance. The Portuguese translation
that provoked the Castilian one has likewise been identified in only
one copy, a manuscript rediscovered in the late 1990s. The two
lead off essays in Gower in England and Iberia give these copies
minute paleographic and codicological attention. Mauricio Herrero
Jiménez’s contribution, “Castilian Script in Iberian Manuscripts
of the Confessio Amantis,” compares systematically the different
types of professional Gothic book-hands used in copying Madrid,
Real Biblioteca MS II-3088, the Portuguese Livro do Amante, and
Madrid, El Escorial Library MS g-II-19, the Spanish Confysion del
Amante. Using ample illustration, Herrero Jiménez demonstrates
that neither manuscript is a presentation copy. Rather, each was
made for private reading, the manuscript of the Portuguese Livro
probably for a nobleman, “who perhaps was seeking in it a model
of ethical and political education and/or romantic diversion” (22)—
that is, just the sort of mistura of “lore” and “lust” that Gower
announces as the aesthetic recipe for his long English poem. In
addition to his careful scribal analysis, Herrero Jiménez also points
out an intriguing codicological detail of each of Gower’s Iberian
manuscripts: a Castilian table of contents added at the front of the
Portuguese codex and the conjoining in the more modest Spanish
one of sections from two different Confysion copies. Readership of
Iberian translations of the Confessio, he concludes, was likely more
widespread than the scant survival of two manuscripts indicates.
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Further archival investigation, one imagines, will extend our
knowledge of the international readership of Gower’s poem.
María Luisa López-Vidriero Abelló’s essay on “Provenance
Interlacing in Spanish Royal Book-Collecting” takes as its focus the
status of the Portuguese codex in particular, held in the Spanish Royal
Library. Predictably perhaps, López-Vidriero Abelló hypothesizes
that this library “played an important role in constructing the
image of the monarch” (35). More interestingly, she evaluates
the details of certain historical exhibitions and visitations of the
library to suggest how its contents and their variable arrangements
reflected “royal power, prestige, and accomplishment” (37)—all of
these of course themes taken up in the Confessio. Her analysis of
this point is a useful prolegomenon to López-Vidriero Abelló’s
discussion of the actual arrival of MS II-3088 in the Royal Library
from the personal collection of Count Gondomar, an ambassador
of Philip III of Spain to the court of James I of England, who
maintained a private library in Valladolid. Moreover, before this
transfer, the author shows, the manuscript was owned by Luis
de Castilla, son of a dean of Toledo Cathedral, whose humanist
leanings (like Gondomar’s interest in instruction for princes) link
for us by way of a clear archival trail Gower’s English work with
high Iberian culture.
Other Iberian-themed essays take up more speculative matters.
Two, for example, concern the Battle of Nájera, where John of
Gaunt and Edward the Black Prince allied in 1367 with Pedro
the Cruel of Castile (of Monk’s Tale fame) against his brother,
Enrique. David R. Carlson connects a letter sent by Edward from
the battlefield to his wife, Joan, with the propagandist tonalities
of a number of late medieval texts, among them Gower’s Cronica
Tripertita of 1400 in praise of the English usurper, Henry IV.
Fernando Galván investigates how the 1367 engagement established
a tighter nexus of connections between England, Castile, and
Portugal than we might suppose and that ultimately led to the
migration of the Confessio to Iberia. Contributions by R. F. Yeager
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Michael P. Kuczynski
and Tiago Viúla de Faria likewise probe the more shadowy but
nevertheless intriguing dimensions of Gower’s connections with
Portugal and Spain. Yeager suggests, for example, the possible
influence of Pedro Alfonso’s twelfth-century anthology of fables,
Disciplina Clericalis, a nearly ubiquitous text in medieval libraries,
on the Confessio’s “Tale of the Three Questions,” for which (unlike
most of Gower’s exempla) an exact source has yet to be identified.
Viúla de Faria, for his part, proposes in contrast with the prevailing
hypothesis of a royal avenue for the Confessio’s progress to Iberia
an ecclesiastical one—the bishop of Norwich, Henry Despenser,
whose “literary tastes may well have warranted a personal interest”
in the poem and whose “links with Philippa of Lancaster were both
strong and enduring” (136–137). None of the essays in Yeager and
Sáez-Hidalgo’s “Iberia” section has anything definitive to report
about Gower, his works, and that territory. Their hypotheses,
however, are energizing precisely because they are grounded in
nuanced analyses of historical and cultural circumstances that
involved English international interests and by way of these, quite
possibly, some of Gower’s writings.
There is much to be learned about non-Iberian Gower in this
volume as well. Noteworthy among the other essays collected here is
Barbara Shailor’s fascinating report, “The Yale Gower Manuscript,
Beinecke Osborn MS fa.1: Paleographical, Codicological,
Technological Challenges and Opportunities,” concerning what
“The objective testing of inks and pigments” (not to mention
mildew!) analyzed “scientifically across a corpus of manuscripts”
(85) can tell us about particular Gower codices, in this case the
vexed copy of the Confessio that is now Beinecke Osborn MS fa.1.
Two areas of Gower’s minor literary activity that usually escape
notice altogether or are denigrated in contrast with his major works
are scrutinized by Alastair J. Minnis and Siân Echard, respectively:
the Latin glosses to the Confessio and the poet’s shorter Latin verse.
Minnis’s “Inglorious Glosses?” and Echard’s “The Long and the
Short of It: On Gower’s Forms” both encourage us to view the poet’s
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literary sensibility as “knotty” (249), to use Echard’s metaphor—
more intricate, versatile, and self-reflective than critics usually
allow. Robert R. Edwards and Ethan Knapp likewise introduce us
to a complex Gower, but by adopting a wider and comprehensive
rather than narrow and selective perspective on his achievement—
comparing it, respectively, to the artistic ambition of Virgil’s epic
trajectory and to the historical grandeur of Balzac’s La Comédie
Humaine.
The poet who emerges from a reading of John Gower in England
and Iberia is I think a much more sophisticated and bracing figure
than even Gower aficionados have hitherto acknowledged: global
in his appeal, erudite in his textual practices, and (for someone so
preoccupied with the Seven Deadly Sins) refreshingly secular in
his aesthetic concerns. This Gower will never entirely replace the
poet valued by other, more traditional readers for his parochialism,
conventionality, and religion. He will, however, usefully complicate
that author’s portrait and will it is hoped inspire a new generation
of scholars to explore the works and influence of one of medieval
England’s internationally regarded literary geniuses.
Michael P. Kuczynski
Tulane University
•
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COMPREHENSIVE CONTENTS TO SELIM 1–20
Selim 1 (1991)
Shaw, Patricia (University of Oviedo): “Of Fish and Flesh and Tender Breede /
Of Win Both White and Reede”: eating and drinking in Middle English
narrative texts. Selim 1 (1991): 7–28.
Donoghue, Daniel (Harvard University): On the non-integrity of Beowulf. Selim
1 (1991): 29–44.
Dañobeitia, María Luisa (University of Granada): Two sides of a triangle: the
beginning of Gawain’s pentangle in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
Selim 1 (1991): 45–82.
Colahan, Clark (Whitman College): Morgain the Fay and the Lady of the Lake in
a broader mythological context. Selim 1 (1991): 83–105.
Santano Moreno, Bernardo (University of Extremadura): Some observations
on the dates and circumstances of the fifteenth-century Portuguese and
Castilian translations of John Gower’s Confessio Amantis. Selim 1 (1991):
106–122.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): The Virgin Mary and romance. Selim 1
(1991): 124–133.
García Martínez, Isabel (University of Oviedo): Destiny, fortune and predestination
in Troilus and Criseyde. Selim 1 (1991): 134–142.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): An interview with F. C. Robinson.
Selim 1 (1991): 143–147.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Rowland, Jenny, Early Welsh Saga
Poetry: a study and edition of the ‘Englynion’. Pp. x + 688. Cambridge: D.
S. Brewer, 1990. Selim 1 (1991): 150–153.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Medieval Literary Theory and
Criticism c.1100–c.1375: The Commentary Tradition, ed. by A. J. Minnis
and A. B. Scott, with the assistance of David Wallace. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1988. Selim 1 (1991): 154–157.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Bruce Mitchell, On Old English:
Selected Papers. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988. Selim 1 (1991): 158–161.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Comprehensive contents
Contreras, Eugenio (Complutense University): D. C. Calder & T. V. Christy
(eds.): Germania: Comparative Studies in the Old Germanic Languages and
Literatures. Wolfeboro: D.S. Brewer, 1988. Selim 1 (1991): 161–163.
García Teruel, Gabriela (University of Oviedo): P. Gómez Bedate: Boccaccio:
Decamerón. 2 vols. Selección de Lecturas Medievales, Siruela, Madrid,
1990. Selim 1 (1991): 164–166.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): Godden, Malcolm: The
Making of Piers Plowman. Longman: London & New York, 1990. Selim
1 (1991): 166–173.
Fernández-Corugedo, S.G. (University of Oviedo): Jones, Charles: A History of
English Phonology. Longman: London & New York, 1989. Selim 1 (1991):
173–178.
Selim 2 (1992)
Iglesias-Rábade, Luis (University of Santiago de Compostela): Beowulf: Some
examples of binary structures traditionally punctuated as paratactic
sequences. Selim 2 (1992): 6–30.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Prayer as a literary device in The
Battle of Maldon and in The Poem of the Cid. Selim 2 (1992): 31–46.
Cohen, Jeffrey J. (Harvard University): The use of monsters and the Middle Ages.
Selim 2 (1992): 47–69.
Galván Reula, Fernando (University of La Laguna): Rewriting Anglo-Saxon:
notes on the presence of Old English in contemporary literature. Selim 2
(1992): 70–90.
González Fernández de Sevilla, José Manuel (University of Alicante): Social
consciousness and literary dissent in Middle English poetry. Selim 2
(1992): 91–105.
León Sendra, Antonio (University of Córdoba) & Jesús Serrano Reyes (University
of Córdoba): Spanish references in The Canterbury Tales. Selim 2 (1992):
106–141.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Chaucer’s Criseyde and Erudyce.
Selim 2 (1992): 142–153.
Toda Iglesia, Fernando (University of Seville): From Sebell and The Grunye to
Seville and La Coruña: translating Barbour’s Bruce into Spanish. Selim 2
(1992): 154–168.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
316
Comprehensive contents
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): The Wanderer and The
Seafarer: a bibliography 1971–1991. Selim 2 (1992): 170–186.
Shaw, Patricia (University of Oviedo): Jill Mann: Geoffrey Chaucer. Atlantic
Highlands, N. J. Humanities Press International, Inc., 1991. Selim 2
(1992): 188–196.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Malcolm Godden & Michael
Lapidge, eds: The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1991. Selim 2 (1992): 196–202.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Lee Patterson: Chaucer and the
Subject of History. London, Routledge, 1991. Selim 2 (1992): 202–208.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): David Burnley: The History
of the English Language. A Source Book. London, Longman, 1992. Selim 2
(1992): 209–217.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): John Burrow & Thorlac
Turville-Petre: A Book of Middle English. Oxford, B. Blackwell, 1992.
Selim 2 (1992): 218–223.
Selim 3 (1993)
Lass, Roger (Capetown University): Interpreting vs. Disappearing: on texts as
historical objects. Selim 3 (1993): 7–25.
De la Cruz Fernández, Juan (University of Málaga): Old English noun declensions.
Selim 3 (1993): 26–42.
Mairal Usón, Ricardo (Autonomous University of Madrid) & Javier Martín Arista
(University of Saragossa): Underlying predications and Latin-Old English
translation: two predicates under scrutiny. Selim 3 (1993): 43–56.
Mora Sena, María José (University of Seville): The power of the keys: a parallel to
the line drawings in BL MS Stowe 994. Selim 3 (1993): 57–71.
Gonzalo Abascal, Pedro (University of Oviedo) & Antonio Bravo García
(University of Oviedo): Sapientia et Fortitudo in the Anglo-Saxon epic
heroes and in Ælfric’s English saints. Selim 3 (1993): 72–102.
Fernández Cuesta, Julia (University of Seville): A pragmatic approach to the Wife
of Bath’s Tale. Selim 3 (1993): 103–116.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): The wonder tale pattern of Sir
Orfeo. Selim 3 (1993): 117–148.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): A Britonnic etymology for luche ‘throw’
in Patience 230. Selim 3 (1993): 150–153.
317
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Jackson, Peter (University of Cambridge): The future of Old English: a personal
essay. Selim 3 (1993): 154–167.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Murdoch, Brian (1993): Cornish
Literature. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer. Selim 3 (1993): 170–172.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Clayton, Mary (1990): The Cult
of the Virgin Mary in Anglo-Saxon England. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press. Selim 3 (1993): 173–179.
Guzmán González, Trinidad (University of León): Hogg, Richard (General Ed.):
The Cambridge History of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press. Volume I: The Beginnings to 1066. Edited by Richard M.
Hogg (1992). Selim 3 (1993): 180–188.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): De la Cruz, Juan & Ángel
Cañete (1992): Historia del inglés. (Fundamentación e historímetro). Málaga:
Ediciones Edinford. Selim 3 (1993): 189–197.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1992–1993. Selim 3 (1993): 198–210.
Selim 4 (1994)
Jacobs, Nicholas (University of Oxford): Conflictus Ovis et Lini. A model for The
Owl and the Nightingale. Selim 4 (1994): 7–19.
Serrano Reyes, Jesús (University of Córdoba): The Host’s idiolect. Selim 4 (1994):
20–47.
López Couso, María José (University of Santiago de Compostela) & Isabel
Moskowich-Spiegel (University of Corunna): Some editions of The Bruce.
A comparative account. Selim 4 (1994): 48–58.
Martín Arista, Javier (University of La Rioja): Analogy in functional syntax. Selim
4 (1994): 59–73.
Hornero Corisco, Ana María (University of Saragossa): An analysis of the object
position in Ancrene Wisse and the Katherine Group. Selim 4 (1994): 74–93.
Montes Mozo, Catalina (University of Salamanca) & María Pilar Fernández
Álvarez (University of Salamanca): Preverbation in the Old Germanic
languages: a research project. Selim 4 (1994): 94–117.
Campos Vilanova, Xavier (University Jaume I): Ælfric refers to Bishop Possidis
(with the source). Selim 4 (1994): 121–123.
Rodrigues, Louis (Cambridge): Further observations concerning the translation
of Anglo-Saxon verse. Selim 4 (1994): 124–132.
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Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo) & Bruce Mitchell (University of
Oxford): On Old English studies today. Selim 4 (1994): 133–139.
Shaw, Patricia (University of Oviedo): Carol M. Meale ed. 1993: Women and
Literature in Britain, 1150–1500. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
Selim 4 (1994): 143–152.
Campos Vilanova, Xavier (University Jaume I): Janet Bately 1993: Anonymous Old
English Homilies. A Preliminary Bibliography of Source Studies. Binghamton,
Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, State University of
New York (SUNY). Selim 4 (1994): 153–155.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Fred C. Robinson 1993: The Tomb
of Beowulf and Other Essays on Old English. Oxford, B. Blackwell. Selim 4
(1994): 156–163.
Bullón, María (Cornell University): Bernardo Santano Moreno 1990: Estudio
sobre Confessio Amantis de John Gower y su versión castellana Confisyon
del amante de Juan de Cuenca. Cáceres, Ediciones de la Universidad de
Extremadura. Selim 4 (1994): 164–167.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): Roger Lass 1994: Old English.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Selim 4 (1994): 168–178.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1992–1994. Selim 4 (1994): 179–187.
Selim 5 (1995)
Tejera Llano, Dionisia (University of Deusto): The matter of Israel: the use of
little children in the miracles of the Holy Virgin during the Middle Ages.
Selim 5 (1995): 7–17.
Lázaro Lafuente, Luis Alberto (University of Alcalá): Some speculations about
Chaucer’s Spanish Literary sources. Selim 5 (1995): 18–28.
Serrano Reyes, Jesús (University of Córdoba): Spanish Modesty in The Canterbury
Tales: Chaucer and Don Juan Manuel. Selim 5 (1995): 29–45.
Gonzalo Abascal, Pedro (University of Oviedo) & Antonio Bravo García
(University of Oviedo): Early Christian funeral ceremonies and Germanic
funeral rites. Selim 5 (1995): 46–62.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): The spaces of Medieval
intertextuality: Deor as a Palimpsest. Selim 5 (1995): 63–77.
Runda, Todd (University of Seville): Beowulf as king in light of the Gnomic
passages. Selim 5 (1995): 78–90.
319
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Pérez Guerra, Javier (University of Vigo): Syntax and information hand in
hand? On extraposition and inversion from Late Middle English to
Contemporary English. Selim 5 (1995): 91–106.
Biggam, Carole: (University of Glasgow): Old English þeru and Modern English
tharf-cakes. Selim 5 (1995): 109–115.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Sir Gawain’s journey and Holywell,
Wales. Selim 5 (1995): 116–118.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): A celtic etymology for Old English
claedur, ‘clapper’. Selim 5 (1995): 119–121.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Old English hreol, ‘reel’: Welsh rheol,
‘rule’. Selim 5 (1995): 122–126.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Richard Rolle’s tagild, ‘entangled’: Welsh
tagu, ‘choke’, tagell, ‘snare’. Selim 5 (1995): 127–131.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Middle English sness, ‘cluster’: Middle
Irish popp, ‘shoot, tendril’. Selim 5 (1995): 132–136.
Farrell, Mary (University Jaume I): Ann Hagen 1994: A Handbook of Anglo-Saxon
Food, Processing and Consumption. Oxford, Anglo-Saxon Books. Selim 5
(1995): 139–141.
Méndez Naya, Belén (University of Santiago de Compostela): Bruce Mitchell 1995:
An Invitation to Old English and Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford, Blackwell.
Selim 5 (1995): 142–146.
Martín Miguel, Francisco (University of Oviedo): April McMahon 1994:
Understanding Language Change. Cambridge, Cambridge University
Press. Selim 5 (1995): 147–155.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Oviedo): Catalina Montes, María Pilar
Fernández & Gudelia Rodríguez 1995: El Inglés Antiguo en el marco
de las lenguas germánicas occidentales, Madrid, Consejo Superior de
Investigaciones Científicas. Selim 5 (1995): 156–159.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): Anthony Fox 1995: Linguistic
Reconstruction. An Introduction to Theory and Method. Oxford, Oxford
University Press. Selim 5 (1995): 160–165.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
Bibliography 1993–1995. Selim 5 (1995): 166–177.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Selim 6 (1996)
Aguirre Dabán, Manuel (Autonomous University Madrid): “Beot”, Hybris, and
the Will in Beowulf. Selim 6 (1996): 5–31.
Martín Arista, Javier (University of La Rioja): External control in functional
syntax: formulating LME constituent order rules. Selim 6 (1996): 32–50.
Díaz Vera, Javier (University of Castilla-La Mancha): On the linguistic status of
Medieval copies and translations of Old English documentary texts. Selim
6 (1996): 51–63.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): Stereotyped comparisons in the
language of Geoffrey Chaucer. Selim 6 (1996): 64–84.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (University of Alcalá): The classical and modern
concept of auctoritas in Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. Selim 6
(1996): 85–102.
Buckett-Rivera, Alison (University of Corunna): Motherhood in The Wife of
Bath. Selim 6 (1996): 103–116.
Serrano Reyes, Jesús (University of Córdoba): John of Gaunt’s intervention in
Spain: possible repercussions for Chaucer’s life and poetry. Selim 6 (1996):
117–145.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Did Sir Thomas Philipps (fl. 1489–1520)
write I love a flower? Selim 6 (1996): 149–152.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre Michael Swanton 1997: The Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle, translated and edited by Michael Swanton. Dent: London.
Selim 6 (1996): 155–156.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Peter S. Baker ed. 1995: Beowulf:
Basic Readings. Norfolk & London: Garland Publishing. Selim 6 (1996):
157–166.
Rodríguez Álvarez, Alicia (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): Stephen
Pollington 1997: First Steps in Old English. Norfolk: Anglo-Saxon Books.
Selim 6 (1996): 167–171.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): Juan de la Cruz, Ángel Cañete &
Antonio Miranda 1995: Introducción Histórica a la Lengua Inglesa. Málaga:
Ágora. Selim 6 (1996): 172–177.
Pérez Rodríguez, Eva M. (University of Oviedo): E. J. Morrall ed. 1996:
Piccolomini, Aeneas Silvius (Pius II): The Goodli History of the Ladye Lucres.
Oxford: EETS - Oxford University Press. Selim 6 (1996): 178–184.
321
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Tejada Caller, Paloma (Complutense University): N. F. Blake 1996: A History of
the English Language. Houndmills: MacMillan. Selim 6 (1996): 185–188.
Valenzuela, Setmaní (University of Seville): Robert E. Bjork & John D. Niles
eds. 1997: A Beowulf Handbook. Exeter: University of Exeter Press. Selim
6 (1996): 189–193.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1995–1997. Selim 6 (1996): 194–206.
Selim 7 (1997)
Gray, Douglas (University of Oxford): Fayttes of armes and of chyvalrye. Selim 7
(1997): 5–31.
Ribes Traver, Purificación (University of Valencia): Guenevere speaks: from
Malory to Mnookin. Selim 7 (1997): 33–49.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Oviedo): New trends, old paths or
viceversa: Wulf & Eadwacer. Selim 7 (1997): 51–81.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): & Antonio Miranda García (University
of Málaga): On the quantity of ⟨i⟩ in Old English words ending in -lic and
-lice. Selim 7 (1997): 83–96.
Campos Vilanova, Xavier (University Jaume I): The Latin sources of one of
Ælfric’s Old English Homilies on Saint Stephen. Selim 7 (1997): 97–124.
León Sendra, Antonio R. (University of Córdoba): Discourse and community in
the late 14th century. Selim 7 (1997): 125–151.
Sánchez Martí, Jordi (Cornell University): Chaucer’s Knight and the Hundred
Years War. Selim 7 (1997): 153–160.
Sola Buil, Ricardo J. (University of Alcalá): Dramatic perspective in Chaucer’s The
Canterbury Tales and Troilus and Criseyde. Selim 7 (1997): 161–180.
Álvarez-Faedo, María José (University of Oviedo): The role of the church in the
incipient medieval drama: from street theatre to morality plays. Selim 7
(1997): 181–191.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): O’Keeffe O’Brien Katherine ed.
1997: Reading Old English Texts. Selim 7 (1997): 195–206.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Oviedo): Bravo, Antonio 1998: Fe y
literature en el período anglosajón, ss.VII-XI (la plegaria como texto literario).
& Bravo, Antonio 1998: Los lays heroicos y los cantos épicos cortos en el inglés
antiguo. Selim 7 (1997): 207–213.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Crespo García, Begoña (University of Corunna): Wright, Laura 1996: Sources of
London English. Medieval Thames Vocabulary. Selim 7 (1997): 214–217.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (University of Alcalá) & Ricardo J. Sola Buil
(University of Alcalá): Carol Poster and Richard Utz, eds. 1996: Disputatio.
An International Transdisciplinary Journal of the Late Middle Ages. Vol. I.
The Late Medieval Epistle. Selim 7 (1997): 218–226.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): Lass, Roger 1997. Historical
linguistics and language change. Selim 7 (1997): 227–237.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1997–1998. Selim 7 (1997): 238–247.
Selim 8 (1998)
Blake, Norman Francis (University of Sheffield): The literary development of the
Reynard story in England. Selim 8 (1998): 9–34.
Galván Reula, Fernando (University of Alcalá): Malory revisited: from Caxton to
Steinbeck. Selim 8 (1998): 35–75.
Sola Buil, Ricardo J. (University of Alcalá): Landscape and description of the
natural world in Chaucer. Selim 8 (1998): 77–90.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Spanish words in Medieval
English lexicon: sources and problems. Selim 8 (1998): 91–100.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Griselda’s sisters: wifely patience
and sisterly rivalry in English tales and ballads. Selim 8 (1998): 101–116.
Olivares Merino, Eugenio (University of Jaén): I be not now he that ye of speken:
Middle English romances and the conventions of fin’amors. Selim 8
(1998): 117–146.
De la Cruz Cabanillas, Isabel (University of Alcalá): Studies in the language of
some manuscripts of Rolle’s Ego Dormio. Selim 8 (1998): 147–156.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Vigo): Psychology, space/time and
ecology in The Wife’s Lament. Selim 8 (1998): 157–170.
Alonso Almeida, F. (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): ‘As it ys seyde
to fore’. Some linguistic evidence in the process of compiling Middle
English medical recipes. Selim 8 (1998): 171–191.
Serrano Reyes, Jesus (University of Córdoba): The Chaucers in Spain: from the
wedding to the funeral. Selim 8 (1998): 193–203.
323
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Salvador Bello, Mercedes (University of Seville): The arrival of the hero in a ship:
a common Leitmotif in OE regnal tables and the story of Scyld Scefing in
Beowulf. Selim 8 (1998): 205–221.
Fernández Guerra, Ana (University Jaume I): Middle English origins of presentday distinction in the pronunciation of word-final or pre-consonantal
sequences -or, -oar, -oor, -our. Selim 8 (1998): 223–238.
Ruiz Moneva, María Angeles (University of Saragossa): Compound nouns in the
Old English period: Ælfric’s Lives of Saints. Functional and pragmatic
approaches. Selim 8 (1998): 239–258.
Selim 9 (1999)
Rodríguez Álvarez, Alicia (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria):
Segmentation of fifteenth-century legal texts: a reconsideration of
punctuation. Selim 9 (1999): 11–20.
Núñez Pertejo, Paloma (University of Santiago de Compostela): The progressive
from Old English to Early Modern English. Selim 9 (1999): 21–34.
Gómez Calderón, María José (University of Seville): Harold of England: the
Romantic revision of the last Anglo-Saxon King. Selim 9 (1999): 35–43.
Romano Mozo, Manuela (Madrid Autonomous University): Anger in Old English.
Selim 9 (1999): 45–56.
Salvador Bello, Mercedes (University of Seville): The nightingale as Æfensceop in
Exeter Riddle 8. Selim 9 (1999): 57–68.
Fernández García, Alfonso (University of Oviedo) & García Teruel, Gabriela
(University of Vigo-Ourense): Britain’s time: Malory’s Morte d’Arthur
Book VII. Selim 9 (1999): 69–78.
Fraga Fuentes, María Amelia (University of Santiago de Compostela): On the
use of the Old Man figure in a Medieval and a Renaissance text. Selim 9
(1999): 79–90.
Mancho Barés, Guzmán (University of Alcalá): Structural elements of Christ’s exile
and return figurae in Ormulum’s Latin Text XIV. Selim 9 (1999): 91–99.
Olivares Merino, Eugenio (University of Jaén): Gauvain and Gawain: the two sides
of the hero. Selim 9 (1999): 101–109.
Sola Buil, Ricardo J. (University of Alcalá): The Canterbury Tales and its dramatic
background. Selim 9 (1999): 111–122.
León Sendra, Antonio R. (University of Córdoba) & Serrano Reyes, Jesús L.
(University of Córdoba): Chaucer and Montserrat. Selim 9 (1999): 123–143.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (University of Alcalá): The precepts of classical
rhetoric in the letters of Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troylus & Criseyde. Selim 9
(1999): 143–154.
Fidalgo Monge, Susana (University of León): The Sea in Beowulf, The Wanderer
and The Seafarer: on semantic fields and Mediterranean limitations. Selim
9 (1999): 155–162.
Gutiérrez Barco, Maximino (University of Alcalá): The boar in Beowulf and Elene:
a Germanic symbol of protection. Selim 9 (1999): 163–171.
Insa Sales, Salvador (University Jaume I): The treatment of some Spanish matters
in the Old English Orosius. Selim 9 (1999): 173–179.
Salvador-Rabaza Ramos, Asunción (University of València): A proposal of
performance for the York Mystery Cycle: external and internal evidence.
Selim 9 (1999): 181–190.
Tejera Llano, Dionisia (University of Deusto): Medieval Drama: the social use of
religion. Selim 9 (1999): 191–196.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Dame Ragnell’s culture: the
voracious loathly lady. Selim 9 (1999): 197–204.
Alonso Almeida, Francisco (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): Smith,
Jeremy J. 1999: Essentials of Early English. Selim 9 (1999): 207–210.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): Fernández, F. 1998: Middle English
Texts: Translation and Philological Commentary. Selim 9 (1999): 211–215.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): MacTiernan, John 1999: El
guerrero número 13. Buenavista Home Video. Selim 9 (1999): 216–219.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): Bernárdez, Enrique 1999: ¿Qué
son las lenguas? Selim 9: 220–225.
Menéndez Otero, Carlos (University of Oviedo): Heath, I & A. McBride 1996:
Los Vikingos. Selim 9 (1999): 226–229.
Selim 10 (2000)
Drout, Michael (Wheaton College): Anglo-Saxon wills and the inheritance of
tradition in the English Benedictine reform. Selim 10 (2000): 5–54.
Martín Díaz, María Auxiliadora (University of La Laguna): Old English in Middle
Kentish place-names. Selim 10 (2000): 55–76.
Sánchez-Roura, Teresa (University of Santiago de Compostela): Convention vs.
choice in securing the good-will of the reader: the Cely letters. Selim 10
(2000): 77–100.
325
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Moralejo, Teresa (University of Murcia): The semantics of Middle English
composite predicates. Selim 10 (2000): 101–124.
Rouse, Robert (University of Bristol): Expectation vs. experience: encountering
the Saracen other in Middle English romance. Selim 10 (2000): 125–140.
Murtaugh, Daniel (Florida Atlantic University): The education of Theseus in the
Knight’s tale. Selim 10 (2000): 141–168.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Charles R. Dodwell 2000:
Anglo-Saxon Gestures and the Roman Stage. Selim 10 (2000): 169–175.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): María Bullón-Fernández
2000: Fathers and Daughters in Gower’s Confessio Amantis. Selim 10
(2000): 177–183.
González Campo, Mariano (University of Murcia): María Pilar Fernández Álvarez
1999: Antiguo islandés. Historia y lengua. Selim 10 (2000): 185–192.
Valenzuela, Setmaní (University of Seville): Roy M. Liuzza 2000: Beowulf: A New
Verse Translation. Selim 10 (2000): 193–200.
Selim 11 (2001–2002)
Revard, Carter (Washington University, St. Louis): Was the Pearl Poet in
Aquitaine with Chaucer? A note on Fade, I.149 of Sir Gawain and the
Green Knight. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 5–26.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Chaucerian distortions
in The Assembly of Ladies. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 27–49.
Arbesú, David (University of Massachusetts, Amherst): Geoffrey Chaucer’s
Parlement of Foules: A new stemma of the Hammond manuscripts. Selim
11 (2001–2002): 51–96.
Rodríguez Redondo, Ana Laura (Complutense University) & Eugenio Contreras
Domingo (Complutense University): Ongitan: A case study of evidentiality
in Old English perception verbs. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 97–115.
Guarddon Anelo, Carmen (UNED): The locative uses of the preposition at in the
Old English version of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People: a
cognitive approach. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 117–145.
Carrera de la Red, Anunciación (University of Valladolid) & María José Carrera
de la Red (University of Valladolid): Philip Perry’s manuscript Sketch of
British History (c.1770): editing a Vallisoletan historical record of Early
Britain. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 147–165.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Four Middle English notes: calf ‘shank’,
silk ‘prey’, Clanvowe’s cuckoo and William Worcestre’s ‘donyton’. Selim 11
(2001–2002): 169–176.
Martín Díaz, María Auxiliadora (University of La Laguna): Fernando Galván
2001: Literatura Inglesa Medieval. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 179–181.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): American Notes and Queries 15/2 (Spring
2002). Selim 11 (2001–2002): 182–183.
Klinck, Anne L. (University of New Brunswick): Clare A. Lees & Gillian R.
Overing 2001: Double Agents: Women and Clerical Culture in Anglo-Saxon
England. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 184–187.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Jorge Luis Bueno Alonso
2001: El discurso poético elegíaco del Inglés Antiguo. Selim 11 (2001–2002):
188–193.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Marie-José
Lemarchand ed & trad. 2000: Cristina de Pizán: La Ciudad de Las
Damas. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 194–199.
Martínez Magaz, Judit (University of León): Richard Hogg 2002: An Introduction
to Old English. 200–202.
Gómez Calderón, María José (University of Seville): Clare A. Simmons 2001:
Medievalism and the Quest for the “Real” Middle Ages. Selim 11 (2001–
2002): 203–209.
Selim’s Editors (University of Oviedo): Medieval English Studies in Spain (1997–
2001): Ph.D. Theses and Research Projects. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 210–
222.
Selim 12 (2003–2004)
Bernárdez, Enrique (Complutense University): Toward a common history of the
Germanic and European languages in the Middle Ages. Selim 12 (2003–
2004): 5–31.
González Orta, Marta (UNED): The Old English verbs of smell perception
and emission: analysis of the interface of their semantic and syntactic
representation. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 33–48.
Orchard, Andy (University of Toronto): Reading Beowulf now and then. Selim 12
(2003–2004): 49–81.
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Zacher, Samantha (Vassar College): The rewards of poetry: ‘homiletic’ verse in
Cambridge Corpus Christi College MS 201. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 83–
108.
Morini, Carla (University of Calabria): The first English love romance without
‘love’: The Old English Apollonius of Tyre. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 109–
125.
Rutkowska, Hanna (Adam Mickiewicz University): Selected orthographic features
in English editions of the Book of Good Maners (1487–1507). Selim 12
(2003–2004): 127–142.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Sturdy stories: Medieval narrative
into popular ballad. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 143–159.
Sinisi, Lucía (University of Bari): Urbanization and pollution in an Irish (?) town
in the 14th Century. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 160–178.
Sánchez-Martí, Jordi (University of Alicante): The Sowdoun of Babyloyne: a
description of the manuscript. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 181–189.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (San Antonio Catholic University): Marcos, Manuel
Antonio ed. & trad. 2003: Dictis Cretensis: Ephemeris Belli Troiani. Selim
12 (2003–2004): 191–194.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia) González Campo, Mariano
ed. & trad. 2003: Saga de Hervör y saga de Bósi. Selim 12 (2003–2004):
195–199.
Crespo García, Begoña (University of Corunna): Vera, Javier Díaz ed. 2002: A
Changing World of Words. Studies in English Historical Lexicography,
Lexicology and Semantics. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 200–208.
Gómez Calderón, María José (University of Seville): Driver, Martha W. & Sidney
Ray eds. 2004: The medieval hero on screen: representations from Beowulf to
Buffy. Jefferson McFarland. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 209–214.
Selim’s Editors (University of Oviedo): Medieval English Studies in Spain (2002–
2004): Ph.D. theses and research projects. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 215–225.
Selim 13 (2005–2006)
Alcaraz-Sintes, Alejandro (University of Jaén): Old English ditransitive adjectives.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 9–49.
Marqués Aguado, Teresa (University of Málaga): Old English punctuation
revisited: the case of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Selim 13
(2005–2006): 51–72.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Rambaran-Olm, M. R. (University of Glasgow): Is the title of the Old English
poem The Descent into Hell suitable? Selim 13 (2005–2006): 73–85.
Murillo López, Ignacio (University of Salamanca): Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a
different style for a different story. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 87–98.
Álvarez López, Francisco Javier (Universities of Manchester & Vigo): The AngloSaxon Chronicle 755: an annotated bibliography of the Cynewulf and
Cyneheard episode from Plummer to Bremmer. Selim 13 (2005–2006):
99–117.
Gotti, Maurizio (University of Bergamo): The Middle English chapter on the
‘modal story’. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 119–150.
Carrillo Linares, María José (University of Huelva): Lexical dialectal items in
Cursor Mundi: contexts of occurrence and geographical distribution.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 151–178.
Crespo, Begoña (University of Corunna) & Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel (University
of Corunna): Medicine, astronomy, affixes and others: an account of verb
formation in some early scientific works. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 179–197.
Garrido Anes, Edurne (University of Huelva): Manuscript relations through form
and content in the Middle English Circa Instans. Selim 13 (2005–2006):
199–224.
Fernández Rodríguez, Carmen María (University of Corunna): New contexts for
the classics: wanderers and revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin and
the Clerk. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 225–247
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): The Lollard Disestablishment Bill and
Rocester, Staffordshire. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 251–253.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Bune ‘maiden, beloved’ in Ancrene Wisse.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 255–257.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Deale ‘take note’ in Ancrene Wisse. Selim
13 (2005–2006): 259–260.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Nurd ‘uproar’ in the AB Language. Selim
13 (2005–2006): 261–264.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Rung ‘arise’ in Ancrene Wisse. Selim 13
(2005–2006): 265–266.
Cubas Peña, Rebeca (University of La Laguna): Suzanne C. Hagedorn 2004:
Abandoned Women: Rewriting the Classics in Dante, Boccaccio and Chaucer.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 269–274.
González Campo, Mariano (University of Murcia): Höskuldur Thráinsson,
Hjalmar: Petersen, Jógvan í Lon Jacobsen & Zakaris Svabo Hansen (eds.)
329
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Comprehensive contents
2004: Faroese. An Overview and Reference Grammar. Selim 13 (2005–
2006): 275–280.
Martínez Magaz, Judit (University of León): Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño &
Begoña Crespo García 2004: New Trends in English Historical Linguistics:
An Atlantic View. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 281–283.
Moskowich-Spiegel, Isabel (University of Corunna): Cristina Mourón Figueroa
2005: El ciclo de York. Sociedad y cultura en la Inglaterra bajomedieval.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 285–290.
Selim 14 (2007)
Ogura, Michiko (Chiba University): The Paris Psalter and the Metres of Boethius:
are they formulaic as Anglo-Saxon verses? Selim 14 (2007): 7–36.
Cabanillas, Isabel de la Cruz (University of Alcalá): Semantic primes in Old
English: a preliminary study of descriptors. Selim 14 (2007): 37–58.
Molina, Clara (Autonomous University Madrid) & Manuela Romano (Autonomous
University Madrid): Old texts in new vessels: teaching and learning HEL
online. Selim 14 (2007): 59–85.
Esteban Segura, Laura (University of Málaga) & Nadia Obegi Gallardo (University
of Málaga): Absolute constructions in the Old English Gospels: a casestudy. Selim 14 (2007): 87–105.
Johannesson, Nils-Lennart (Stockholm University): Icc hafe don swa summ þu
badd: an anatomy of the Preface to the Ormulum. Selim 14 (2007): 107–
140.
Hebda, Anna (Adam Mickiewicz University): On the excrescent Middle English:
Selim 14 (2007): 141–161.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Both human and
divine: the conflict between confession and gossip in The Book of Margery
Kempe. Selim 14 (2007): 163–195.
Pérez Fernández, Tamara (University of Valladolid): & Ana Sáez Hidalgo
(University of Valladolid): ‘A man textueel’: scribal readings and
interpretations of Troilus and Criseyde through the glosses in manuscript
British Library Harley 2392. Selim 14 (2007): 197–220.
Williamson, Keith (University of Edinburgh): A Latin–Older Scots glossary in
Edinburgh University Library MS 205. Selim 14 (2007): 221–276.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Herebarde in Ancrene Riwle. Selim 14
(2007): 279–283.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
330
Comprehensive contents
Shippey, Tom (Saint Louis University): Álvarez-Faedo, María José (ed.) 2007:
Avalon Revisited: Reworkings of the Arthurian Myth. Selim 14 (2007): 287–
290.
Martínez Magaz, Judit (University of León): North, Richard & Allard, Joe (eds.)
2007: Beowulf and Other Stories. A New Introduction to Old English, Old
Icelandic and Anglo-Norman Literatures. Selim 14 (2007): 291–293.
Pysz, Agnieszka (Adam Mickiewicz University): Suárez-Gómez, Cristina 2006:
Relativization in Early English (950–1250): the Position of Relative Clauses.
Selim 14 (2007): 295–299.
Selim 15 (2008)
Carroll, Ruth (University of Turku): Historical English phraseology and the
extender tag. Selim 15 (2008): 7–37.
Maíz Arévalo, Carmen (Complutense University): ‘What sholde I make a lenger
tale of this?’: Linguistic and stylistic analysis of rhetorical questions in the
Canterbury Tales. Selim 15 (2008): 39–60.
Scammell, Jennifer F. (University of Glasgow): Domesticating the Virgin: ‘Holy
labore’ and the late medieval household. Selim 15 (2008): 61–90.
Cole, Marcelle (University of Seville): What is the Northern Subject Rule? The
resilience of a medieval constraint in Tyneside English. Selim 15 (2008):
91–114.
Sayers, William (Cornell University): King Alfred’s timbers. Selim 15 (2008):
117–124.
Ruano-García, Javier (University of Salamanca): On the origins of sike ‘such’: a
revision in the light of LAEME and LALME. Selim 15 (2008): 125–136.
Esteban Segura, Laura (University of Murcia): An interview with Sally Mapstone.
Selim 15 (2008): 139–149.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Smith, Jeremy 2007: Sound
Change and the History of English. Selim 15 (2008): 151–156.
González Campo, Mariano (University of Murcia-University of Bergen): Tolkien,
J. R. R. 2009: The Legend of Sigurd & Gudrún. Selim 15 (2008): 157–161.
Faya, Fátima (University of Santiago de Compostela): Taavitsainen, Irma &
Jucker, Andreas H. 2008: Speech Acts in the History of English. Selim 15
(2008): 163–168.
331
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Comprehensive contents
Selim 16 (2009)
Ogura, Michiko (Chiba University): Beowulf and the Book of Swords: similarities
and differences in scenes, features and epithets. Selim 16 (2009): 7–22.
Sato. Kiriko (Kumamoyo Gakuen University): Old English geond expressing
duration of time: the Winchester usage. Selim 16 (2009): 23–45.
Sánchez de Nieva, María José (University of Seville): The significance of Mary’s
role in the Exeter Book Advent Lyrics. Selim 16 (2009): 47–63.
Ritt, Nikolaus (University of Vienna): Exploring Middle English (mor-)
phonotactics: the case of word-final /nd/. Selim 16 (2009): 65–89.
Yeager, R. F. (University of West Florida): John Gower’s Iberian footprint: the
manuscripts. Selim 16 (2009): 91–101.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Housing memory
in the late medieval literary tradition: Chaucer’s House of Fame. Selim 16
(2009): 103–119.
Sánchez Reed, Melania (University of Málaga) & Antonio Miranda García
(University of Málaga): A semi-automatic part-of-speech tagging system
for Middle English corpora: overcoming the challenges. Selim 16 (2009):
121–147.
Sayers, William (Cornell University): Groin ‘crease at the thigh and abdomen’
and ‘snout’: etymologies, homonymity, and resolution. Selim 16 (2009):
151–158.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Carrera, Anunciación & Carrera, María
José eds. 2009: Philip Perry’s Sketch of the Ancient British History: A Critical
Edition. Selim 16 (2009): 161–163.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Scattergood, John 2010: Occasions for
Writing: Essays on Medieval and Renaissance Literature, Politics and Society.
Selim 16 (2009): 165–166.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): Vázquez, Nila ed. 2009: The
Tale of Gamelyn of The Canterbury Tales. An Annotated Edition. Selim 16
(2009): 167–170.
Pérez Lorido, Rodrigo (University of Oviedo): Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis 2010:
Beowulf. Selim 16 (2009): 171–172.
Moreno Olalla, David (University of Málaga): Gutiérrez Arranz, José María 2010.
La teoría de la traducción desde la Grecia clásica hasta la Edad Media.
Sistematización en los comentarios y traducciones de La Consolación de la
Filosofía de Boecio (I). Selim 16 (2009): 173–182.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
332
Comprehensive contents
Selim 17 (2010)
Laing, Margaret (University of Edinburgh): John Whittokesmede as
parlamentarian and horse owner in Yale University Library, Beinecke MS
163. Selim 17 (2010): 7–78.
Sayers, William (Cornell University): Germanic gabben, Old French gaber, English
gab: heroic boasting and mockery. Selim 17 (2010): 79–89.
Carrillo Linares, María José (University of Huelva): Chaucer’s Physician’s Tale:
authority, sovereignty, and power. Selim 17 (2010): 91–109.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): The religious sense of humour in
the English Mystery Plays. Selim 17 (2010): 111–134.
Domínguez Rodríguez, María Victoria (University of Las Palmas de Gran
Canaria): Constructing anatomical terminology in Middle English: the
case of British Library, MS Sloane 3486 (ff . 140v–147v). Selim 17 (2010):
135–162.
Gualberto Valverde, Rebeca (Complutense University): Malory’s ‘Vertuouse Love’
as metaphor of decline: Elaine of Astolat and the downfall of Camelot.
Selim 17 (2010): 163–172.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Purchas’s pilgrim itinerary and 〈Keer〉,
Spain. Selim 17 (2010): 175–177.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Magennis, Hugh 2011: The Cambridge
Introduction to Anglo-Saxon Literature. Selim 17 (2010): 181–183.
Álvarez López, Francisco José (University of Exeter): Tinti, Francesca 2010:
Sustaining Belief: The Church of Worcester from c. 870 to c. 1100. Selim 17
(2010): 185–189.
Sáez Hidalgo, Ana (University of Valladolid) & R. F. Yeager (University of West
Florida): John Gower in Spain… anew. Report of the II Congress of the
International John Gower Society (Valladolid, 18–21 July 2011). Selim 17
(2010): 191–193.
Selim 18 (2011)
Monk, Christopher (University of Manchester): Defending Rihthæmed: the
normalizing of marital sexuality in the Anglo-Saxon penitentials. Selim
18 (2011): 7–48.
Peña Gil, Pilar (University of Seville): The witch, the ogress, and the temptress: defining
Grendel’s mother in Beowulf and film adaptations. Selim 18 (2011): 49–75.
333
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Comprehensive contents
Lazikani, Ayoush (University of Oxford): Defamiliarization in the hagiographies
of the Katherine Group: an anchoress’ reading. Selim 18 (2011): 77–102.
Keohane, Colin J. (University of West Florida): He Fond the Schip of Gret Array:
implications of John Gower’s maritime vocabulary. Selim 18 (2011): 103–
127.
Dark, Rebecca (Dallas Baptist University): Visions, power, and Margery Kempe.
Selim 18 (2011): 129–162.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Orosius’s Ormesta and John Capgrave.
Selim 18 (2011): 165–168.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): A Celtic etymology for struggle “contend,
fight”. Selim 18 (2011): 169–171.
Martínez-Dueñas, José Luis (University of Granada): Hernández-Campoy, Juan
Manuel & Juan Camilo Conde Silvestre 2012: The Handbook of Historical
Sociolinguistics. Selim 18 (2011): 175–180.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Saunders, Corinne 2010: Magic and the
Supernatural in Medieval English Romance. Selim 18 (2011): 181–183.
Moreno Olalla, David (University of Málaga): Reynhout, Lucien 2006: Formules
latines de colophons. Selim 18 (2011): 185–195.
Pascual, Rafael J. (University of Granada): Terasawa, Jun 2011: Old English Metre:
an Introduction. Selim 18 (2011): 197–206.
Meindl, Robert J. (California State University): Filardo-Llamas, Laura, Brian
Gastle & Marta Gutiérrez Rodríguez eds. 2012: Gower in Context(s).
Scribal, Linguistic, Literary and Socio-Historical Readings. Selim 18 (2011):
207–223.
Selim 19 (2012)
Boyd, Phoebe, Michael D. C. Drout, Namiko Hitotsubashi, Michael J. Kahn,
Mark D. LeBlanc & Leah Smith (Wheaton College, Massachusetts):
Lexomic analysis of Anglo- Saxon prose: establishing controls with the
Old English Penitential and the Old English translation of Orosius. Selim
19 (2012): 7–58.
García García, Luisa & Esaúl Ruiz Narbona (University of Seville): Labile verbs
and word order in Early Middle English: an initial study. Selim 19 (2012):
59–79.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
334
Comprehensive contents
Dumas, María (University of Buenos Aires - CONICET (IMHICIHU)): The use
of the pilgrim disguise in the Roman de Horn, Boeve de Haumtone and
their Middle English translations. Selim 19 (2012): 81–110.
Tedford, Margaret (Queen’s University Belfast): Eorðscræf, eglond and iscealdne sæ:
landscape, literalism and metaphor in some Old English elegies. Selim 19
(2012): 111–141.
Gutiérrez-Ortiz, María del Mar (Cornell University): “Work:” The shift from
empathy to sympathy in The York Play of the Crucifixion. Selim 19 (2012):
143–158.
Glaeske, Keith (Independent scholar): Gower and the daughters of Eve. Selim 19
(2012): 161–174.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis & Laura
Torrado Mariñas 2012: Judith del Cotton Vitellius A. XV ff. 202r–209v:
Texto, estudio y traducción. Selim 19 (2012): 177–181.
Pascual, Rafael J. (University of Granada): Pons-Sanz, Sara M. 2013: The Lexical
Effects of Anglo-Scandinavian Linguistic Contact on Old English. Selim 19
(2012): 183–188.
Selim 20 (2013–2014)
Neidorf, Leonard (Harvard University): Lexical evidence for the relative
chronology of Old English poetry. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 7-48.
Pascual, Rafael J. (University of Granada): Three-position verses and the metrical
practice of the Beowulf poet. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 49–79.
Brown, Michelle P. (University of London): Beowulf and the origins of the written
Old English vernacular. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 81–120.
Keynes, Simon D. (of Cambridge): England and Spain during the reign of King
Æthelred the Unready. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 121–166.
Thomas, Carla Maria (New York University): Orm’s vernacular Latin. Selim 20
(2013–2014): 167–197.
Stevenson, Kath (Queen’s University Belfast): Some extra-linguistic evidence for
the Irish provenance of Longleat House, Marquess of Bath, MS 29, and
Oxford, Bodleian Library MS E Mus 232. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 199–236.
Caro Partridge, Eneas (University of Seville): Refreshing the legend of Sherwood
Forest: manipulation of history and tradition in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood
(2010). Selim 20 (2013–2014): 237–249.
335
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Comprehensive contents
Cooper, Helen (University of Cambridge): Medieval drama in the Elizabethan
Age. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 251–273.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (Universty of Vigo): Amodio, Mark C. 2014: The
Anglo-Saxon Literature Handbook. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 277–284.
Porck, Thijs (Leiden University): Fulk, R. D. 2014: An Introductory Grammar
of Old English with an Anthology of Texts. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 285–288.
Ortega-Barrera, Ivalla (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): Calle-Martín,
Javier & Miguel Ángel Castaño-Gil 2013: A Late Middle English Remedybook (MS Wellcome 542, ff. 1r–20v). A Scholarly Edition. Selim 20 (2013–
2014): 289–293.
Gutiérrez-Ortiz, María del Mar (Cornell University): Moralejo Álvarez, José Luis
2013: Historia eclesiástica del pueblo de los anglos. Beda el Venerable. Selim
20 (2013–2014): 295–305.

SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
336
AUTHOR INDEX TO SELIM 1–20
Aguirre Dabán, Manuel (Autonomous University Madrid): “Beot”, Hybris, and
the will in Beowulf. Selim 6 (1996): 5–31.
Alcaraz-Sintes, Alejandro (University of Jaén): Old English ditransitive adjectives.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 9–49.
Alonso Almeida, F. (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): ‘As it ys seyde
to fore’. Some linguistic evidence in the process of compiling Middle
English medical recipes. Selim 8 (1998): 171–191.
Alonso Almeida, Francisco (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): Smith,
Jeremy J. 1999: Essentials of Early English. Selim 9 (1999): 207–210.
Álvarez López, Francisco Javier (Universities of Manchester & Vigo): The AngloSaxon Chronicle 755: an annotated bibliography of the Cynewulf and
Cyneheard episode from Plummer to Bremmer. Selim 13 (2005–2006):
99–117.
Álvarez López, Francisco José (University of Exeter): Tinti, Francesca 2010:
Sustaining Belief: The Church of Worcester from c. 870 to c. 1100. Selim 17
(2010): 185–189.
Álvarez-Faedo, María José (University of Oviedo): The role of the church in the
incipient medieval drama: from street theatre to morality plays. Selim 7
(1997): 181–191.
Arbesú, David (University of Massachusetts, Amherst): Geoffrey Chaucer’s
Parlement of Foules: A new stemma of the Hammond manuscripts. Selim
11 (2001–2002): 51–96.
Bernárdez, Enrique (Complutense University): Toward a common history of the
Germanic and European languages in the Middle Ages. Selim 12 (2003–
2004): 5–31.
Biggam, Carole: (University of Glasgow): Old English þeru and Modern English
tharf-cakes. Selim 5 (1995): 109–115.
Blake, Norman Francis (University of Sheffield): The literary development of the
Reynard story in England. Selim 8 (1998): 9–34.
Boyd, Phoebe, Michael D. C. Drout, Namiko Hitotsubashi, Michael J. Kahn,
Mark D. LeBlanc & Leah Smith (Wheaton College, Massachusetts):
Lexomic analysis of Anglo-Saxon prose: establishing controls with the
Old English Penitential and the Old English translation of Orosius. Selim
19 (2012): 7–58.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo) & Bruce Mitchell (University of
Oxford): On Old English studies today. Selim 4 (1994): 133–139.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): An interview with F. C. Robinson.
Selim 1 (1991): 143–147.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Bruce Mitchell, On Old English:
Selected Papers. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988. Selim 1 (1991): 158–161.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Clayton, Mary (1990): The Cult
of the Virgin Mary in Anglo-Saxon England. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press. Selim 3 (1993): 173–179.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Fred C. Robinson 1993: The Tomb
of Beowulf and Other Essays on Old English. Oxford, B. Blackwell. Selim 4
(1994): 156–163.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Malcolm Godden & Michael
Lapidge, eds: The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1991. Selim 2 (1992): 196–202.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Medieval Literary Theory and
Criticism c.1100–c.1375: The Commentary Tradition, ed. by A. J. Minnis
and A. B. Scott, with the assistance of David Wallace. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1988. Selim 1 (1991): 154–157.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): O’Keeffe O’Brien Katherine ed.
1997: Reading Old English Texts. Selim 7 (1997): 195–206.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1992–1993. Selim 3 (1993): 198–210.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1992–1994. Selim 4 (1994): 179–187.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1993–1995. Selim 5 (1995): 166–177.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1995–1997. Selim 6 (1996): 194–206.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Old and Middle English
bibliography 1997–1998. Selim 7 (1997): 238–247.
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Peter S. Baker ed. 1995: Beowulf:
Basic Readings. Norfolk & London: Garland Publishing. Selim 6 (1996):
157–166.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
338
Author Index
Bravo García, Antonio (University of Oviedo): Prayer as a literary device in The
Battle of Maldon and in The Poem of the Cid. Selim 2 (1992): 31–46.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Michael Swanton 1997: The Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle, translated and edited by Michael Swanton. Dent: London.
Selim 6 (1996): 155–156.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): A Britonnic etymology for luche ‘throw’
in Patience 230. Selim 3 (1993): 150–153.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): A Celtic etymology for Old English
claedur, ‘clapper’. Selim 5 (1995): 119–121.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): A Celtic etymology for struggle “contend,
fight”. Selim 18 (2011): 169–171.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): American Notes and Queries 15/2 (Spring
2002). Selim 11 (2001–2002): 182–183.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Bune ‘maiden, beloved’ in Ancrene Wisse.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 255–257.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Carrera, Anunciación & Carrera, María
José eds. 2009: Philip Perry’s Sketch of the Ancient British History: A Critical
Edition. Selim 16 (2009): 161–163.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Deale ‘take note’ in Ancrene Wisse. Selim
13 (2005–2006): 259–260.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Did Sir Thomas Philipps (fl. 1489–1520)
write I love a flower? Selim 6 (1996): 149–152.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Four Middle English notes: calf ‘shank,
silk ‘prey’, Clanvowe’s cuckoo and William Worcestre’s ‘donyton’. Selim 11
(2001–2002): 169–176.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Herebarde in Ancrene Riwle. Selim 14
(2007): 279–283.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Magennis, Hugh 2011: The Cambridge
Introduction to Anglo-Saxon Literature. Selim 17 (2010): 181–183.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Middle English sness, ‘cluster’: Middle
Irish popp, ‘shoot, tendril’. Selim 5 (1995): 132–136.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Murdoch, Brian (1993): Cornish
Literature. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer. Selim 3 (1993): 170–172.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Nurd ‘Uproar’ in the AB Language.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 261–264.
339
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Old English hreol, ‘reel’: Welsh rheol,
‘rule’. Selim 5 (1995): 122–126.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Orosius’s Ormesta and John Capgrave.
Selim 18 (2011): 165–168.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Purchas’s pilgrim itinerary and 〈Keer〉,
Spain. Selim 17 (2010): 175–177.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Richard Rolle’s tagild, ‘entangled’: Welsh
tagu, ‘choke’, tagell, ‘snare’. Selim 5 (1995): 127–131.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Rowland, Jenny, Early Welsh Saga
Poetry: a study and edition of the ‘Englynion’. Pp. x + 688. Cambridge: D.
S. Brewer, 1990. Selim 1 (1991): 150–153.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Rung ‘arise’ in Ancrene Wisse. Selim 13
(2005–2006): 265–266.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Saunders, Corinne 2010: Magic and the
Supernatural in Medieval English Romance. Selim 18 (2011): 181–183.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Scattergood, John 2010: Occasions for
Writing: Essays on Medieval and Renaissance Literature, Politics and Society.
Selim 16 (2009): 165–166.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): Sir Gawain’s journey and Holywell,
Wales. Selim 5 (1995): 116–118.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): The Lollard Disestablishment Bill and
Rocester, Staffordshire. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 251–253.
Breeze, Andrew (University of Navarre): The Virgin Mary and romance. Selim 1
(1991): 124–133.
Brown, Michelle P. (University of London): Beowulf and the Origins of the
Written Old English Vernacular. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 81–120.
Buckett-Rivera, Alison (University of Corunna): Motherhood in The Wife of
Bath. Selim 6 (1996): 103–116.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Oviedo): Bravo, Antonio 1998: Fe
y literature en el período anglosajón, ss. VII-XI (la plegaria como texto
literario). & Bravo, Antonio 1998: Los lays heroicos y los cantos épicos cortos
en el inglés antiguo. Selim 7 (1997): 207–213.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Oviedo): Catalina Montes, María Pilar
Fernández & Gudelia Rodríguez 1995: El Inglés Antiguo en el marco
de las lenguas germánicas occidentales, Madrid, Consejo Superior de
Investigaciones Científicas. Selim 5 (1995): 156–159.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
340
Author Index
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Oviedo): New trends, old paths or
viceversa: Wulf & Eadwacer. Selim 7 (1997): 51–81.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (University of Vigo): Psychology, space/time and
ecology in The Wife’s Lament. Selim 8 (1998): 157–170.
Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis (Universty of Vigo): Amodio, Mark C. 2014: The
Anglo-Saxon Literature Handbook. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 277–284.
Bullón, María (Cornell University): Bernardo Santano Moreno 1990: Estudio
sobre Confessio Amantis de John Gower y su versión castellana Confisyon
del amante de Juan de Cuenca. Cáceres, Ediciones de la Universidad de
Extremadura. Selim 4 (1994): 164–167.
Cabanillas, Isabel de la Cruz (University of Alcalá): Semantic primes in Old
English: a preliminary study of descriptors. Selim 14 (2007): 37–58.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): & Antonio Miranda García (University
of Málaga): On the quantity of ⟨i⟩ in Old English words ending in -lic and
-lice. Selim 7 (1997): 83–96.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): Fernández, F. 1998: Middle English
Texts: Translation and Philological Commentary. Selim 9 (1999): 211–215.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): Juan de la Cruz, Ángel Cañete &
Antonio Miranda 1995: Introducción Histórica a la Lengua Inglesa. Málaga:
Ágora. Selim 6 (1996): 172–177.
Calle Martín, Javier (University of Málaga): Stereotyped comparisons in the
language of Geoffrey Chaucer. Selim 6 (1996): 64–84.
Campos Vilanova, Xavier (University Jaume I): Ælfric refers to Bishop Possidis
(with the Source). Selim 4 (1994): 121–123.
Campos Vilanova, Xavier (University Jaume I): Janet Bately 1993: Anonymous Old
English Homilies. A Preliminary Bibliography of Source Studies. Binghamton,
Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, State University of
New York (SUNY). Selim 4 (1994): 153–155.
Campos Vilanova, Xavier (University Jaume I): The Latin sources of one of
Ælfric’s Old English Homilies on Saint Stephen. Selim 7 (1997): 97–124.
Caro Partridge, Eneas (University of Seville): Refreshing the legend of Sherwood
Forest: Manipulation of history and tradition in Ridley Scott’s Robin
Hood (2010). Selim 20 (2013–2014): 237–249.
Carrera de la Red, Anunciación (University of Valladolid) & María José Carrera
de la Red (University of Valladolid): Philip Perry’s manuscript Sketch of
341
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
British History (c.1770): Editing a Vallisoletan historical record of Early
Britain. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 147–165.
Carrillo Linares, María José (University of Huelva): Chaucer’s Physician’s Tale:
authority, sovereignty, and power. Selim 17 (2010): 91–109.
Carrillo Linares, María José (University of Huelva): Lexical dialectal items in
Cursor Mundi: contexts of occurrence and geographical distribution.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 151–178.
Carroll, Ruth (University of Turku): Historical English phraseology and the
extender tag. Selim 15 (2008): 7–37.
Cohen, Jeffrey J. (Harvard University): The use of Monsters and the Middle Ages.
Selim 2 (1992): 47–69.
Colahan, Clark (Whitman College): Morgain the Fay and the Lady of the Lake in
a broader mythological context. Selim 1 (1991): 83–105.
Cole, Marcelle (University of Seville): What is the Northern Subject Rule? The
resilience of a medieval constraint in Tyneside English. Selim 15 (2008):
91–114.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia) González Campo, Mariano
ed. & trad. 2003: Saga de Hervör y saga de Bósi. Selim 12 (2003–2004):
195–199.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Charles R. Dodwell 2000:
Anglo-Saxon Gestures and the Roman Stage. Selim 10 (2000): 169–175.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Jorge Luis Bueno Alonso
2001: El discurso poético elegíaco del Inglés Antiguo. Selim 11 (2001–2002):
188–193.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Smith, Jeremy 2007: Sound
Change and the History of English. Selim 15 (2008): 151–156.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): Spanish words in Medieval
English lexicon: Sources and problems. Selim 8 (1998): 91–100.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): The spaces of medieval
intertextuality: Deor as a Palimpsest. Selim 5 (1995): 63–77.
Conde Silvestre, Juan Camilo (University of Murcia): The Wanderer and The
Seafarer: A bibliography 1971–1991. Selim 2 (1992): 170–186.
Contreras, Eugenio (Complutense University): D. C. Calder & T. V. Christy
(eds.): Germania: Comparative Studies in the Old Germanic Languages and
Literatures. Wolfeboro: D.S. Brewer, 1988. Selim 1 (1991): 161–163.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
342
Author Index
Cooper, Helen (University of Cambridge): Medieval drama in the Elizabethan
Age. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 251–273.
Crespo García, Begoña (University of Corunna): Vera, Javier Díaz, Ed. 2002:
A Changing World of Words. Studies in English Historical Lexicography,
Lexicology and Semantics. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 200–208.
Crespo García, Begoña (University of Corunna): Wright, Laura 1996: Sources of
London English. Medieval Thames Vocabulary. Selim 7 (1997): 214–217.
Crespo, Begoña (University of Corunna) & Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel (University
of Corunna): Medicine, astronomy, affixes and others: an account of verb
formation in some early scientific works. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 179–197.
Cubas Peña, Rebeca (University of La Laguna): Suzanne C. Hagedorn 2004:
Abandoned Women: Rewriting the Classics in Dante, Boccaccio and Chaucer.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 269–274.
Dañobeitia, María Luisa (University of Granada): Two sides of a triangle: the
beginning of Gawain’s pentangle in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
Selim 1 (1991): 45–82.
Dark, Rebecca (Dallas Baptist University): Visions, power, and Margery Kempe.
Selim 18 (2011): 129–162.
De la Cruz Cabanillas, Isabel (University of Alcalá): Studies in the language of
some manuscripts of Rolle’s Ego Dormio. Selim 8 (1998): 147–156.
De la Cruz Fernández, Juan (University of Málaga): Old English noun declensions.
Selim 3 (1993): 26–42.
Díaz Vera, Javier (University of Castilla-La Mancha): On the linguistic status of
Medieval copies and translations of Old English documentary texts. Selim
6 (1996): 51–63.
Domínguez Rodríguez, María Victoria (University of Las Palmas de Gran
Canaria): Constructing anatomical terminology in Middle English: the
case of British Library, MS Sloane 3486 (ff . 140v–147v). Selim 17 (2010):
135–162.
Donoghue, Daniel (Harvard University): On the non-Integrity of Beowulf. Selim
1 (1991): 29–44.
Drout, Michael (Wheaton College): Anglo-Saxon wills and the inheritance of
tradition in the English Benedictine reform. Selim 10 (2000): 5–54.
343
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
Dumas, María (University of Buenos Aires - CONICET (IMHICIHU)): The use
of the pilgrim disguise in the Roman de Horn, Boeve de Haumtone and
their Middle English translations. Selim 19 (2012): 81–110.
Esteban Segura, Laura (University of Málaga) & Nadia Obegi Gallardo (University
of Málaga): Absolute constructions in the Old English Gospels: a casestudy. Selim 14 (2007): 87–105.
Esteban Segura, Laura (University of Murcia): An interview with Sally Mapstone.
Selim 15 (2008): 139–149.
Farrell, Mary (University Jaume I): Ann Hagen 1994: A Handbook of Anglo-Saxon
Food, Processing and Consumption. Oxford, Anglo-Saxon Books. Selim 5
(1995): 139–141.
Faya, Fátima (University of Santiago de Compostela): Taavitsainen, Irma &
Jucker, Andreas H. 2008: Speech Acts in the History of English. Selim 15
(2008): 163–168.
Fernández Cuesta, Julia (University of Seville): A pragmatic approach to the Wife
of Bath’s Tale. Selim 3 (1993): 103–116.
Fernández García, Alfonso (University of Oviedo) & García Teruel, Gabriela
(University of Vigo-Ourense): Britain’s time: Malory’s Morte d’Arthur
Book VII. Selim 9 (1999): 69–78.
Fernández Guerra, Ana (University Jaume I): Middle English origins of presentday distinction in the pronunciation of word-final or pre-consonantal
sequences -or, -oar, -oor, -our. Selim 8 (1998): 223–238.
Fernández Rodríguez, Carmen María (University of Corunna): New contexts for
the classics: wanderers and revolutionaries in the tales of the Franklin and
the Clerk. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 225–247
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): Anthony Fox 1995: Linguistic
Reconstruction. An Introduction to Theory and Method. Oxford, Oxford
University Press. Selim 5 (1995): 160–165.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): David Burnley: The History
of the English Language. A Source Book. London, Longman, 1992. Selim 2
(1992): 209–217.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): De la Cruz, Juan & Ángel
Cañete (1992): Historia del inglés. (Fundamentación e historímetro). Málaga:
Ediciones Edinford. Selim 3 (1993): 189–197.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
344
Author Index
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): Godden, Malcolm: The
Making of Piers Plowman. Longman: London & New York, 1990. Selim
1 (1991): 166–173.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): John Burrow & Thorlac
Turville-Petre: A Book of Middle English. Oxford, B. Blackwell, 1992.
Selim 2 (1992): 218–223.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): María Bullón-Fernández
2000: Fathers and Daughters in Gower’s Confessio Amantis. Selim 10
(2000): 177–183.
Fernández-Corugedo, S. G. (University of Oviedo): Roger Lass 1994: Old English.
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press. Selim 4 (1994): 168–178.
Fernández-Corugedo, S.G. (University of Oviedo): Jones, Charles: A History of
English Phonology. Longman: London & New York, 1989. Selim 1 (1991):
173–178.
Fidalgo Monge, Susana (University of León): The sea in Beowulf, The Wanderer
and The Seafarer: on semantic fields and Mediterranean limitations. Selim
9 (1999): 155–162.
Fraga Fuentes, María Amelia (University of Santiago de Compostela): On the
use of the Old Man figure in a Medieval and a Renaissance text. Selim 9
(1999): 79–90.
Galván Reula, Fernando (University of Alcalá): Malory revisited: from Caxton to
Steinbeck. Selim 8 (1998): 35–75.
Galván Reula, Fernando (University of La Laguna): Rewriting Anglo-Saxon:
notes on the presence of Old English in contemporary literature. Selim 2
(1992): 70–90.
García García, Luisa & Esaúl Ruiz Narbona (University of Seville): Labile verbs
and word order in Early Middle English: an Initial Study. Selim 19 (2012):
59–79.
García Martínez, Isabel (University of Oviedo): Destiny, fortune and predestination
in Troilus and Criseyde. Selim 1 (1991): 134–142.
García Teruel, Gabriela (University of Oviedo): P. Gómez Bedate: Boccaccio:
Decamerón. 2 vols. Selección de Lecturas Medievales, Siruela, Madrid,
1990. Selim 1 (1991): 164–166.
Garrido Anes, Edurne (University of Huelva): Manuscript relations through form
and content in the Middle English Circa Instans. Selim 13 (2005–2006):
199–224.
345
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
Glaeske, Keith (Independent scholar): Gower and the daughters of Eve. Selim 19
(2012): 161–174.
Gómez Calderón, María José (University of Seville): Clare A. Simmons 2001:
Medievalism and the Quest for the “Real” Middle Ages. Selim 11 (2001–
2002): 203–209.
Gómez Calderón, María José (University of Seville): Driver, Martha W. & Sidney
Ray eds. 2004: The medieval hero on screen: representations from Beowulf to
Buffy. Jefferson McFarland. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 209–214.
Gómez Calderón, María José (University of Seville): Harold of England: the
Romantic revision of the last Anglo-Saxon king. Selim 9 (1999): 35–43.
González Campo, Mariano (University of Murcia): Höskuldur Thráinsson,
Hjalmar: Petersen, Jógvan í Lon Jacobsen & Zakaris Svabo Hansen (eds.)
2004: Faroese. An Overview and Reference Grammar. Selim 13 (2005–
2006): 275–280.
González Campo, Mariano (University of Murcia): María Pilar Fernández Álvarez
1999: Antiguo islandés. Historia y lengua. Selim 10 (2000): 185–192.
González Campo, Mariano (University of Murcia-University of Bergen): Tolkien,
J. R. R. 2009: The Legend of Sigurd & Gudrún. Selim 15 (2008): 157–161.
González Fernández de Sevilla, José Manuel (University of Alicante): Social
consciousness and literary dissent in Middle English poetry. Selim 2
(1992): 91–105.
González Orta, Marta (UNED): The Old English verbs of smell perception
and emission: analysis of the interface of their semantic and syntactic
representation. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 33–48.
Gonzalo Abascal, Pedro (University of Oviedo) & Antonio Bravo García
(University of Oviedo): Sapientia et Fortitudo in the Anglo-Saxon epic
heroes and in Ælfric’s English saints. Selim 3 (1993): 72–102.
Gonzalo Abascal, Pedro (University of Oviedo) & Antonio Bravo García
(University of Oviedo): Early Christian funeral ceremonies and Germanic
funeral rites. Selim 5 (1995): 46–62.
Gotti, Maurizio (University of Bergamo): The Middle English chapter on the
‘modal story’. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 119–150.
Gray, Douglas (University of Oxford): Fayttes of armes and of chyvalrye. Selim 7
(1997): 5–31.
Gualberto Valverde, Rebeca (Complutense University): Malory’s ‘Vertuouse Love’
as metaphor of decline: Elaine of Astolat and the downfall of Camelot.
Selim 17 (2010): 163–172.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
346
Author Index
Guarddon Anelo, Carmen (UNED): The locative uses of the preposition at in the
Old English version of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People: a
cognitive approach. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 117–145.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (San Antonio Catholic University): Marcos, Manuel
Antonio ed. & trad. 2003: Dictis Cretensis: Ephemeris Belli Troiani. Selim
12 (2003–2004): 191–194.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (University of Alcalá) & Ricardo J. Sola Buil
(University of Alcalá): Carol Poster and Richard Utz eds. 1996: Disputatio.
An International Transdisciplinary Journal of the Late Middle Ages. Vol. I.
The Late Medieval Epistle. Selim 7 (1997): 218–226.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (University of Alcalá): The classical and modern
concept of auctoritas in Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. Selim 6
(1996): 85–102.
Gutiérrez Arranz, José María (University of Alcalá): The precepts of classical
rhetoric in the letters of Geoffrey Chaucer’s Troylus & Criseyde. Selim 9
(1999): 143–154.
Gutiérrez Barco, Maximino (University of Alcalá): The boar in Beowulf and Elene:
a Germanic symbol of protection. Selim 9 (1999): 163–171.
Gutiérrez-Ortiz, María del Mar (Cornell University): “Work:” The shift from
empathy to sympathy in The York Play of the Crucifixion. Selim 19 (2012):
143–158.
Gutiérrez-Ortiz, María del Mar (Cornell University): Moralejo Álvarez, José Luis
2013: Historia eclesiástica del pueblo de los anglos. Beda el Venerable. Selim
20 (2013–2014): 295–305.
Guzmán González, Trinidad (University of León): Hogg, Richard (General Ed.):
The Cambridge History of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press. Volume I: The Beginnings to 1066. Edited by Richard M.
Hogg (1992). Selim 3 (1993): 180–188.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): Bernárdez, Enrique 1999: ¿Qué
son las lenguas? Selim 9: 220–225.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): Lass, Roger 1997. Historical
linguistics and language change. Selim 7 (1997): 227–237.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): MacTiernan, John 1999: El
guerrero número 13. Buenavista Home Video. Selim 9 (1999): 216–219.
Guzmán-González, Trinidad (University of León): Vázquez, Nila ed. 2009: The
Tale of Gamelyn of The Canterbury Tales. An Annotated Edition. Selim 16
(2009): 167–170.
347
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
Hebda, Anna (Adam Mickiewicz University): On the excrescent Middle English:
Selim 14 (2007): 141–161.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Both human and
divine: the conflict between confession and gossip in The Book of Margery
Kempe. Selim 14 (2007): 163–195.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Chaucerian distortions
in The Assembly of Ladies. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 27–49.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Housing memory
in the late medieval literary tradition: Chaucer’s House of Fame. Selim 16
(2009): 103–119.
Hernández Pérez, María Beatriz (University of La Laguna): Marie-José
Lemarchand ed & trad. 2000: Cristina de Pizán: La Ciudad de Las
Damas. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 194–199.
Hornero Corisco, Ana María (University of Saragossa): An analysis of the object
position in Ancrene Wisse and the Katherine Group. Selim 4 (1994): 74–93.
Iglesias-Rábade, Luis (University of Santiago de Compostela): Beowulf: some
examples of binary structures traditionally punctuated as paratactic
sequences. Selim 2 (1992): 6–30.
Insa Sales, Salvador (University Jaume I): The treatment of some Spanish matters
in the Old English Orosius. Selim 9 (1999): 173–179.
Jackson, Peter (University of Cambridge): The future of Old English: a personal
essay. Selim 3 (1993): 154–167.
Jacobs, Nicholas (University of Oxford): Conflictus Ovis et Lini. A model for The
Owl and the Nightingale. Selim 4 (1994): 7–19.
Johannesson, Nils-Lennart (Stockholm University): Icc hafe don swa summ þu
badd: an anatomy of the Preface to the Ormulum. Selim 14 (2007): 107–
140.
Keohane, Colin J. (University of West Florida): He Fond the Schip of Gret Array:
implications of John Gower’s maritime vocabulary. Selim 18 (2011): 103–
127.
Keynes, Simon D. (University of Cambridge): England and Spain during the reign
of King Æthelred the Unready. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 121–166.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
348
Author Index
Klinck, Anne L. (University of New Brunswick): Clare A. Lees & Gillian R.
Overing 2001: Double Agents: Women and Clerical Culture in Anglo-Saxon
England. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 184–187.
Laing, Margaret (University of Edinburgh): John Whittokesmede as
parlamentarian and horse owner in Yale University Library, Beinecke MS
163. Selim 17 (2010): 7–78.
Lass, Roger (Capetown University): Interpreting vs. disappearing: on texts as
historical objects. Selim 3 (1993): 7–25.
Lázaro Lafuente, Luis Alberto (University of Alcalá): Some speculations about
Chaucer’s Spanish literary sources. Selim 5 (1995): 18–28.
Lazikani, Ayoush (University of Oxford): Defamiliarization in the hagiographies
of the Katherine Group: an anchoress’ reading. Selim 18 (2011): 77–102.
León Sendra, Antonio (University of Córdoba) & Jesús Serrano Reyes (University
of Córdoba): Spanish references in The Canterbury Tales. Selim 2 (1992):
106–141.
León Sendra, Antonio R. (University of Córdoba) & Serrano Reyes, Jesús L.
(University of Córdoba): Chaucer and Montserrat. Selim 9 (1999): 123–143.
León Sendra, Antonio R. (University of Córdoba): Discourse and community in
the late 14th century. Selim 7 (1997): 125–151.
López Couso, María José (University of Santiago de Compostela) & Isabel
Moskowich-Spiegel (University of Corunna): Some editions of The Bruce.
A comparative account. Selim 4 (1994): 48–58.
Mairal Usón, Ricardo (Autonomous University of Madrid) & Javier Martín Arista
(University of Saragossa): Underlying predications and Latin-Old English
translation: two predicates under scrutiny. Selim 3 (1993): 43–56.
Maíz Arévalo, Carmen (Complutense University): ‘What sholde I make a lenger
tale of this?’: Linguistic and stylistic analysis of rhetorical questions in the
Canterbury Tales. Selim 15 (2008): 39–60.
Mancho Barés, Guzmán (University of Alcalá): Structural elements of Christ’s exile
and return figurae in Ormulum’s Latin Text XIV. Selim 9 (1999): 91–99.
Marqués Aguado, Teresa (University of Málaga): Old English punctuation
revisited: the case of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew. Selim 13
(2005–2006): 51–72.
349
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
Martín Arista, Javier (University of La Rioja): Analogy in functional syntax. Selim
4 (1994): 59–73.
Martín Arista, Javier (University of La Rioja): External control in functional
syntax: formulating LME constituent order rules. Selim 6 (1996): 32–50.
Martín Díaz, María Auxiliadora (University of La Laguna): Fernando Galván
2001: Literatura Inglesa Medieval. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 179–181.
Martín Díaz, María Auxiliadora (University of La Laguna): Old English in Middle
Kentish place-names. Selim 10 (2000): 55–76.
Martín Miguel, Francisco (University of Oviedo): April McMahon 1994:
Understanding Language Change. Cambridge, Cambridge University
Press. Selim 5 (1995): 147–155.
Martínez Magaz, Judit (University of León): Isabel Moskowich-Spiegel Fandiño &
Begoña Crespo García 2004: New Trends in English Historical Linguistics:
An Atlantic View. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 281–283.
Martínez Magaz, Judit (University of León): North, Richard & Allard, Joe (eds.)
2007: Beowulf and Other Stories. A New Introduction to Old English, Old
Icelandic and Anglo-Norman Literatures. Selim 14 (2007): 291–293.
Martínez Magaz, Judit (University of León): Richard Hogg 2002: An Introduction
to Old English. 200–202.
Martínez-Dueñas, José Luis (University of Granada): Hernández-Campoy, Juan
Manuel & Juan Camilo Conde Silvestre 2012: The Handbook of Historical
Sociolinguistics. Selim 18 (2011): 175–180.
Meindl, Robert J. (California State University): Filardo-Llamas, Laura, Brian
Gastle & Marta Gutiérrez Rodríguez eds. 2012: Gower in Context(s).
Scribal, Linguistic, Literary and Socio-Historical Readings. Selim 18 (2011):
207–223.
Méndez Naya, Belén (University of Santiago de Compostela): Bruce Mitchell 1995:
An Invitation to Old English and Anglo-Saxon England. Oxford, Blackwell.
Selim 5 (1995): 142–146.
Menéndez Otero, Carlos (University of Oviedo): Heath, I & A. McBride 1996:
Los Vikingos. Selim 9 (1999): 226–229.
Molina, Clara (Autonomous University Madrid) & Manuela Romano (Autonomous
University Madrid): Old texts in new vessels: teaching and learning HEL
online. Selim 14 (2007): 59–85.
Monk, Christopher (University of Manchester): Defending Rihthæmed: the
normalizing of marital sexuality in the Anglo-Saxon penitentials. Selim
18 (2011): 7–48.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
350
Author Index
Montes Mozo, Catalina (University of Salamanca) & María Pilar Fernández
Álvarez (University of Salamanca): Preverbation in the Old Germanic
languages: A research project. Selim 4 (1994): 94–117.
Mora Sena, María José (University of Seville): The power of the keys: A parallel to
the line drawings in BL MS Stowe 994. Selim 3 (1993): 57–71.
Moralejo, Teresa (University of Murcia): The semantics of Middle English
composite predicates. Selim 10 (2000): 101–124.
Moreno Olalla, David (University of Málaga): Gutiérrez Arranz, José María 2010.
La teoría de la traducción desde la Grecia clásica hasta la Edad Media.
Sistematización en los comentarios y traducciones de La Consolación de la
Filosofía de Boecio (I). Selim 16 (2009): 173–182.
Moreno Olalla, David (University of Málaga): Reynhout, Lucien 2006: Formules
latines de colophons. Selim 18 (2011): 185–195.
Morini, Carla (University of Calabria): The first English love romance without
‘love’: the Old English Apollonius of Tyre. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 109–125.
Moskowich-Spiegel, Isabel (University of Corunna): Cristina Mourón Figueroa
2005: El ciclo de York. Sociedad y cultura en la Inglaterra bajomedieval.
Selim 13 (2005–2006): 285–290.
Murillo López, Ignacio (University of Salamanca): Cynewulf and Cyneheard: a
different style for a different story. Selim 13 (2005–2006): 87–98.
Murtaugh, Daniel (Florida Atlantic University): The education of Theseus in the
Knight’s Tale. Selim 10 (2000): 141–168.
Neidorf, Leonard (Harvard University): Lexical Evidence for the relative
chronology of Old English poetry. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 7–48.
Núñez Pertejo, Paloma (University of Santiago de Compostela): The progressive
from Old English to Early Modern English. Selim 9 (1999): 21–34.
Ogura, Michiko (Chiba University): Beowulf and the Book of Swords: similarities
and differences in scenes, features and epithets. Selim 16 (2009): 7–22.
Ogura, Michiko (Chiba University): The Paris Psalter and the Metres of Boethius:
are they formulaic as Anglo-Saxon verses? Selim 14 (2007): 7–36.
Olivares Merino, Eugenio (University of Jaén): Gauvain and Gawain: the two sides
of the hero. Selim 9 (1999): 101–109.
351
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
Author Index
Olivares Merino, Eugenio (University of Jaén): I be not now he that ye of speken:
Middle English romances and the conventions of fin’amors. Selim 8
(1998): 117–146.
Orchard, Andy (University of Toronto): Reading Beowulf now and then. Selim 12
(2003–2004): 49–81.
Ortega-Barrera, Ivalla (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): Calle-Martín,
Javier & Miguel Ángel Castaño-Gil 2013: A Late Middle English Remedybook (MS Wellcome 542, ff. 1r–20v). A Scholarly Edition. Selim 20 (2013–
2014): 289–293.
Pascual, Rafael J. (University of Granada): Pons-Sanz, Sara M. 2013: The Lexical
Effects of Anglo-Scandinavian Linguistic Contact on Old English. Selim 19
(2012): 183–188.
Pascual, Rafael J. (University of Granada): Terasawa, Jun 2011: Old English Metre:
an Introduction. Selim 18 (2011): 197–206.
Pascual, Rafael J. (University of Granada): Three-position verses and the metrical
practice of the Beowulf poet. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 49–79.
Peña Gil, Pilar (University of Seville): The witch, the ogress, and the temptress: defining
Grendel’s mother in Beowulf and film adaptations. Selim 18 (2011): 49–75.
Pérez Fernández, Tamara (University of Valladolid): & Ana Sáez Hidalgo
(University of Valladolid): ‘A man textueel’: scribal readings and
interpretations of Troilus and Criseyde through the glosses in manuscript
British Library Harley 2392. Selim 14 (2007): 197–220.
Pérez Guerra, Javier (University of Vigo): Syntax and information hand in
hand? On extraposition and inversion from Late Middle English to
Contemporary English. Selim 5 (1995): 91–106.
Pérez Lorido, Rodrigo (University of Oviedo): Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis 2010:
Beowulf. Selim 16 (2009): 171–172.
Pérez Rodríguez, Eva M. (University of Oviedo): E. J. Morrall ed. 1996:
Piccolomini, Aeneas Silvius (Pius II): The Goodli History of the Ladye Lucres.
Oxford: EETS - Oxford University Press. Selim 6 (1996): 178–184.
Porck, Thijs (Leiden University): Fulk, R. D. 2014: An Introductory Grammar
of Old English with an Anthology of Texts. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 285–288.
Pysz, Agnieszka (Adam Mickiewicz University): Suárez-Gómez, Cristina 2006:
Relativization in Early English (950–1250): the Position of Relative Clauses.
Selim 14 (2007): 295–299.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
352
Author Index
Rambaran-Olm, M. R. (University of Glasgow): Is the title of the Old English
poem The Descent into Hell suitable? Selim 13 (2005–2006): 73–85.
Revard, Carter (Washington University, St. Louis): Was the Pearl Poet in
Aquitaine with Chaucer? A Note on Fade, I.149 of Sir Gawain and the
Green Knight. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 5–26.
Ribes Traver, Purificación (University of Valencia): Guenevere speaks: from
Malory to Mnookin. Selim 7 (1997): 33–49.
Ritt, Nikolaus (University of Vienna): Exploring Middle English (mor-)
phonotactics: the case of word-final /nd/. Selim 16 (2009): 65–89.
Rodrigues, Louis (Cambridge): Further observations concerning the translation
of Anglo-Saxon verse. Selim 4 (1994): 124–132.
Rodríguez Álvarez, Alicia (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria): Stephen
Pollington 1997: First Steps in Old English. Norfolk: Anglo-Saxon Books.
Selim 6 (1996): 167–171.
Rodríguez Álvarez, Alicia (University of Las Palmas de Gran Canaria):
Segmentation of fifteenth-century legal texts: a reconsideration of
punctuation. Selim 9 (1999): 11–20.
Rodríguez Redondo, Ana Laura (Complutense University) & Eugenio Contreras
Domingo (Complutense University): Ongitan: A case study of evidentiality
in Old English perception verbs. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 97–115.
Romano Mozo, Manuela (Madrid Autonomous University): Anger in Old English.
Selim 9 (1999): 45–56.
Rouse, Robert (University of Bristol): Expectation vs. Experience: encountering
the Saracen other in Middle English romance. Selim 10 (2000): 125–140.
Ruano-García, Javier (University of Salamanca): On the origins of sike ‘such’: a
revision in the light of LAEME and LALME. Selim 15 (2008): 125–136.
Ruiz Moneva, María Angeles (University of Saragossa): Compound nouns in the
Old English period: Ælfric’s Lives of Saints. Functional and pragmatic
approaches. Selim 8 (1998): 239–258.
Runda, Todd (University of Seville): Beowulf as king in light of the Gnomic
passages. Selim 5 (1995): 78–90.
Rutkowska, Hanna (Adam Mickiewicz University): Selected orthographic features
in English editions of the Book of Good Maners (1487–1507). Selim 12
(2003–2004): 127–142.
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Author Index
Sáez Hidalgo, Ana (University of Valladolid) & R. F. Yeager (University of West
Florida): John Gower in Spain… anew. Report of the II Congress of the
International John Gower Society (Valladolid, 18–21 July 2011). Selim 17
(2010): 191–193.
Salvador Bello, Mercedes (University of Seville): The arrival of the hero in a ship:
a common Leitmotif in OE regnal tables and the story of Scyld Scefing in
Beowulf. Selim 8 (1998): 205–221.
Salvador Bello, Mercedes (University of Seville): The nightingale as Æfensceop in
Exeter Riddle 8. Selim 9 (1999): 57–68.
Salvador-Rabaza Ramos, Asunción (University of València): A proposal of
performance for the York Mystery Cycle: external and internal evidence.
Selim 9 (1999): 181–190.
Sánchez de Nieva, María José (University of Seville): The significance of Mary’s
role in the Exeter Book Advent Lyrics. Selim 16 (2009): 47–63.
Sánchez Martí, Jordi (Cornell University): Chaucer’s Knight and the Hundred
Years War. Selim 7 (1997): 153–160.
Sánchez Reed, Melania (University of Málaga) & Antonio Miranda García
(University of Málaga): A semi-automatic part-of-speech tagging system
for Middle English corpora: overcoming the challenges. Selim 16 (2009):
121–147.
Sánchez-Martí, Jordi (University of Alicante): The Sowdoun of Babyloyne: A
description of the manuscript. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 181–189.
Sánchez-Roura, Teresa (University of Santiago de Compostela): Convention vs.
choice in securing the good-will of the reader: the Cely letters. Selim 10
(2000): 77–100.
Santano Moreno, Bernardo (University of Extremadura): Some observations
on the dates and circumstances of the fifteenth-century Portuguese and
Castilian translations of John Gower’s Confessio Amantis. Selim 1 (1991):
106–122.
Sato, Kiriko (Kumamoyo Gakuen University): Old English geond expressing
duration of time: the Winchester usage. Selim 16 (2009): 23–45.
Sayers, William (Cornell University): Germanic gabben, Old French gaber, English
gab: heroic boasting and mockery. Selim 17 (2010): 79–89.
Sayers, William (Cornell University): Groin ‘crease at the thigh and abdomen’
and ‘snout’: etymologies, homonymity, and resolution. Selim 16 (2009):
151–158.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
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Author Index
Sayers, William (Cornell University): King Alfred’s timbers. Selim 15 (2008):
117–124.
Scammell, Jennifer F. (University of Glasgow): Domesticating the Virgin: ‘Holy
labore’ and the late medieval household. Selim 15 (2008): 61–90.
Selim’s Editors (University of Oviedo): Medieval English studies in Spain (1997–
2001): Ph.D. theses and research projects. Selim 11 (2001–2002): 210–222.
Selim’s Editors (University of Oviedo): Medieval English Studies in Spain (2002–
2004): Ph.D. theses and research projects. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 215–225.
Serrano Reyes, Jesús (University of Córdoba): John of Gaunt’s intervention in
Spain: possible repercussions for Chaucer’s life and poetry. Selim 6 (1996):
117–145.
Serrano Reyes, Jesús (University of Córdoba): Spanish modesty in The Canterbury
Tales: Chaucer and Don Juan Manuel. Selim 5 (1995): 29–45.
Serrano Reyes, Jesus (University of Córdoba): The Chaucers in Spain: from the
wedding to the funeral. Selim 8 (1998): 193–203.
Serrano Reyes, Jesús (University of Córdoba): The Host’s idiolect. Selim 4 (1994):
20–47.
Shaw, Patricia (University of Oviedo): “Of Fish and Flesh and Tender Breede /
Of Win Both White and Reede”: eating and drinking in Middle English
narrative texts. Selim 1 (1991): 7–28.
Shaw, Patricia (University of Oviedo): Carol M. Meale ed. 1993: Women and
Literature in Britain, 1150–1500. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.
Selim 4 (1994): 143–152.
Shaw, Patricia (University of Oviedo): Jill Mann: Geoffrey Chaucer. Atlantic
Highlands, N. J. Humanities Press International, Inc., 1991. Selim 2
(1992): 188–196.
Shippey, Tom (Saint Louis University): Álvarez-Faedo, María José (ed.) 2007:
Avalon Revisited: Reworkings of the Arthurian Myth. Selim 14 (2007): 287–
290.
Sinisi, Lucía (University of Bari): Urbanization and pollution in an Irish (?) town
in the 14th century. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 160–178.
Sola Buil, Ricardo J. (University of Alcalá): Dramatic Perspective in Chaucer’s The
Canterbury Tales and Troilus and Criseyde. Selim 7 (1997): 161–180.
Sola Buil, Ricardo J. (University of Alcalá): Landscape and description of the
natural world in Chaucer. Selim 8 (1998): 77–90.
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Author Index
Sola Buil, Ricardo J. (University of Alcalá): The Canterbury Tales and its dramatic
background. Selim 9 (1999): 111–122.
Stevenson, Kath (Queen’s University Belfast): Some extra-linguistic evidence for
the Irish provenance of Longleat House, Marquess of Bath, MS 29, and
Oxford, Bodleian Library MS E Mus 232. Selim 20 (2013–2014): 199–236.
Tedford, Margaret (Queen’s University Belfast): Eorðscræf, eglond and iscealdne sæ:
landscape, literalism and metaphor in some Old English elegies. Selim 19
(2012): 111–141.
Tejada Caller, Paloma (Complutense University): N. F. Blake 1996: A History of
the English Language. Houndmills: MacMillan. Selim 6 (1996): 185–188.
Tejera Llano, Dionisia (University of Deusto): Medieval drama: the social use of
religion. Selim 9 (1999): 191–196.
Tejera Llano, Dionisia (University of Deusto): The Matter of Israel: the use of
little children in the miracles of the Holy Virgin during the Middle Ages.
Selim 5 (1995): 7–17.
Thomas, Carla Maria (New York University): Orm’s vernacular Latin. Selim 20
(2013–2014): 167–197.
Toda Iglesia, Fernando (University of Seville): From Sebell and The Grunye to
Seville and La Coruña: translating Barbour’s Bruce into Spanish. Selim 2
(1992): 154–168.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Bueno Alonso, Jorge Luis & Laura
Torrado Mariñas 2012: Judith del Cotton Vitellius A. XV ff. 202r–209v:
Texto, estudio y traducción. Selim 19 (2012): 177–181.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Chaucer’s Criseyde and Erudyce.
Selim 2 (1992): 142–153.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Dame Ragnell’s culture: the
voracious loathly lady. Selim 9 (1999): 197–204.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Griselda’s sisters: wifely patience
and sisterly rivalry in English tales and ballads. Selim 8 (1998): 101–116.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Lee Patterson: Chaucer and the
Subject of History. London, Routledge, 1991. Selim 2 (1992): 202–208.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): Sturdy stories: Medieval narrative
into popular ballad. Selim 12 (2003–2004): 143–159.
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
356
Author Index
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): The religious sense of humour in
the English Mystery Plays. Selim 17 (2010): 111–134.
Valdés Miyares, Rubén (University of Oviedo): The wonder tale pattern of Sir
Orfeo. Selim 3 (1993): 117–148.
Valenzuela, Setmaní (University of Seville): Robert E. Bjork & John D. Niles
eds. 1997: A Beowulf Handbook. Exeter: University of Exeter Press. Selim
6 (1996): 189–193.
Valenzuela, Setmaní (University of Seville): Roy M. Liuzza 2000: Beowulf: A New
Verse Translation. Selim 10 (2000): 193–200.
Williamson, Keith (University of Edinburgh): A Latin–Older Scots glossary in
Edinburgh University Library MS 205. Selim 14 (2007): 221–276.
Yeager, R. F. (University of West Florida): John Gower’s Iberian footprint: the
manuscripts. Selim 16 (2009): 91–101.
Zacher, Samantha (Vassar College): The rewards of poetry: ‘Homiletic’ verse
in Cambridge Corpus Christi College MS 201. Selim 12 (2003–2004):
83–108.

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SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
EDITORS’ NOTES
Selim reaches its twentieth number with the present volume: a truism.
An interesting figure though, because since we started editing it back in
1990 its contents have tried to offer its readership a variety of outstanding
research in English Mediaeval Studies from the modest academic
platform that Spain’s academic anglophiles were able to start. The journal
has had its ups and downs in its distribution: it appeared regularly every
year from 1991 until 2000, and then numbers 11, 12 and 13 had biennial
periodicity until 2006. After going back to the yearly issue from 2007 to
2012, number 20 is biennial again (2013–2014), and also now following a
somewhat established 21st century tradition, lags one year behind.
The present century has not been kind to Mediaeval Studies in
academic programmes: one of the salient features is now the general
dwindling of Arts Studies in University curricula, perhaps as a result of
the general discomfort that some societies and many universities seem
to have with the humanities. A reflection that may be a result of the
extension of a certain type of education principles that seem to place
their interest in devotional and derivational technology and in the pursuit
and worship of Mammon and his associates. In a sense, this is a very
Mediaeval frame of mind (greed and its long fangs) that is still with us
despite a pervasive consideration (and even public acknowledgement) that
such arcane disciplines (for the common mortals) as electronic editing,
manuscript digitizing, historical linguistics, textual criticism or ecdotics,
among others that could be brought to attention here, have contributed
significantly to the advancement, extension and democratization of, for
instance, digital cameras, mobile communication devices and all sorts of
word processing, computing skills and entertainment prospects. In short:
although mediaeval pageantry and scenery is relevant and very popular in
mass media ( just think of books, films, television series, or video games
set in fictional mediaeval-looking scenarios), the worldwide number of
academic programmes in Mediaeval Studies is now significantly smaller
than it used to be thirty years ago. Something which is not bad altogether,
since those who devote themselves to these aspects of science and academic
life are likely to have made their choice more advisedly than some of us
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Editors’ Notes
did a quarter of a century ago, and this is going to trigger much better
results both in terms of research and in terms of the general advancement
of science.
Selim 20, to continue a practice introduced in number 5, includes
an index of authors and contents of all 20 issues of the journal. The
indexes arrange some 280 articles, notes and reviews by 171 authors from
15 countries,1 representing 67 universities—30 of them in Spain and 37
abroad and overseas.2 All together it is not that bad that most authors
who have published in Selim are neither Spaniards not work in Spain
despite that the learned society responsible for this journal still titles itself
“Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature.” Also,
if we have a look at the evolution of topics published during these 20
issues, we see that they have shown the changes and shifts in the interests
of mediaevalists devoting themselves to the Old and Middle periods of
the English language and literature, and also show the remarkable general
1
Argentina, Austria, Canada, Finland, Germany, Great Britain, Ireland, Italy, Japan,
Netherlands, Norway, Spain, South Africa, Sweden and the United States of America.
2
Adam Mickiewicz University; Autonomous University of Madrid; California State
University; Capetown University; Chiba University; Complutense University; Cornell
University; Dallas Baptist University; Florida Atlantic University; Harvard University;
Kumamoyo Gakuen University; Leiden University; New York University; Queen’s
University Belfast; Saint Louis University; San Antonio Catholic University; Stockholm
University; UNED; University Jaume I; University of Alcalá; University of Alicante;
University of Bari; University of Bergamo; University of Bergen; University of Bristol;
University of Buenos Aires; University of Calabria; University of Cambridge; University
of Castilla-La Mancha; University of Córdoba; University of Corunna; University of
Deusto; University of Edinburgh; University of Exeter; University of Extremadura;
University of Glasgow; University of Granada; University of Huelva; University of Jaén;
University of La Laguna; University of La Rioja; University of Las Palmas de Gran
Canaria; University of León; University of London; University of Málaga; University
of Manchester; University of Massachusetts, Amherst; University of Murcia; University
of Navarre; University of New Brunswick; University of Oviedo; University of Oxford;
University of Salamanca; University of Santiago de Compostela; University of Saragossa;
University of Seville; University of Sheffield; University of Toronto; University of Turku;
University of Valencia; University of Valladolid; University of Vienna; University of
Vigo; University of West Florida; Vassar College; Washington University, St. Louis; and
Wheaton College, Massachusetts.
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Editors’ Notes
improvement in the scientific mood, manners and methodology that
scholars have developed since the arrival of computing in the very late
1980’s. In this sense, Selim may be an exemplary case to illustrate such
an evolution: it has always been edited on a computer-based platform
since its inception. Precisely as a result of the evolution in the electronic
tools that have ingrained themselves in our lives, it has also moved from
the limited font that we had to programme specifically back in 1990 so
that we could print thorn, eth or yogh, and such like, as they were not
easily available, and from Microsoft Word 3 (we soon moved to 5.1, quite
possibly still the best version in terms of accessibility and functionality)
and PageMaker to the several releases of Adobe InDesign that have been
used since 2007.
We would like to acknowledge the work and efforts of Selim’s editorial,
scientific and external advisory boards and committees during these 20
issues. Without their peer reviewing and wise suggestions this journal
would not have been possible in its present form. A word of praise and
thank you also goes to the abundant colleagues who have anonymously
and ars gratia artis quia non pecuniae or lucri causa, assessed (painfully
upon occasion, but being entertained in most cases) many of the originals
during these years. Thank you as well to the authors, whether published
or not, who decided that Selim was a journal interesting enough to
disseminate their work and sent their articles to be considered.
Finally, S. G. Fernández-Corugedo (the longest serving co-editor of
Selim), in a Gravesian manner, would like to say “goodbye to all that” and
welcome what the new series of the Society’s journal may bring in the
brave new period that is to start with issue number 21.
Issue number 20 of Selim accepted 12 contributions after careful peer
review and authorial revision. This does not mean that we do not expect
some controversial outcomes—as these have also been part of Selim’s
history—because one of the aims of scholarly publishing is precisely to
generate discussion and illuminate those aspects of scholarship that may
have been previously viewed under different lights.
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Editors’ Notes
As of May 2015, Selim is listed in the following reference indexes and
platforms: Carhus+, Dialnet, DICE, EBSCO, ERIH, ISOC, Latindex,
MIAR, MLA, MRHA, RESH.
We are happy to announce that the 27th International Selim
Conference will be held at the University of Granada on 17–19 September
2015. More information at: www.ugr.es/~selim27.
THE EDITORS
•
362
SELIM – STYLESHEET
& INSTRUCTIONS TO AUTHORS
Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature
Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
SELIM publishes articles, notes, reviews, book notes and other original
scientific papers that contribute to the advancement of Medieval English
Studies and Comparative Medieval Studies. The language of publication
is English, but submissions in other European languages (Spanish,
French, German or Italian) may also be considered. SELIM publishes as
a single yearly volume.
Originals submitted for possible publication will be subject to doubleblind peer reviewing, and should not have been sent to other journals
or means of publication. SELIM assumes that all authors hold the
intellectual copyright to their originals, and that other authors quoted as
“personal communication” sources also consent to being cited.
Contributions are to be sent to the journal editors ([email protected]), and
should follow these principles:
1.
Send your work on a machine-readable file via email, using a .doc
file. The file should include the author⒮’s name⒮, a contact address
& affiliation⒮. If using traditional mail, send your proposal to
the editors’ postal address. Authors will receive a confirmation of
reception and will be informed about the result of the process of
reviewing as soon as possible.
2.
Once your proposal has been accepted, a .pdf file or a printed highquality version of the contribution may be required by the editors.
3.
Although there is not an extension limit to the contributions, the
following recommendations may be taken into consideration: ± 8,000
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SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
words for articles; ± 3,000 words for longer notes and critical reviews,
and ± 1,500 words for shorter notes.
4.
Originals should include a ca. 100-word abstract in English and a
short list of keywords. The abstract or summary should explain
the purpose of the paper, method⒮, results and, if appropriate,
conclusions.
5.
Figures, tables, graphs, pictures and illustrations of any kind must
be properly titled and numbered, and preferably placed at the end of
the file. Scalable vector images and graphs are preferable over raster
ones; contact the secretary for advice. Their maximum size is 100mm
(width) × 160mm (height). The hardcopy version of the journal is
printed in black & white, but the electronic version admits colour.
6.
Text must be single-spaced, and a single space must be typed after
a period. Avoid blank carriage returns between paragraphs. Tabs
should be avoided at the beginning of a new paragraph: use first-line
indentation instead. Please avoid using tabs, return, and paragraph
special formats as much as possible. A style template is available upon
request.
7.
In-text quotations must be placed between double quotes (“ ”),
while single quotation marks (‘ ’) are used for nested quotations.
Punctuation should be included before the closing quotation mark
if it belongs to the quoted text, but after it otherwise. Quotations
longer than three lines should be accommodated as a separate
paragraph and left unmarked (i.e. no double quotes): left- and rightindentation should be used instead. Any modification of the original
quotation (for example, editorial (de)capitalization of the sentence)
must be signalled by square brackets; this includes discarded portions
of the original sentence, which are marked by the use of three dots
between square brackets ([…]).
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
364
8.
Footnotes should be consecutively numbered in the electronic file,
and placed at the foot, or at the end of the document if a printed
version is sent. Authors using non-standard word processors must
not use the automatic numbering for footnotes that their processors
may have, but instead write the footnote reference numbers between
brackets, f. i.: (13). Sources references must be kept within the main
text in abbreviated author-date form (f. i.: Lacarra ed. 1989: 3), while
footnotes should be reserved for further information, discussion, etc.
9.
Avoid using non-Laser fonts (Times-based serif fonts are
recommended, especially Peter S. Baker’s Junicode, available at http://
junicode.sourceforge.net). Please let the editors know which other
fonts might have been typed into the files.
10. References, alphabetically ordered, should follow the author-date
form and listed at the end of the original. No distinction should be
made between primary and secondary sources. If the same person was
author to more than one quoted contribution in the same year, they
will be distinguished by adding a letter after the publication year,
thus: Smith 2003a, 2003b, etc. If necessary or desired, the standard
ISO 3166-2 abbreviations can be added (in brackets, minus the twoletter country code) after the publication city, rather than the name
written in full: thus, “Cambridge (MA)” or “Woodbridge (SFK)”, not
“Cambridge, Massachusetts” or “Woodbridge, Suffolk”.
A collection of examples are provided below as guidelines to be
followed to reference the most frequent types of items.
Monographs
• Single author
Leigh, D. 1997: A Social History of English. London & New York,
Routledge.
• Multiple authors
Lass, R. & J. M. Anderson 2010 [1975]: Old English Phonology (Cambridge
Studies in Linguistics 14). 2nd ed. Cambridge, Cambridge
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SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
University Press.
In the case of volumes authored by more than three
people, only the first author is indicated, followed
by et al. in italics. The date of the first edition can
be given in square brackets, if desired (but not in
the in-text references). Series and series number,
whenever applicable, follow the title in brackets.
• Translated works
Foucault, M. 1998: The Will to Knowledge: The History of Sexuality,
Volume One [R. Hurley trans. 1976: Historie de la sexualité, tome
I: La volonté de savoir]. London, Penguin.
The name of the translator and the relevant data
of the original edition are given in square brackets.
• Multiple volumes
Bénédictins du Bouveret 1965–1982: Colophons des manuscrits occidentaux
des origines au XVIe siècle. 6 vols. Fribourg, Editions Universitaires.
In-text citations for these should state volume and
page/column whenever the numbering of the latter is
not consecutive over the volumes, thus: (Bénédictins
du Bouveret 1965–1982: III.75)
• (Pseudo-)Anonymous works, early books, & pamphlets
[Defoe, D.] 1702: The Shortest-Way with the Dissenters: or, Proposals for
the Establishment of the Church, with its Author’s Brief Explication
Consider’d, his Name Expos’d, his Practices Detected, and his
Hellish Designs Set in a True Light. London, [n. n.].
The Safest-Way with the Dissenters Being in Answer to a Late Book,
Entituled, The Shortest-Way with the Dissenters: or, Proposals for
the Establishment of the Church. 1703. London, [n. n.].
It is frequently the case with early books —and with
pamphlets in particular— that some bibliographic
information is missing altogether from the title- and
end-page. The abbreviations [n. d.] (no date), [n.
p.] (no place) and [n. n.] (no name) should be used
to indicate that the year of publication, the place
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
366
of publication, and/or the editor’s name were not
provided in the volume. If the identity of the author
of an item that was published anonymously is now
known, this should be indicated between brackets.
• Works written in lesser known languages/not in the Latin alphabet
Cartwright, J. 1999: Y Forwyn Fair, Santesau a Lleianod. Agweddau ar
Wyryfdod a Diweirdeb yng Nghymru’r Oesoedd Canol [The
Virgin Mary, Female Saints and Nuns. Attitudes on Virginity and
Purity in Wales during the Middle Ages]. Cardiff, University of
Wales Press.
Title capitalisation should follow the prevailing rules
in the original language of the item (this also applies
to English and the other European languages).
Since romanization policies can vary greatly (cf.
Chaikovsky, Tchaïkovski, Tschaikowski, Čajkovskij,
etc.), it is advisable to spell the title in the original
language, or else to follow the current ISO standard
for that particular writing system. Contact the
editors for advice. The place of publication should
be quoted under its usual English name whenever
there exists one and it is current; thus Athens is to
be preferred over Athina, Moscow over Moskva,
Cairo over al-Qahira, Bangkok over Krung Thep,
etc. Note yet that in cases like Benares, Madras,
Bombay or Peking, the normalised variants
Varanasi, Chennai, Mumbai and Beijing are
increasingly accepted in English. The ISO standard
must be followed for the author’s and editor’s names,
and for the publishing house.
Liberman, A. S. 1971: Исландская просодика. К фонологической
характеристике современного исландского языка и его
истории [Icelandic Prosody. A Phonological Characterization
of Modern Icelandic and its History]. Leningrad, Nauka.
The transliterated alternative to this example would
be:
Liberman, A. S. 1971: Islandskaâ prosodika. K fonologičeskoj harakteristike
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SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
sovremennogo islandskogo âzyka i ego istorii [Icelandic Prosody.
A Phonological Characterization of Modern Icelandic and its
History]. Leningrad, Nauka.
• Unpublished theses
Schofield, M. E. 1936: The Dicts and Sayings of the Philosophers: a
Middle English Version by Stephen Scrope. (Ph.D. dissertation).
Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania.
Edited books
Godden, M. ed. 1979: Ælfric’s Catholic Homilies (E.E.T.S. S.S. 5).
London, New York & Toronto, Oxford University Press.
Book sections
Richards, M. P. 1986: The Manuscript Contexts of the Old English Laws:
Tradition and Innovation. In P. E. Szarmach ed. Studies in
Earlier Old English Prose. Albany, State University New York
Press: 171–192.
Conference proceedings
Shaw, P., A. Bravo, S. González & F. García eds. 1989: Actas del Primer
Congreso Internacional de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y
Literatura Inglesa Medieval (SELIM) – Articles and Papers of the
First International Conference of the Spanish Society for English
Mediaeval Language and Literature (SELIM). Oviedo, Servicio
de Publicaciones de la Universidad de Oviedo.
Journal articles
Russell, P. E. 1961: Robert Payn and Juan de Cuenca, Translators of
Gower’s Confessio Amantis. Medium Ævum 30.1: 26–32.
de Chene, B. & S. R. Anderson 1979: Compensatory Lengthening.
Language 55.3: 505–535.
Reviews
Doyle, A. I. rev. 1998: Friedman, J. B. (1995) Northern English Books,
Owners, and Makers in the Late Middle Ages. In The Modern
Language Review 93: 171–172.
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368
Electronic resources & Audiovisual material
Voigts, L. E. & P. D. Kurtz 2000: Scientific and Medical Writings in Old
and Middle English: An Electronic Reference [CD-Rom]. Ann
Arbor, University of Michigan Press.
Eaton, T. 2001: The General Prologue – The Reeve’s Tale [Audio CD].
Wadhurst, Pavilion Records.
Harvey, A. dir. 2002 [1968]: The Lion in Winter [DVD]. Momentum.
Web sites/pages
Keynes, S. D. 2007/07/16 [2006/11/23]: SDK Homepage.
http://www.trin.cam.ac.uk/sdk13/sdk13home.html
11. Disclaimer: SELIM suggests that the principles stated above should
be carefully followed by contributors. The editors reserve the
right to emend and alter when thought necessary, but not without
consultation with the author⒮. Style, grammar, opinions, and
copyright permissions are the sole responsibility of the author⒮.
369
SELIM 20 (2013–2014)
SELIM
Journal of the Spanish Society for Mediaeval English Language and Literature
Revista de la Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
ISSN 1132-631X
Contributions sent via ordinary mail to the Assistant Editor at:
David Moreno Olalla
Departamento de Filología Inglesa, Francesa y Alemana
Facultad de Filosofía y Letras
Campus de Teatinos, s/n
Universidad de Málaga
E-29071 Málaga (Spain)
or (preferably) through the journal’s website (www.unioviedo.es/SELIM/revista/
index.html). Back numbers of the journal are also freely available there.
Sociedad Española de Lengua y Literatura Inglesa Medieval
Spanish Society for Medieval English Language and Literature
SELIM Executive Board – Junta Directiva de SELIM
2013
Presidenta – President
Trinidad Guzmán González (Universidad de León)
Secretario/Tesorero – Secretary/Treasurer
Javier Calle Martín (Universidad de Málaga)
Vocales – Board Members
Mercedes Salvador-Bello (Universidad de Sevilla)
Jorge Luis Bueno Alonso (Universidade de Vigo)
Alejandro Alcaraz Sintes (Universidad de Jaén)
Laura Esteban Segura (Universidad de Murcia)
2014
Presidente – President
Juan Camilo Conde Silvestre (Universidad de Murcia)
Secretario/Tesorero – Secretary/Treasurer
Javier Calle Martín (Universidad de Málaga)
Vocales – Board Members
Mercedes Salvador-Bello (Universidad de Sevilla)
Jorge Luis Bueno Alonso (Universidade de Vigo)
Ruth Carroll (Turun Yliopisto)
Laura Esteban Segura (Universidad de Murcia)