Part 12
Moreover, the king called also to mind what he had himself seen in his early days, before all the harryings and burnings of recent times: how the churches of England had been well stored with books, and the clergy were numerous, but they had profited little by the books, because they could not understand them, as they were not written in their own language. At this point his eloquence rises to a dramatic pitch, and “It is,” he breaks out, “as if they had said: ‘Our ancestors, who were the masters of these sacred places, they loved wisdom, and by means of it they acquired wealth and left it to us. Here may yet be seen their traces, but we are not able to walk in their steps, forasmuch as we have now lost both the wealth and the wisdom, because we were not willing to bend our minds to that pursuit.’” Remembering all this, he had marvelled very exceedingly at those good scholars who were once so frequent in England, men who had completely mastered the Latin books, that they had not been willing to translate any part of them into their own language. But he soon answered himself and said, that they never could have anticipated the present utter decay, and it was their very zeal for learning which caused them to abstain from translating, because they thought that the path of education and knowledge lay through the study of languages.
Then I remembered how the law of Moses was first known in Hebrew; and later, when the Greeks had learned it, they translated it into their own language, and all other books too. And later still the Latin people in the same manner, they by means of wise interpreters, translated all the books into their own speech. And so also did all the other Christian nations translate some portion of the books into their own speech.
Therefore to me it seemeth better, if it seemeth so to you, that we also some books, those that most needful are for all men to be acquainted with, that we turn those into the speech which we all can understand, and that ye do as we very easily may with God’s help, if we have the requisite peace, that all the youth which now is in England of free men, of those who have the means to be able to go in for it, be set to learning, while they are fit for no other business, until such time as they can thoroughly read English writing: afterwards further instruction may be given in the Latin language to such as are intended for a more advanced education, and are to be prepared for higher office. As I then reflected how the teaching of the Latin language had recently decayed throughout this people of the Angles, and yet many could read English writing, then began I among other various and manifold businesses of this kingdom to turn into English the book that is called _Pastoralis_ in Latin, and _Hierdebóc_ (Shepherding-Book) in English, sometimes word for word, sometimes sense for sense, just as I learned it of Plegmund my archbishop, and of Asser my bishop, and of Grimbald my priest, and of John my priest. After I had learned it so that I understood it and could render it with fullest meaning, I translated it into English; and to each see in my kingdom I will send one; and on each there is an “æstel” (ón ælcre bið án æstel), which is of the value of 50 mancuses. And I command in the name of God that no man remove the “æstel” from the book, nor the book from the minster. No one knows how long such learned bishops may be there, as now, thank God! there are in several places; and therefore I would that they (the books) should always be at the place; unless the bishop should wish to have it with him, or it should be anywhere on loan, or any one should be writing another copy.
It has never been satisfactorily decided what kind of object is meant by the “æstel” which accompanied every one of the presentation copies of the _Hierdebóc_. Dr. Sweet translates thus: “And on each there is a clasp worth fifty mancus. And I command in God’s name that no man take the clasp from the book, or the book from the minster.” Dr. Bosworth, in his Dictionary, explained æstel as a writing-tablet, and identified the word with “astula” in Du Cange. Now it is not easy to see the propriety of combining so personal a thing as a note-book with a volume designed for common use. Nor could such an object be a fixture upon the great book, which is what the king’s phrase (ón ælcre bið) seems to require. On the other hand, Dr. Sweet’s clasp is indeed a fixture, but of such a kind as to be a part of the book itself which could not be removed without wilful mutilation, and it does not appear that the king in his injunction is apprehensive of so flagrant an outrage as that.
My own impression is that the clue to the interpretation is furnished by a Glossary of the eleventh century, which gives “indicatorium” as the equivalent of æstel (Wright-Wülker, i. 327). I imagine a marker either of metal or of wood with metal fittings, so constructed as to be fixed upon the binding, and to bring a small plank across the page wherever desired. This would keep the parchment flat when apt to buckle, would mark the reader’s or transcriber’s place, and would minimise the risk of injury by fingering. It would be attached to one of the boards only in a movable way, perhaps with a screw, and consequently would require a strict and imperative rule to secure it from misplacement. The derivation might well be from “astula” (= assula).
This great epistolary Preface is followed by a second, of another theme and another type. The first is conceived in the statesmanlike spirit of a king who is meditating of civil order and education in a country that has almost lapsed into barbarism. The second is the utterance of the literary artist concerning the book he has translated, the author and his merits, and the weight of his authority, not disregarding the history and transmission of the very codex over which he has been at work. The first of these prefaces is in strong and ragged prose; the second is in heroic verse, which recalls the tradition that Alfred was fond of the old songs of his native land.
Þis ærendgewrit Agustinus ofer sealtne sæ suðan brohte ieg-buendum, swa hit ær fore adihtode drihtnes cempa Rome papa. Ryhtspell monig 5 Gregorius gleawmod gind wód ðurh sefan snythro searoðonca hord. Forðæm he monncynnes mæst gestriende rodra wearde, Romwara betest, monna módwelegost, mærðum gefrægost. 10
Siððan min on Englisc Ælfred kyning awende worda gehwelc, and me his writerum sende suð and norð; heht him swelcra má brengan bi ðære bisene, ðæt he his biscepum sendan meahte forðæm hi his sume ðorften, 15 ða ðe Lædenspræce læste cuðon.
I append an alliterative translation, which runs almost line for line:—
This epistle Augustine over salt sea brought from the south to us island-dwellers, just as it erst indited had been by Christ’s doughty soldier the Roman pontiff. Much right discourse 5. did Gregory of glowing wit give forth apace with skilful soul, a hoard of studious thought. He of mankind converted the most to the Ruler of heaven: he of Romans the best, of men the most learned and widest admired. 10. At length into English, Alfred the King wended[32] my every word: and me to his writers south and north sent out; more copies of such he bade them bring back, that he to his bishops might send, for some of them needed it, 15. those who with Latin speech had least acquaintance.
A few notes may be useful here. In the first line the expression “This epistle” applies to the entire work, because it is addressed by Gregory to John, Bishop of Ravenna, and opens with a dedication in epistolary form.
The poet has a warm feeling for the very manuscript he has been bending over, which he venerates as a sacred relic, because it was one of the books which were brought to this island by Augustine, Gregory’s chosen missionary.
In lines 8-10 is there not a reminiscence of the closing lines of the _Beowulf_?
At verse 11 there is an abrupt transition, and the after part is in an altered manner. The book itself becomes the speaker, and in the diction we recognise the manner of him who dictated to his goldsmith the now famous legend:
ÆLFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN.
In line 12 we should particularly note the assertion which is couched in the words “awende worda gehwelc,” a marked and idiomatic phrase which may be represented in Latin thus: “vertit verborum quodque,” _i.e._ translated every word. This does not point to any rule or restriction in the manner of rendering, as if the translator had tasked himself to a verbal fidelity, for in his first preface, speaking of this very work, he had plainly said that he had sometimes rendered word by word and sometimes sense for sense (hwilum word be worde, hwilum andgit of andgite). But what he meant to say was this, that whereas in his other translations he had used his originals as passive material to be wrought upon and converted as his own design and purpose guided him, he had treated Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_ as he would treat Scripture, wherein nothing could be added nor taken away.
To conclude the subject of Alfred’s Gregory’s _Pastoral Care_, let it be noted, that not only is it one of the books which are said to have been translated by the king, but the statement is made by himself speaking in the first person, and with a singular circumstantiality, and that besides this the book is distinguished by three peculiar incidents: (1) That the translation was entire; (2) that a copy of it was sent to every bishop; (3) that the king was pleased to celebrate the memorable history of the copy upon which he had worked.
As the chief of Alfred’s translations the _Hierdebóc_ has naturally taken up much of our space, and we must now be brief on the _Dialogues_. And indeed we have the less to say because the Alfredian version has not yet been edited.[33] It exists in three manuscripts of the eleventh century, one in the Cotton Library, and the other two at Oxford and Cambridge. This translation is reputed to have been made by Werferth, Bishop of Worcester, but the authority for this statement is late and of doubtful value. There is no mention of it in the preface, where the king speaks in the first person, and acknowledges the services of friends who had acted as transcribers. It runs thus:—
“I, Alfred, by the grace of Christ, dignified with the honour of royalty, have assuredly understood, and through the reading of holy books have often heard, that we to whom God hath given so much eminence of worldly distinction, have peculiar need at times to humble and subdue our minds to the divine and spiritual law, in the midst of this earthly anxiety; and I accordingly sought and requested of my trusty friends that they for me, out of pious books about the conversation and miracles of holy men, would transcribe the instruction that hereinafter followeth: that I, through the admonition and love being strengthened in my mind, may now and then contemplate the heavenly things in the midst of these earthly troubles.”
Such is the preface in the two manuscripts at Oxford and Cambridge; but in lieu of this the Cotton manuscript has a preface in high-pitched archaic and stilted prose wherein the book speaks and sets forth that it was transcribed by order of a Bishop Wulfstan from a copy that was given him by King Alfred, whose name is glorified with romantic superlatives of eulogy. This is poor apocryphal stuff, but yet as a glimpse at the posthumous cultus of Alfred’s fame it is interesting and even valuable.[34]
Bede’s _History_ was the most modern of the books on Alfred’s list. In this book the translator omitted considerable sections and added none. There is no contemporary record that the translator was King Alfred. The earliest extant statement of the kind is in Ælfric’s _Homily on St. Gregory’s Day_, where the preacher, referring to “Historia Anglorum,” as he calls it, adds, “which King Alfred translated out of Latin into English.” Though a hundred years later, this is nevertheless excellent testimony, and it has been supported both by later historians and until recently by modern critics.
But now the latest editor,[35] Mr. Thomas Miller, has pointed out some radical differences of dialect between the West Saxon of the _Cura Pastoralis_ and the English of this translation, which he locates in the northern part of Mercia. He is further guided by certain ecclesiastical considerations (especially the contents of the parts omitted) to select Litchfield as the spot where the translation was probably made. The evidence is too multifarious to be stated here, but it seems worthy to receive a searching examination and discussion.
So far we have treated of the more conspicuous and better-known of the king’s writings; we must now make mention of his minor works. In “The Shrine: a Collection of Occasional Papers on Dry Subjects,” which appeared at irregular intervals from 1864 to 1870, the Rev. Oswald Cockayne published for the first time two works which claim to rank among Alfredian literature. These he entitled, _King Ælfred’s Book of Martyrs_ and _Blooms by King Ælfred_.
The _Blooms_ are a translation or adaptation of Augustine’s Soliloquies and his Epistle to Paulina on the Vision of God, intermingled with extracts from the _City of God_ and from Gregory, and from Jerome, and withal many passages that appear to be original. The English of the book is a debased Saxon of the twelfth century. The title _Blooms_ is a translation of “blostman,” which is repeatedly used of the work in the Anglo-Saxon text. There is a preface, in which the work is spoken of under another figure—that of collecting material to build a house. At the close we read, “Here end the sayings which King Alfred collected.” Lappenberg classed the book (then unprinted) among the apocryphal works of the king, and Pauli thought that some compiler of the twelfth century had used the name of the king whose memory was still dear to the people. But in 1877 Professor Wülker took it up, and he soon changed the aspect of the case. He showed, in a highly convincing manner, that this book has an intimate relation with Alfred’s _Boethius_, that it carries on an argument which was broached there, and that the two books must be from the same hand. His inference is that it was done after the _Boethius_, and that it was (apparently) the latest work upon which the king was engaged. In 1894 the affinity between the two books was further confirmed by Mr. Frank G. Hubbard in _Modern Language Notes_. Specially convincing are two brief touches in chapter xvii., which echo the argument of the similarly numbered chapter in Alfred’s _Boethius_ which I have called an apology. The book is in an imperfect state.
[Illustration: THE SEASONS—OCTOBER TO DECEMBER
(_Cottonian Library_)]
The _Book of Martyrs_ is also imperfect, beginning at December 31 with St. Columba, and ending with St. Thomas, December 21. The first day of January is called “the eighth Yule day” (se eahteða geohhel dæg). There are four manuscripts of this book, and one of them, a fragment of two leaves, appears to be of Alfred’s time. Moreover, of the saints which are recorded none are later than the ninth century. Another argument is that under November 15 is given a Life of St. Milus, which must (says Cockayne) have been brought direct from Syria to England, and probably from Helias, the patriarch of Jerusalem, with whom Alfred had a correspondence, according to the nearly contemporary _Leech Book_. These evidences appear to Wülker to justify the conclusion of Cockayne, “that the Martyr Book here presented was at least in use in Ælfred’s time, and was probably then composed.”
We must now mention some titles of books imputed to the king. By the third generation after Alfred the tradition of his literary activity had already assumed mythical proportions. The Latin historian Æthelweard says that nobody knows how many volumes he produced (_volumina numero ignoto_). William of Malmesbury says that at the time of his death he was working at a translation of the Psalter. There is a poetical work of maxims and proverbs in which each of the detached sentences begins with “Thus said Alfred.” This book opens with an assembly of notables at Seaford, presided over by King Alfred, the Shepherd and Darling of England. These Proverbs of Alfred appear to be a composition of the twelfth century. Moreover, he is said to have translated into English the Fables of Æsop. He is also credited with a treatise on Falconry.
But if in one direction the tradition has reached a fabulous extreme, it is possible, on the other hand, that there may still remain something of his which has been overlooked or has not been adequately recognised. I allude to the Saxon Chronicle, about the king’s relation to which there is doubtless more to be said than has yet found a place in literature. To speak but of one section—I never can read the annals of 893-897 without seeming to hear the voice of King Alfred. Among the illuminations of the approaching anniversary, we may hope that a clearer light will be shed upon this interesting question.
The Will of Alfred is a very remarkable document, and opens to us more than might be expected of family arrangements as to property. That coupling of the names of Æþered and Ælfred which has such a singular and conspicuous appearance in the Chronicle receives some very practical illustration. There were at that time no professional men to make Wills, and we have no cause to doubt that the diction is Alfred’s, as it purports to be, being indited in the first person. There is much in this document to provoke inquiry and research, and it would probably repay the diligent student for a closer investigation than it has hitherto received.
In our time when books are freely produced in great abundance, it is hard to appreciate the power and originality of King Alfred’s work in the field of literature. When we look about for his motives we find such as these: need of occasional retirement and solace in the midst of harassing affairs, desire for personal improvement and edification, strong intellectual appetites, etc.—but all these controlled by one chief and dominant purpose, that of national education. Looking at the external aspect of the king’s situation we might have judged it sufficient for him at that time to concentrate his energies upon the restoration of material prosperity and the strengthening of the national armaments. That the prior necessity of these was not overlooked, we have ample proof in the subsequent progress of Wessex. But this did not satisfy the kingly ambition of Alfred; he craved for his people the higher benefits of political life, their moral and intellectual and spiritual development. Curiosity may well prick us to ask from what source far-reaching aims like these so suddenly burst into our history, and that, too, at a time of exhaustion at home and apprehension from abroad. If King Alfred saw a connection between general education and the acquisition of wealth (as there is some indication that he did), this may partly explain the energy of his educational policy, but we still desiderate something more. If we might assume that being under a strong sense of what he had himself gained by his early education, he desired to impart the like advantages to his people, then and only then the problem would find its appropriate and adequate solution.
The beginnings of modern education in the seventh century were quickened with the sense that something had been lost, and the whole movement was coloured with the sentiment of retrieval and recovery. Two great historical exhibitions of this effort are displayed in the Latin schools of Anglia and of Charlemagne, which are in fact but two parts of one movement, linked together by the name of Alcuin.
King Alfred’s educational revival is isolated from the preceding by the wars and desolations of the Wicingas, and it starts with a new basis in the installation of the mother tongue as the medium of elementary teaching. To this innovation it is due that we alone of all European nations have a fine vernacular literature in the ninth and tenth and eleventh centuries. And the domestic culture of that era, I take it, was the cause why the great French immigration which followed in the wake of the Norman Conquest did not finally swamp the English language.
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST
BY SIR FREDERICK POLLOCK
ENGLISH LAW BEFORE THE NORMAN CONQUEST[36]
At first sight Anglo-Saxon law may appear merely barbarous to the modern reader. In order to be just to it we must consider its surroundings.
Anglo-Saxon life was rough and crude as compared not only with any modern standard but with the amount of civilisation which survived, or had been recovered, on the Continent. There was very little foreign trade, not much internal traffic, nothing like industrial business of any kind on a large scale, and (it need hardly be said) no system of credit. Such conditions gave no room for refined legal science applied by elaborate legal machinery, such as those of the Roman Empire had been and those of modern England and the commonwealths that have sprung from her were to be. Such as the men were, such had to be the rules and methods whereby some kind of order was kept among them. Our ancestors before the Norman Conquest lived under a judicial system, if system it can be called, as rudimentary in substance as it was cumbrous in form. They sought justice, as a rule, at their primary local court, the court of the hundred, which met once a month, and for greater matters at a higher and more general court, the county court, which met only twice a year, except, perhaps, for merely formal business. We say purposely met rather than sat. The courts were open-air meetings of the freemen who were bound to attend them, the _suitors_ as they are called in the terms of Anglo-Norman and later medieval law; there was no class of professional lawyers; there were no judges in our sense of learned persons specially appointed to preside, expound the law, and cause justice to be done; the only learning available was that of the bishops, abbots, and other great ecclesiastics. This learning, indeed, was all the more available and influential because, before the Norman Conquest, there were no separate ecclesiastical courts in England. There were no clerks nor, apparently, any permanent officials of the popular courts; their judgments proceeded from the meeting itself, not from its presiding officer, and were regularly preserved only in the memory of the suitors. A modern student or man of business will at first sight wonder how this rude and scanty provision for judicial affairs can have sufficed even in the Dark Ages. But when we have reflected on the actual state of Anglo-Saxon society, we may be apt to think that at times the hundred and the county court found too little to do rather than too much. The materials for what we now call civil business practically did not exist.