|
^ |
■ -s -s
SPECIMENS
OP
(JBatlp (ZBngli0{) a^etrical Eomancesf,
CHIKFI-Y WRITTEN
DURING THE EARLY PART
OF
THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY ;
TO WHICH IS PREFIXED
AN HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION,
INTENDED TO ILLUSTRATE THE
RISE AND PROGRESS OF RO|jANTIC COMPOSITION
IN FRANCE AND ENGLAND.
BY GEORGE ELLIS, ESQ.
SECOND EDITION. IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. IIL LONDON:
PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND
BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
1811.
Edinburgh : Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.
THE LIEBARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORJilA
SANTA BAEBiUiA
CONTENTS
OF VOL. III.
IloMANCES OF OrIBNTAL OrIGIN.
Introduction to the Seven Wise Masters^ page 3 History of the Seven Wise Masters 23
Miscellaneous Romances.
Florice and Blauncheflonr 105
Robert ofCysille 148
Sir Isumhras 158
Sir Triamour 182
The Lyje of Ipomydon 215
Sir Eglamoiir of Artois ^QQ
Lay le Fraine 291
Sir Eger, Sir Grahame, and Sir Gray-steel 308
Sir Degore 358
Rosvoal and Lillian 382
Amys and Amylion , 396
lHomamejf of £)rienta( ;©«gui.
VOL. 111.
C 3 ]
INTRODUCTION
SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
The reader has seen, in the Appendix, No. I., to the General Introduction in the first volume, some account of a work written in the beginning of the twelfth century, by Petrus Alphonsus, to whom the French minstrels, the early Italian no- velists, and the author of Gesta Ilomanorum, were indebted for a variety of stories translated by him from the Arabic, and perhaps originally fur- nished to the Arabians themselves by some of their eastern neighbours. Anotherwork, which ouran- cestors unquestionably borrowed from the East, and which, passing in succession through almost all the languages of Asia and Europe, preserved, under every change, the same degree of popu- larity which it had acquired in its native idiom, is the collection of fables vulgarly attributed to
4- INTRODUCTION TO
Pilpay or Bidpai. These, indeed, as far as I know, were never translated in their original state by our English minstrels : but there is a third work, equally of oriental origin, and of not less celebrity than either of the foregoing, which has furnished us with an English metrical romance, named in the Cotton MS. *' The Proces of the Sevyn Sages," or, to use the more familiar and popular title of the prose transla- tion, " The Seven Wise Masters ;" and it may be reasonably expected that the analysis of this romance should be preceded by a history of the different forms under which it has been succes- sively exhibited.
This, however, is a matter of extreme intri- cacy, and which has never been completely in- vestigated, excepting by Mr Douce, who, by pursuing the hints thrown out by Mr Tyrwhitt, Mr Warton, &c., has traced a great part of the materials employed by our early fabulists to their remotest sources, and to whose notes I have been obliged for all the information which I can venture to offer on this obscure and diffi- cult subject.
There is good reason to believe that the pro- totype of this romance was " The Book of the Seven Counsellors, or Parables of Sendebar
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 5
or Sandabar," an Indian philosopher, who is stated by Ismael Sciah-hinsciah, an Arabian compiler of a chronicle from Adam to the year of the Hegira, 487 (A. D. 1094,) to havehved about 100 years before the Christian sera.* He is sometimes called chief of the sages of India. These parables have been printed in Hebrew- only, under the title of Mischle Sandabar, first at Constantinople, 1517, and afterwards at Ve- nice, 1544- and 1608, at the end of another Hebrew work, intitled Divre Hajamim Schel Mosche ; i. e. " The Words of the Days of Moses." f There is a MS. of them in the Bri- tish Museum, among the Harleian MSS. No. 5449, written in a very bad hand. It has an anonymous Latin note, the substance of which is, that it had been translated out of the Indian language into Persian and Arabic, and from thence into Hebrew, by Rabbi Joel. The La- tin title is, " Historia de Rege et Filiis ejus ex Orient. India. Nomen ejus fuit Biebar." The word in Italics is written in a different hand, as
• Assemanni Catal. CocL MS. Orient. Biblioth. Medic. Laurent, et Palat. p. 141.
t Groddeck Descr. Rabbinic, apud Placcii- Theatruni anonym, et pseudonym. Hainburgi 1708. p. 688 ; et Woi- Si Bibl. Hebraic, i. 931.
b INTRODUCTION TO
is also the following note at the bottom of the page: " Historiola de Biebar Rege Indorum Orientalium et Filiis ejus." At the end of the MS., which consists of 56 leaves in small quar- to, on a flying leaf, the contents of the work are again described in these words : " In hac scilicet His/oriola seu Fabula agitur de callidi- tate foeminaruni, et quomodo earum prudcntia filius regis India? nomine Baiber a morte sit li- beratus. Sandabar iste erat princeps sapientum Brachmanorum Indite, et magnam habet par- tem in tota hac historia. In fine hbri dicitur Sandabar obiisse annos natus 130." The word earum is evidently a mistake, and perhaps co- pied from Wolfius, who (Bibl. Hebr. i. 931) gives a similar description of the work ; whilst Groddeck, who has also given an account of it, seems to ascribe the wisdom and prudence to Sandabar.
As we have no rational ground for hoping that the Indian original, if it ever existed, will again be brouffht to licht, it is much to be wished that we could obtain a literal version of this ancient copy, which is likely to be of little interest to the Hebrew scholar, but would be very valuable to the literary antiquary, and perhaps not un- amusing to the general reader. Indeed, it seems
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. i
to be owing to a sort of fatality that we do not already possess such a translation, because it ap- pears, by the Latin documents accompanying the Harleian MS. already mentioned, that Gil- bert Gaulmin, professor of the Hebrew lan- guage at Paris, actually completed the work, which he illustrated with notes, and intended for publication, but never fulfilled his intention. After his death, the learned Groddeck, profes- sor of oriental languages at Leipsig, entered into the same engagement. It is also supposed that a Latin version by Wagenseil exists in MS. in the Senatorial library at Leipsig ; * besides which, James Bdnaventura Hepburn, a Scotch- man, of the order of Minims, a great traveller and learned Hebraist, and overseer of the orien- tal books in the Vatican, is said to have trans- lated into Latin the Parables of Sandabar, with the Gests of the Seven Wise Men. f In the mean time, the reader will have perceived that the foregoing documents ai*e not even suificient to explain to us whether Sandubar was the au- thor of the book to which he has given his name, or only the essential character in the
• WolfiiBibl. Hebr. i. 931.
t Demster Hi?t. Eccles. Gent. Scot p. 334, and Mac- kenzie's Scotish Writers, iii. 516.
8 INTRODUCTION TO
piece. Neither do we know any thing satisfac- tory concerning Rabbi Joel, nor even the time in which he lived, though there are reasons for supposing that he must have written as early as the middle of the 1 4 th century.
After the Hebrew version of the Parables, the next in point of antiquity which occurs is in the Greek lanijuafjc, and known to the learned under tlie name of Syntipas. Of this many MSS. are extant, but it is not easy to ascertain from what original it was immediately borrow- ed. A MS. cited by Du Cange professes to be translated from the Syriac ; * as does a second imperfect one, procured by the celebrated Bus- bequius from Constantinople, and now in the imperial library at Vienna j f and a third, said to exist at Moscow, and to have been written before the 14th century. On the other hand, a copy in the British Museum professes to have been translated from the Persic so late as 1667. :j: Monsieur Dacier has written an express disser- tation on the Syntipas, of which he found a MS. of the 16th century, written on paper, in
* Dufresne Gloss, med. et infim. Gncc. Ind. Aiictor. p. 73. t Ness. Catal. Bibl. Caes. Vindob. par. v. 171. t Had. MSS. No. 5560.
3
tHE SEVEN M^SE MASTERS. 9
the French National Library, No. 2912. This pretends to be a literal version from the Syriac. It has an argument by the translator, followed by a short advertisement, stating that the same history had been written in Persic by one Musus, or Moses. The outline of the story, as given by M. Pacier, is as follows :
Cyrus has seven wives, but no children. At length, after putting up prayers to Heaven, he has a son, who is placed in the hands of a tu- tor : but the young prince, after a period of three years, deriving no benefit from his in- structions, is committed to the charge of the philosopher Syntipas, who engages to complete his education, and return him to his parents at the end of six months and as many days. He is conducted to a house, on the walls of which his master had caused the planets, the history of the world, &c., to be painted for his instruc- tion, and here becomes, within the stipulated time, so accomplished as to surpass his tutor's expectations. Syntipas, before he decides on reconducting the prince to his father, consults the stars concerning his destiny, and finds that his life will be in great jeopardy, unless he can preserve, during seven days, a strict silence ; which the prince undertakes to do. Syntipas
10 INTRODUCTION TO
resolves to conceal himself, in the mean time, in order to avoid the natural resentment of the king on finding his son mute. Cyrus is, in fact, greatly enraged, and, being persuaded by his courtiers that Syntipas has given his son some medicine which has deprived him of speech, searches in vain for the philosopher. At length one of the king's wives undertakes to disco- ver the cause of the prince's silence, and, in a private interview with him, attempts to seduce him to her embraces, offering to place him on the throne by putting his father to death, on condition of his taking her to his bed. The prince, struck with horror at this atrocious pro- posal, and unable to preserve silence, replies, " Know, wicked woman, that I am for the pre* sent prohibited from answering you *, but, at the end of seven days" — and then becomes mute as before. The disappointed woman, in revenge, accuses him of having attempted her chastity, and he is condemned to die. The king, how- ever, has seven philosophers, ^lio, suspecting the falsehood of the charge, engage to employ a day each in endeavouring to dissuade the king from executing the sentence. This leads, of course, to the stories, each philosopher relating two, and the princess replying with as many.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 1 1
The seventh day at length arrives, and the prince, breaking silence, relates the cause of it, and exposes the wickedness of his accuser. Cyrus now propounds as a question to the philosophers, "Whether, if he had put his son to death, the prince, or the lady, or himself, would have been guilty of a crime ? He is not satisfied with their opinion, and the question is at last resolved by the prince himself, in an apologue, to which he adds two other whimsical stories, of which, says M. Dacier, it is difficult to comprehend the moral. The lady is th6n ordered into court; and having confessed her guilt, the king inquires of the philosophers what punishment shedeserves. Very cruel tortures are proposed. She relates a story to prove that it is better to survive, even in a mutilated state, than to die. The prince then suggests, as a punishment better suited to the offence, that she should have her head shaved, and be publicly led through the city on an ass ; and this sentence is immediately carried into execution. Cyrus, enchanted with his son's wisdom, demands of Syntipas how it happened that he had acquired so much knowledge in so short a time. He ascribes it to the influence of the star under which he was born, and tells a story to shew that all education is useless where
12 INTRODUCTION TO
a malignant planet has presided at tlie child's nativity. This is the last story ; and is followed by many moral questions put by the king to his son, who resolves them.
The next appearance of the Parables was in Latin. This is said to have been written by Jean de Hauteselve, or Altavilla, in Lorraine. Whether any copy of it be now existing is a matter of great uncertainty. Even its title is unknown ; nor should we perhaps have ever heard of it, but for its translation into French verse, when it assu- med the strange denomination of Dolopatos.
This singular work was first brought to hght by Fauchet, who, in his account of the early French poets, ascribes it to one Hcbers or Her- bers, an ecclesiastic, whom he rightly supposes to have hved under the reign of Louis VIIL, who died in 1226.* M. Dacier says that He- bers' translation is only known from fragments in Fauchet, and in Du Verdier, who copies Fauchet, and in a collection called " Le Conser- vateur" for Jan. 1760 ; the latter of which had been supplied from a MS. in the Sorbonnc, which has since been sought for in vain.f He does not appear to have seen any MS- of it ; for
* (Eiivres de Fauchet, f«. 560, verso, edit. 1610, 4to. ■\ Mem. de I'Acad. des Inscr. xii. p. 557.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 13
which reason it may be of use to point out one which has lately, at the request of Mr Douce, been inspected by his friend the Abbe de la Rue, a gentleman well known to the English reader by his valuable essays on the early French poets, in the 12th, 13th, and 14th volumes of the Ar- chaeologia. This MS. is in the National Library at Paris, is numbered 7535, and was written in the 13th century. It contains about 9000 verses. At the beginning are these lines,
Un blanc moine de bele vie, De Halteselve I'Abeie, A ceste histoire novelee ; Par bel Latin 1' a ordenee, Herbers le velt en romans traire.
Si com Dans Jehans nous devise, Qui en Latin I'istoire mist, Et Herbers qui le romans fist : Del Latin en romans le traist, Ce fu il tens que la flors naist.
The history takes place under the reign of Augustus Caesar. Dolospatos, king of Sicily, is the father of the young prince, who is called Lucinien. Virgil is his tutor.
li INTRODUCTION TO
All tens qu' Augustus tenoit Rome, Qui sires fu dc tant prodome, Fu nes un rois, molt noble horn, Qui Dolospatos avoit nom. Sages hom ert, ct de grant los ; Por ce, ot nom Dolopatos.
Although several of the stories in this work are extremely licentious, Hebers has not scru}>- led to commit it to the care of a dignified eccle- siastic.
Hebers define ici son livre ; A I'evesque de Meaux le livre, Qui Diex doint honor en sa vie.*
It has already been observed, that it is not cer- tain whether any copy of Hauteselve's Latin work be now remaininc:. There is indeed a book entitled ** Historia Calumnicc Noverca/is quiv Scp- tem Sapientum inscribitur (sive Historia Hera- cliti, autore D. Joanne Monacho AbbatiiE vulgo dictae Hauteselve seu Hauteseille,") printed at Antwerp by Gerard Lccii, 1490, quarto. On this title, which is copied from the catalogue of the printed books in the king of France's libra- * GDuvres de Fauchct, fo. 561.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. Ij
ry, \o\. ii. p. 4. M. Dacier remarks, that the words in the parenthesis are not in the book it- self j and that the editor, in a short preface, de- clares the title to be of his own invention, and that he has assumed the liberty of changing the names of the characters and correcting the style. The book is extremely rare ; but Mr Douce was convinced by a fragment of it which he inspect- ed, that it was not Hauteselve's work, but sub- stantially a different Latin history of the Seven Wise Men, which will be mentioned presently, newly written and arranged.
The next work to be noticed is one of which no account whatever has hitherto been given, though it will be found to merit some attention. It is a MS. of the 13th century, in the French National Library, numbered 7595, in French verse, but by an anonymous author. There is no mention in any part of it either of Haute- selve or of Herbers, and its bulk is not equal to more than one third of the Dolopatos. The em- peror is Vespasian, son of Mathusalem, and the wise men are Bacillas, Lentulus, Cato, Malqui- das, Jesse, Damnas, and Birons. Mr Douce be- lieves, Avith great appearance of probability, that this work was the immediate original which gave rise to the many subsequent imitations in French
16 INTRODUCTION TO
prose, and of which our English metrical ro- mance is a translation.
This poem, in lines of eight syllables, is to be found entire in the MSS. of the Cotton library (Galba. E. 9.), where it is entitled " The Pro- ces of the Sevyn Sages." Mr Douce had con- jectured that it was composed about the end of the 14th century; but there is in the Auchin- leck MS. a large fragment of it, consisting of 2630 lines; and, as its composition must have preceded the transcription, and the age of the MS. itself has been ascertained with some accu- racy, we cannot assign to the poem a later date than 1330.
Soon after the invention of printing, the La- tin " Historia Septcm Sapientum" appeared in Germany, and there were many editions of it without date, place, or printer's name. The earliest, perhaps, which occurs with a date, was printed at Cologne by John HoelholT, in 1490, quarto, with cuts. Translations of it soon ap- peared in the German, Dutch, Italian, French, Spanish, and English languages. This is our *' Seven Wise MasterSy" so truly delectable, till lately, to every school-boy, the first edition of which was printed by W. Copland, without date, but between 1548 and 1567. It was also trans-
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 17
lated into Scotish metre by John Rolland, in Dalkeith, " at the request of his Ant Cait (Aunt Kate) in Tanstelloun Castle, during the siege of Leith, 1560," and printed at Edinburgh in 1578, 1592, and 1631, octavo.
The last European imitation of the JBooA; of the Seven Counsellors to be mentioned, belongs to the Italians, and was first printed at Mantua, 1546, duodecimo, under the title of " Erasto, doppo moki secoli ritornato al fine in luce, e con somma diligenza dal Greco fedelmente tradotto in Italiano." This was soon translated into French, and with the title of " Histoire pitoy- able du Prince Erastus, Fils de Diocletien, nou- vellement traduite de I'ltalien en Fran9ois," printed at Lyons by Gabriel Colier, 1565, oc- tavo. Francis Kirkman, well known by his nu- merous translations of romances into English, printed in 1674, octavo, a version of it under the title of '* History of Prince Erastus, son to the emperor Diocletian, and those famous phi- losophers called the The Seven Wise Masters of Rome." He translated from the French Erastus, and says that he had compared it with the Italian original, and added all that had been written in English, meaning The Seven Wise Masters ; but his assertion is not strictly true ; VOL. in. B
18 INTRODUCTION TO
as he has omitted two or three stories which are contained in the latter work. He tells us, in his preface, that the book of The Seven Wise Mas- ters is in such estimation in Ireland, that it was always put into the hands of young children im- mediately after the horn-book- In les*, another edition of Erastus was pubUshed by some person who has made use of Kirkman's work. This last is, however, a wretched abridgment.
It may be worth while to mention, that the Italian writer of Erasto, if he really did consult a MS. of the Greek Syntipas, has taken so many liberties with it that his work by no moans de- serves the name of a translation. His introduc- tion is considerably more diffuse than the Greek, and has many new incidents. The prince is com- mitted to the care of seven philosophers, and not to one tutor. The name of Erastus, as well as those of the wise men, is apparently invented for the sole purpose of colouring the assertion in the title and preface. The stories amount only to half the number of those in the Syntipas, in which circumstance it agrees with the Latin His- toria Septem Sapientum; and from this it is most probably imitated.
We have thus traced our oxiginal. The Para- bles of Sandabar, through all its transmigrations
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 1 9
in the European languages ; but, if the reader's patience be not quite exhausted, it will now be proper to return upon our steps, for the pur- pose of noticing some circumstances which have tended not a little to embarrass and mislead the researches of many even diligent inquirers into the subject.
Towards the close of the 15th century, there issued from the press of some unknown German printer a singularl}^ curious book, intitled " Di- rectorium Humanae Vitae ; alias, Parabole An- tiquorum Sapientum," the prologue to which informs us that it was called '* Liber Belile et Dimne ;" that it originally appeared in the In- dian language, and was successively translated into Persian, Arabic, Hebrew, and lastly into Latin. The Latin translator was John of Capua, who lived about 1260 ; and althougU he has not expressly mentioned from what language he translated, there is internal evidence to warrant the presumption that he used a Hebrew copy. In this woi'k Sandabar is named as the Indian philosopher, who composed it at the instance of a king of India ; and Rabbi Joel is generally re- garded as the author of the Hebrew version, from which the Latin is supposed to have been
20 INTRODUCTION TO
taken. This odd coincidence would naturally lead to a supposition that the " Directorium" was taken from the " Mischle Sandabar;" yet it is in fact nothing more than an altered trans- lation of a work long since known to the learned by the name of Calilah u Damnah, and to the world in general by the title of Pilpay's Fables, the Indian original of which is the Heetopades of Veeshnoo Sarma.
It is not easy to ascertain by what means the name of Sandabar made its way into the Latin *' Directorium." It certainly is not in the Hee- topades, where the name of the sage who relates the stories is Veeshnoo Sarma ; neither is it from the other oriental versions of the same work, because in the Persian and Turkish copies the philosopher is called Bidpay ; and in the Arabic, or at least in the Greek version from the Ara- bic, made by Simeon Seth, and printed, with a Latin translation, by Starkins in 1697, he is not named at all. Neither does there seem to be any positive authority for ascribing a Hebrew trans- lation of this work to Rabbi Joel, excepting that of Doni, the reputed author of an Italian ver- sion, or rather imitation of the Directorium, who seems to have first introduced the name of Joel,
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 21
inferring, perhaps, that he must have translated this work, as well as the Mischle, as being also composed by Sandabar.
Another som'ce of confusion and perplexity arises from the perverse disposition of all the translators or imitators of the *' Book of the Seven Counsellors" to alter and disfigure, though perhaps with the hope of improving, their im- mediate original. The several copies therefore are so much unlike, that only one story in the modern Erastus agrees with the Greek Syntipas, and this is also to be found in the Calilah u Damnah. (See Tyrwhitt, vol. ii. p. 492. 4to. edit.) Some stories in the Dolopatas are com- mon to the Fables of Alfonsus, who, on the other hand, has one tale which is also in the Syntipas. It is not, therefore, a mere similarity in some of the materials which will enable us to trace the successive imitations of the oriental fabulists to their original prototype ; we are forced to ex- amine the general design and outline of the work ; and, after having done so, it will but too frequently happen that the patient labour of the antiquary is productive of httle amusement to the reader.
It only remains to be stated, that the follow- ing abstract is generally taken from the frag-
22 INTRODUCTION TO THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
mcnt in the Auchiiileck MS., as being the most ancient copy now kilown to exist, and that the conckision has been made up from the MS. in the Cotton hbrary ah-eady mentioned. The lat- ter is certainly more modern, by at least half a century, than the Auchinleck fragment, and is written in the Scotish dialect.
C 23 3
SEVEN WISE MASTERS,
JjioCLETiAN, emperor of Rome, had a son named Florentin, who, after the death of his mother, engrossed his father's whole affection. For the purpose of giving a suitable education to this darling son, the emperor convened all the wisest and most learned men in the emj)ire, from whom he selected seven masters, each of whom was directed to instruct the youth in one of the seven hberal arts. The sages accepted the honourable task with gratitude ; and having first retired with their pupil to the Consistory, which, says our author, was a place in Rome where ** men makes wisdom," they decided that it would be necessary to remove the youth from the enticements of the metropolis, and to erect a building, for the better prosecution of his stu- dies, at some distance from the city. The spot >elected for the purpose was a spacious Verger
24< THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
(orchard) on the banks of the Tiber, ah'eady planted with all sorts of fruit-trees. In its centre they built an edifice, consisting of seven cham- bers, encompassing a vast square hall, on the walls of which were painted the three parts of Donetf* and the seven arts, viz., grammar, mu- sic, astronomy, geometry, arithmetic, rhetoric, and physic. Here the young man, occupied only with his studies, and constantly transferred from one master to another, made a most rapid progress. In the fourth year of his education he began to dispute on logical questions ; in the fifth year he was able " to argument of the stars and of the firmament j" and before the end of the sixth year he evinced a degree of acuteness which, not without reason, was considered by the wise men as truly miraculous.
With a view to ascertain the degree of his ad- vancement in general science, they one night se- cretly placed under each of the four posts of his bed, four ivy-leaves, and, having performed the experiment, retired without wakening him. In the morning, when they attended him as usual, he no sooner opened his eyes than he began to survey the whole room with evident signs of as-
* The works of Donatiis the "rainmaiian.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 25
tonisliment, and on their inquiring into the cause othis sui'prise,
*' Par fay !" he said, " aferii * cas ! " Other -f ich am of wine drunk, *' Other the firmament is sunk, '* Other wexewl is the ground, " The thickness of four leaves round f " So much, to-night, higher I lay, *' Certes, than yesterday."
The reader will readily believe, that before the expiration of his seven years' study, this pro- digy of attention had acquired all the science of his Seven Wise Masters.
Diocletian, perfectly happy in such a son, had hitherto borne without repining the solitude of widowhood ; but his counsellors now urged him to marry again, and proposed to him a young princess of such exquisite beauty that the old monarch became violently enamoured of her, and soon appeared to forget, in her company, every other object of his aifection. So complete- ly were the perfections of Florentin obliterated from his memory, that he did not even mention his name to the empress: but, as every other
* AVonderful. + Eitlier. t Or grown is the earth.
26 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
tongue was employed in his praise, she natural- ly became anxious to behold this paragon, and had no difficulty in persuading the emperor to summon him to court.
The Seven Masters were " disputing in their Latin" with their young pupil when they recei- ved the visit of the nobles appointed to signify the emperor's intention, and to attend the young prince during his solemn entry into Rome: and as the preparations for such a ceremony could not be suddenly completed, the imperial messen- gers weie detained to dinner, and amused by the tales of minstrels j after which the Seven Wise Men prepared to consult the stars, as a neces- sary preliminary to the important expedition of the following day. Caton, the most expert of the seven, took a very deliberate survey of the moon, and discovered, from some untoward ap- pearances on the face of that planet, that the first moment when the young prince, after his arrival at court, should open his lips, would prove fatal to him, and, very possibly, to all his instructors. This dreadful prophecy filled the whole company with consternation ; but, though Caton could not be susjiected of falsifying or mis- understanding the moon's testimony, FJorentin chose to examine the heavens in liis turn ; and
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 27
having critically observed the aspect of a star al- most in contact with the moon's limb, predicted from it, that if he could preserve his life during seven days, and pass that time without speaking, the danger which menaced him would be pass- ed, and ho might expect many years of security and happiness.
This second prediction having been duly ex- amined, and found conformable to all the rules of astrology, the Seven Wise Masters took comfort ; and, as their pupil observed to them, that it would be most extraordinary if eacli of them were iiot able to save his life during a sin- gle day, they prepared to encounter the ap- proaching danger with serenity; returned to their guests; and next day accompanied them to court, where Florentin was received by his father with every mark of affection. Diocle- tian, drowned in tears of joy, was himself un- able to speak, and consequently did not remark the silence of the youth, who expressed also by his tears and embraces the sincerity of his filial duty; besides which, their interview was only momentary, as the empress, on hearing of Flo- rentin's arrival, immediately requested his at- tendance in her own apartment*
28 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
Of tlie mental perfections of her son-in-law she had heard so much, that her curiosity was completely satisfied, but of his person she knew nothing ; and tliis produced, at first sight, so deep an impression on her mind, that, not be- ing in the habit of curbing her passions, she immediately ordered her attendants out of the room, and proceeded, without reserve, to com- municate to the astonished Fiorentin the feelings which he had awakened, and the facilities which her marriage with his father might afford for their gratification. Her eloquence on this to- pic was so rapid and abundant, that it was long before she gave the prince an opportunity of making any reply, but at length she naturally began to expect an answer, and was not a little astonished at his invincible silence. Siie flatter- ed herself with the hope that this might arise fj'om mere bashfulness and timidity, and pro- ceeded to try every mode of encouragement •, but her silent companion recoiled from her touch with such signs of horror, that she could not long doubt of his contempt and aversion.
Then the empres^s wcx wroth ; She tare her hair and her clotli.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 29
Her kirtel, her pilche* of ermine, Her kercheifs of silk, her smock of Une, All together, with both fist, She to-rent beneathen her breast. With both honden her yellow hair Out of the tresses she it tare ; And she to-scratched her visage. And graddej- "harow" with great rage. In hall was the emperour. *' \\Tio hath thee done this dishonour ?" " Bot X this devil that here is ? " Had me * near y-honisht§ i-wis !*'
She then proceeded to state, that the marks of violence about her person were the effects of his brutal rage, and loudly demanded the instant death of the ravisher.
As the youth and beauty of the empress gave some degree of probability to this horrible ac- cusation, and the supposed culprit continued obstinately silent, the indignant emperor imme- diately gave orders that his unnatural son should be stripped and scourged, and afterwards hanged : but no sooner were these orders made public,
* A furred dress ; pellisse, Fr. toga pellicea.
t Cried. X Who but ? S Brought to shame, Fr.
30 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
than the lords who were then in the pahace in- terposed to prevent their execution, and obtain- ed from the reluctant Diocletian a promise that the heir of the empire should be exempted from this ignominious punishment, until he should have been tried before an assembly of the nobles. The court was therefore summoned for the suc- ceeding day ; and the prince, in the mean time, was ordered into close confinement.
This delay was by no means pleasing to the empress. The dumb man might change his mind, and speak in his turn ; and his assevera- tions were more likely than her own to be cre- dited by his judges, amongst whom his rank and his virtues had procured him many parti- sans. It would save her much trouble if she could persuade the emperor to act from himself; and for this purpose, when he came to bed at night, she told him the story of
" 'FHE PINNOTE-TREE AND ITS IMP."
There was once at Rome a burgess, who, having enriched himself by traffic, purchased a handsome house with a fair garden adjoining,
Full of apple-trees and of perry,
Fowles sung therin merry. }
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. SI
Amidelward* that garden free, So wox a pinnote f tree, That had faire boughs and fruit, There-under was all his dedut.\ He made there-under a green bench, And drank there-under many a skench. § Certes, therein was all his playing, In time of solace and his resting.
As the whole sphere of the burgess's observa- tion was confined within this single arbour, he could not fail of discovering a small imp (sucker) which was at length put out from the root. He watched this imp with daily attention j but as its growth was much slower than he wished, he called his gardener, and inquired why the imp did not grow faster ? The man replied, that, being overshadowed by a large branch of the parent tree, it did not obtain its due share of hght and moisture. The burgess now ordered the branch to be cut away ; and the sucker ha- ving I'apidly increased after this experiment, a second and a third branch, which interfered with its progress, were successively sacrificed to
* In the middle of. + " The name of a Red-
stocked and round-leafed vine." — Cotgrave. * Pleasure. § Draught.
32 THE SEVEIv- WISE MASTERS.
it, until its luxuriance and the abundance of its foliage formed a striking contrast to the naked and unsightly appearance of its once flourishing parent. At length the burgess became disgust- ed with his original favourite, and caused it to be cut down, lest the small quantity of nourish- ment which it still continued to derive from the soil should in future impoverish its rival. * ' Such , sir,*' said the empress, " will shortly be your fate. You are the old tree, and Florentin is the imp, which, long fostered under your shade, now grows with luxuriance, and only wants room for more expansion. He has once set you at defiance, and lives to glory in his crime. Vengeance, perhaps, is still in your power, but, if deferred, the means of inflicting it will be lost, and you will be shoved from the throne to make room for the more powerful Florentin.'* Diocletian loved a stoi'y to his heart j and though, during its recital, incapable of discerning its ap- plication, was mai'vellously struck when this ap- plication was explained to him. He had been long accustomed to reign, and was fit lor little else ; so that, being now induced to consider his son as a rival, he determined most firmly to or- der his immediate death, and flattered himself that the justice of the action would be applaud-
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 33
ed by all who should hear the storj'^ of the Pin~ note-tree and of its Imp.
The hall was already filled with barons and with persons of all ranks, when the emperor took his seat, and repeated his orders of the pre- ceding day. The prince was taken out of pri- son, led naked through the hall, and conveyed towards the place of execution, amidst the uni- versal murmurs of the senate and people ; but the youth himself continued obstinately silent, and no one appeared to plead his cause, till the philosopher Bancillas, making his way through the assembly, and approaching the throne, be- gan to remonstrate with the emperor on his in- justice and cruelty. Diocletian was at this time very much out of humour, and answered the polite salutation of the Wise Master, *' Deu vous doint hon jour,^ by imprecating all sorts of curses upon his head, and on those of his six companions, who, being selected to educate the heir of the empire, had taken from him the use of his tongue, and bestowed on him, in re- turn, a most ungovernable, propensity to rape and incest. Bancillas, in reply, asserted Flo- rentin's innocence ; earnestly conjured the em- peror to disbelieve the testimony of a step-mo- ther, and finally assured him, that, should he
VOL. III. c
34- THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
sacrifice his son, he would be tortured by una- vailing remorse, as was the knight for the loss of his good grey-hound. At these words, the emperor eagerly requested to hear the story; but the stubborn philosopher refused to relate one word until he should have obtained a day's respite for the prince, which being reluctantly granted, he proceeded with his narrative.
THE KNIGHT AND HIS GREY-HOUND.
Sire, there was formerly celebrated in this city, on the day of the holy Trinity, a magnifi- cent tournament ; and the lists, which attracted from all quarters a crowd of noble competitors, were erected in a pleasant and spacious meadow at no great distance. In this meadow the knight, whose adventure I am about to relate, had an old manor house, surrounded on all sides by a river.
Of chambers, and of high hall. Of old w ork ffor-crased* all.
He had also a beautiful wife, an infant child whom he idolized, and a grey-hound, whose sagacity and courage were unparalleled. The ♦ Cracked, crazy.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 35
child was attended by three nurses, the first of whom was employed to suckle him, whilst the other two were ordered to relieve each other in watching him, whether sleeping or waking, with constant assiduity.
On the occasion of this tournament,
The knight was lopen on his steed,
And armed well in iron weed ;
The shield abouthisneck, thespearinhishond.
And burdised* with the knightes of the lond.
The lady took her place among the beauties who were invited to behold the feats of arms ; and, as the manor-house was so near as to afford a tolerable view of the amusement, all the ser- vants, and even the three nurses, were eager to gratify their curiosity, and the child was left in its cradle, close to the wall of the house, which, as we have seen, was cracked through in many places.
In one of these crevices was lodged a huge adder, which, being disturbed by the unusual shouts of the servants, excited by the various exploits at the tournament, put out its head, and at length, creeping from its hole, advanced towards the cradle.
♦ Played or justed with.
36 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
The grey-hound seeth the adder red^
Grislich, rough, strong, and qutd^ *
Anon he gan her assail,
And hent f her in his mouth sans fail.
The adder so tlie grey-hound stang,
And he feeled the bite so Strang,
Anon he let the adder gon :
Upon the cradle she flew anon,
And was about the child to sting.
And the grey-hound came yern-flinging, %
And hent the adder in strong gear, §
And flapped her all about his ear.
Between the adder and the grey-hound.
The cradle turned up so down on ground.
Up so down in her fighting.
That the child lay dwelling.
The staples it upheld all quert^W
That the child was nought y-hurt.
The adder so the grey-hound bot
By the side, God it wot.
He cried, and on the cradle leap.
And bled thereon a well great heap :
And when the smart was all y-gone,
To that adder he sterte anon.
And by the body he her hent.
And all to pieces her to-rent.
♦Wicked. fCauglit. J Quickly bounding. § Manner. || Tout court ? — Fr.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 37
Tlie grey-hound would not ceased be, Tell that adder were torn of three ; \ And all the place there about Was well bloody withouten doubt.
The tournament being over, the spectators began to retire, and the nurses hastened to re- sume their charge ; but they beheld the cradle overturned and covered with blood, and the grey-hound bleeding, and whining from the pain of his wounds. Without examining any further, they concluded that the dog was guilty, and, rushing out of the house, ran to meet their mistress, to whom they impudently protested, that the grey-hound, in a fit of sudden ferocity, had, in spite of all their efforts, torn to pieces the charming infant.
The lady fell into a swoon, and, on her reco- very, adopted at once the false report of her nurses, related it ta the knight on his return, and swore, with torrents of tears, that, unless he would instantly revenge her by the destruc- tion of his favourite, she would, before his eyes, put an end to her own existence. The discon- solate father spoke not a word, but rushed into the hall ; and, whilst the faithful grey-hound * Into three parts, i. e. all to pieces.
38 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
feebly crawled to meet him and to lick his hand, clove the animal in two with his sword. He then approached the cradle, to behold, for the last time, his murdered infant, and, having turned up the clothes, saw, with astonishment and de- light, the child in perfect health, and just wa- king from the slumbers which the preceding ac- cident had not interrupted. By the side of the cradle lay the fragments of the serpent, and the whole fable by which he had been deceived was instantly explained. His conscience smote him. He would not stain his sword with the blood of the wretches through whose means he had mur- dered the deliverer of his child, but he vowed to expiate, by a penance which should only termi- nate with his life, his own folly in listening to the counsels of a heedless and inconsiderate woman. He rushed into the woods, retired to a distant hermitage, and never more returned to the ha- bitations of men. Such, sire, will be your re- morse and repentance, if you blindly determine on the destruction of your amiable son, at the instigation of his false and malicious step-mo- ther.
Diocletian, who generally provided himself with opinions by ailopting those of the last speaker, now declared his adherence to the sen-
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 39
tinients of Bancillas, and totally forgot his com- passion for the misfortunes of the old pinnote- tree, in his tenderness for the good knight, whom he resembled in a warm affection for grey- hounds. But at length the night came, and with it came the reproaches of the empress ; who taxed him with want of resolution, and with an extreme love of flattery, by which she assured him that he would be betrayed, as the boar was by the herdsman. This allusion effectually awa- kened his curiosity, and she proceeded to tell him the story of
THE BOAR AND THE HERDSMAN.
To the westward of this city is a spacious fo- rest, formerly the abode of a boar, who, from his amazing size and supposed ferocity, was the terror of the whole neighbourhood. In the same forest lived a herdsman, who tended a large herd of cattle j but, as they usually pastured in the open parts of the wood, he never approached the haunts of this terrible animal. But it hap- pened, one day, that a part of his herd had strayed to some distance, and it became neces- sary that he should follow them. In the course of his search, he discovered a hawthorn tree, the fruit of which was then ripe, and, seeing
4-0 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
great quantities of it on the ground, could not refrain from stopping to fill his pockets. He did so, and was going to depart, when he dis- covered the boar, who came straight up to the same tree, under which he had for many prece- ding days found a plentiful repast. The poor herdsman was half dead with fear ; but to fly was hopeless, and his only resource was to climb up into the tree, where he hoped to remain undisco- vered. Unluckily the boar, after devouring the scanty gleanings which had been left under the tree, happened to scent the ample stores con- tained in the man's pockets, and, being disap- pointed in his attempts to reach the precious magazine, became furious with rage, foamed at the mouth, and, whetting his tusks against the roots of the tree, shook it with such violence, that the poor herdsman considered his destruc- tion as inevitable. In this extremity, he fortu- nately bethought himself of emptying hispockcts ; and, at the same time, gathering all the haws within his reach, showered them down so pro- fusely, that the boar was satisfied, and, after a plentiful dinner, appeared disposed to take his rest. The artful herdsman now lowered him- self so far, as to reach with his fingers the back of the animal, which he began to scratch with
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 41
such dexterity, that the boar, who was hitherto unaccustomed to such luxury, closed his eyes, and abandoned himself to the most dehcious slumbers ; at which instant, the herdsman, drawing a long knife, with which he was pro- vided, suddenly pierced him to the heart. Such, sir emperor, are the artifices of your flatterers ; they please and tickle your ears with their prai- ses, but it is that they may lull you to sleep, and stab you with more security.
The emperor, not choosing to die like a boar, now determined, as usual, to put bis son to death, but was diverted from his purpose by the Wise Master Ancilles, who, having obtained a day's respite for the prince, proceeded to relate the following story of
HIPPOCRATES AND HIS NEPHEW.
Your majesty knows that Hippocrates, "The Wise Clerk," was formerly professor of medicine in this city. He had with him a nephew, whom he wished to instruct in his art, and to whom he communicated all his secrets ; but, after a time, the uncommon sagacity of the pupil began to awaken the jealousy and envy of the preceptor, who had meant to form an assistant in his prac- tice, not a rival of his reputation. The inita-
42 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
tion of temper produced in the sage by these un- worthy sentiments, preyed on his health, and occasioned a dangerous disease, during the height of which he received a message from the king of Hungary, requesting his attendance on the heir of that kingdom, who was supposed to be at the point of death. Hippocrates, though much against his will, was now compelled to employ bis nephew, though he foresaw that the fame of the young man, if successful, would be elevated very nearly to the level of his own. The young practitioner immediately departed for Hungary,
And when he com to that lond.
The king took him by the bond.
And led him to his sick child ;
*' Now Christ of heaven be us mild !"
The young man seigh^' the child's pain,
And tasted f his sinew and his vein.
He taketh an urinal for to seen ;
He ne segh nought of the king, but of the queen :
And of the child, God it wote,
He segh it was a misbegote.
He gan the levedi aside draw, &c.
And closely questioned her concerning the fa- ♦ Saw. t Felt ; taster, later, Fr.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 43
ther of the invalid, who, he was positively cer- tain, was by no means related to the king of Hungary. The queen, astonished at this unex- pected question, began with treating it with le- vity, and when he persisted, threatened him with punishment for his insolence ; but on his assuring her that he was unable to cure her child without the disclosure of this important secret, and that she might rest assured of his inviolable fidelity, she looked on him with astonishment, burst into tears, and confessed that a certain earl of Na- varre, who had sojourned for some time at her husband's court, and who was very well made and well dressed, had pleased her so much, that ^^par gret druerief" she sometimes indulged him with liberties which had apparently led to the birth of her dear child.
The young physician now informed her that the boy, being illegitimate, would require " con- trarious drink, contrarious meat ;" that he must be fed on " beeves' flesh, and drink the broth," and this diet being plentifully administered to the patient, he rapidly recovered ; and the young leech w^as dismissed with the most magnificent presents, and with the benedictions of the queen and of her husband.
Hippocrates, on his nephew's return, inqui- red into all that had passed ;
445 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
He asked gif that the child was sound ; *' Yea, sire," he said, " by Saint Simound."
He asked, " What was his medicine ?" " Beef and brotli good aJineJ'* " What then, was he an avetrol?"f ** Thou sayest sooth, sir, by my poll !"
Quath Ypocras, "^ by the God's doom, " Thou art become all too wise a groom !"
There he thought, against reasoun,
To do him strong treasoun.
The accomplishment of the crime soon fol- lowed. One day that they were walking in their garden, and discoursing on the virtues of the plants cultivated in it, Hippocrates pointed out to his nephew a small herb which he desired him to gather, and, whilst the youth stooped for that purpose, drew out a dagger and stabbed him. He then buried the body on the spot, re- turned into the house, and enjoyed the malig- nant pleasure of burning the books to which the young man was indebted for his wonderful ad- vancement in science. But the vengeance of Heaven closely pursued him. He was seized with a metiesort (dysentery), a disease in the cure
* In fine ; afin, enfin, Fr. t Avoitrel, diminutive of avoistre, a bastard. O. Fr.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 45
of which his nephew was ahvays particularly suo- cessfiil, and being unable to arrest its progress, soon foresaw that it would prove fatal. He then convoked all his friends, exhibited before them some striking proofs of his art, and, after warn- ing them of the small extent of all human skill, made a full disclosure of the crime to which he justly fell a sacrifice. His death was attended by excruciating pains, which were heightened by remorse, and he expired vainly calling on his murdered nephew for assistance and relief.
Diocletian was much affected by this tragical story ; but the empress was prepared to counter- act the impression which it had left by relating the tale of
THE FATHER MURDERED BY HIS SON.
OcTAViAN, emperor of Rome, surpassed in wealth the richest of his predecessors. It was he who built the celebrated tower called the Crescent, in which he locked up his treasures, and appointed for the protection of his hoard a minister whose vigilance and avarice were equal- ly proverbial. He had also another minister, who was a perfect contrast to the former, being remarkable for his profusion ; so that, having dis- sipated liis whole fortune, he found himself with-
46 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
out resource, and at last formed the desperate resolution of robbing the imperial treasury. To execute such a design without assistance was nearly impossible, and to impart it to a common accomplice was too hazardous; he therefore chose his own son : and, knowing where the money was deposited, repaired by night to the tower, made a breach in the wall, entered, and carried off as much gold as they were able to transport to his habitation. With this supply he was enabled for some time longer to pursue his former course of extravagance; but having at length exhausted his coffers, he determined to attempt the repeti- tion of an enterprise in which he had been once successful. The crafty treasurer, however, had not slumbered over his charge. A few hours only had elapsed after the first robbery, before he perceived that part of the treasure had been purloined, and discovered the part of the wall through which the thieves had entered, and which on their departure they had again repair- ed so carefully as to leave no marks of injury which coukl attract the attention of a common observer. Judging from this circumstance that they would probably return, he caused a pit to be dug immediately under the place, and filled it with pitch and birdlime, in the hopes of en-
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 47
tfapping the robber, who, in fact, found himself instantly intangled so effectually as to preclude all hopes of deliverance. In this terrible situa- tion he called to his son, warned him to avoid the danger ; explained to him the impossibility of his escape, and the fatal consequences which must result to his whole family from the disco- very of his guilt ; and finally conjured him to strike off his head, as there remained no other means of escaping detection. The young man he- sitated for some time, but the dawn approached; the father importunately persisted in the same request : the hope of preserving himself and his relations from a danger otherwise inevitable at length prevailed, and having cut off the head, he precipitately ran off with it towards his ha- bitation.
Ac he ne wist, for none need, Where he might it best ihede:*' But, als he came by a gowg-,f Amid the pit he it flung ; And went home, and made wo, His brethren and his sistren also.
In the mean time the treasurer, who never
* Hide. t -A. privy. — Bailey's Diet.
6
48 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS,
fliiled to visit his trap, was not less surprised than mortified at finding in it a headless trunk, from which it was impossible to draw any indication of the guilty person. He, however, had recourse to an expedient which did honour to his sagaci- ty. He gave orders that the body should be slowly drawn by the feet through all the streets of Rome; that its conductors should be constant- ly on the watch-, and that if this ceremony should excite in any house near which they passed an appearance of unusual sorrow, they should seize and bring before him those persons, who would probably be the near relations of the deceased. The stratagem was on the point of succeeding, and the daughters of the dead man were betray- ed by the sight of his body into a sudden burst of lamentation, which attracted the attention of the officers ; but the brother at the same moment drawing his sword, pierced himself in the thigh, and exhibiting his wound, convinced them that this accident had occasioned the screams which had awakened their suspicions. From this tale the empress inferred that, as the young man had thrown his father's head into a gong, instead of burying it with proper respect, the wicked Florentin would gladly treat his majesty with similar contempt; and this inference, though
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 49
perhaps not strictly legitimate, having satisfied Diocletian, he rose with the determination of ordering his son's execution, from which he was again diverted by the philosopher Lentilion, who related,to him the story of
THE HUSBAND OUT OF DOORS.
There lived formerly in this town a burgess, who, being disposed to marry, was too proud to accept an alliance with any of his neighbours, and proposed to select for his wife some young lady who might ennoble his blood, and, by her beauty and accompUshments, excite the envy of all his acquaintance. Such a mate he had, at length, the good fortune to discover; and brought home a young damsel of high birth, some beau- ty, much affectation, and more effrontery. The haughty bride, though she entertained a tho- rough contempt for her husband, was in some measure reconciled to her new situation by the company of her former lover, who condescended to consider the house of the hospitable burgess as his own, and, without the name of a husband, to perform all a husband's duties.
There was at this time a law in Rome that any person, of whatever rank or sex, who should be found out of the house after the sound of cur-
VOL. III. D
50 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
few, should be confined in prison till the morn- ing, and then publicly driven through the streets as a vagrant. This law suggested to the husband a project for correcting the libertine disposition of his wife. Having perceived that she was in the habit of stealing away from his side when he was plunged in his first sleep, and reasonably supposing that she did not pass the time of her absence in total solitude,
O night, he him as drunk made.
And yede to bed blithe and glad.
And lay still, as he slept soon :
She stale away, mididon*
And went to her Ioteby;\
And he it aparceived sikerly,
And went him out, and segh, and heard,
Altogether how she mis-fared.
o
And went him in out of the street,
And shut the door swithe sket ;
And spake out at window,
And said, " Dame, God give thee how ;% " This thou ne might forsake for none needj •' Ich have i-nome thee in this dede ** "With thy lechour : with him thou gQ ! " Of thee ne keep I never mo."
* Secretly ? mithene, absconditus. — Sax. f Companion, lover. — Chaucer. } Care,
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 51
The humbled wife now expressed the most sincere penitence j prayed to be admitted into the house ; urged the public shame which both must incur if she were found in the streets at that hour j and at length, counterfeiting the ex- tremity of despair, threatened to drown herself in the well as the only means of preserving her reputation. She then took up a large stone, threw it violently into the water, uttered a dread- fiil scream, and then silently retreated behind the door. The husband made no reply to her exclamations, but that, whether she chose to hansf or drown herself was to him a matter of extreme indifference ; but he was startled by the dashing of the water, and by the subsequent si- lence. He continued to listen at the window ; repeatedly addressed his wife ; received no an- swer ; repented him of his severity ; rushed down stairs j and, running to the well, was not a lit- tle surprised at hearing the door shut behind him with considerable noise, and at being as- sailed by a torrent of invectives from the win- dow which he had just quitted. It was now his turn to petition. The sound of the curfew struck upon his ear J he heard the horses of the guards; he implored for admittance, but the wife was deaf to his entreaties. Even the guards, who
52 .THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
knew the innocent character of the man, inter- ceded for him in vain.
She answered as maUcious — " He cometh now from the horeliouse; ** Thus he is woned me to serve, ** An evil death mot he ste?'ve :* " Ich have y-hid his shame ere this ; ** I ne will never more y-wis."
Corfour bell no longer rong ;
The burgess was led forth with wrong.
What helpeth it longer tale ?
That night he sat well sore akalCff
And his wife lay warm a bed.
And solace of her lemanfredde.li.
A morrow the burgess was forth i-sette.
And his honden beforn him knet ;§
And through the town he was y-lad,
Lothlich driven, and begrad ||
As a thief. This mischance
Guiltless he suffered and this penance.
" Sire, couth this woman of guile ?" ** Ya, she was a traitour vile,
* Die. t Grievously cool.
J Felt. Sax. fredan, sentire. § Tied,
II Hooted at.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 53
" And well worse than a hound:" " Sire, mo swich there beth y-found, *' And thyself hath one swich !" &c.
The emperor is unable to controvert the re- marks of Lentilion ; but at night once more changes his mind on hearing from the empress the story " of a King of Apulia and of his Stew- ard." This is too gross, and much too dull for insertion ; but it produces the usual effect on Diocletian, which is afterwards I'emoved by the Wise Master Malquedras, who relates the story of
THE OLD WISE MAN AND HIS WIFE.
There was formerly in this city an old man who, throughout his whole life, had been cited as an example of prudence. He had amassed an ample fortune, which he expended in rational amusements ; and, having successively lost two wives, whom he had married in the prime of life, thought a state of widowhood the best suited to his declining age and growing infirmities. But his friends thought otherwise; and a prudent man is often obliged, for the sake of tranquillity, to follow the advice of his friends in preference to liis own wishes. They recommended to him
54> THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
a young and beautiful girl, who had been educa- ted with the greatest care by an attentive mo- ther, and who therefore seemed very unHkely to excite in him that jealous uneasiness to which husbands of a certain age are supposed to be very generally addicted. He married ; and found in marriage as much happiness as he expected. But it was otherwise with the young lady. As neither her mother nor her confessor had thought it necessary, before her marriage, to explain to her very minutely the change of situation which she was about to undergo, she had naturally trusted to her own imagination for a picture of futurity j and this picture of conjugal delight was so far from resembling what she experienced, that she had some difficulty in concealing, even from her husband, the excess of her disappoint- ment. After revolving this matter for some time in her thoughts^ she concluded that her husband did not love her ; and that, as she felt no great disposition to love him, she could not do better than to search for a third person, who might more nearly sympathize with her feelings. With this notable resolution she was so well satisfied, that she hastened to impart it to her mother, whom she found at church, and to whom she communicated a long string of domestic anec- dotes, concluding with
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 55
" Ich mote have some other love."
" Nay, daughter, for God above !
** Old men hen fell* and queintj-f
"And wicked wrenches X can ateinte :§
" Misdo nought, daughter, but do by rede"\\
The old lady then proposed the following ex- pedient as a trial of the old man's disposition. " Your husband," said she, " has in his garden a favourite tree which he rarely fails to visit. Take advantage of his first absence from home j order this tree to be cut down and brought in logs to your fire ; and when he shall ask your reason for committing this outrage, simply an- swer, that you did it for the purpose of commu- nicatinii some warmth to his cold bones." " It shall be done," said the daughter ; and she kept her word. The old man expressed some dis- content at the exploit, and at the excuse, but he was too prudent to say much ; and his wife, who was only anxious to witness the ultimate success of her experiment, paid little attention to his present feelings.
She waited till the enchanted fuel was nearly expended ; when, perceiving that the old man's
* Cruel. f Cunning. % Stratagems. — Sax. § Give a colouring to ; atincter. — O. Fr. || Advice.
56 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
blood was as tranquil as if he had warmed him- self by the commonest tree in the forest, she again repaired to her mother, who again dis- suaded her from resorting to extremities, and counselled her to make this second trial. *' Your husband has a favourite grey-hound bitch, who is often in the habit of caressing you ; feign yourself out of humour with her, and murder her before his face. It will be strange indeed if this do not give you a perfect insight into his tem- per !" " You shall be obeyed."
Was it nought long afterward, The young levedi and her lord Sat, on even, by the fire ; Beforen hem stood her squire. She had on a pilche of price. And a chaiself theron, y-wis; The bitch lay in her barm :* She played, and it did her harm. She drew a knife and her smot ; The bitch died, God it wot, And pilche and chaisel all be-bled ; The lord rose, and yede to bed. For all her wrenche.ff and all her gin. The more love she miffht nought win.
* An upper garment which covered the whole body. Vide Da Cange in voce caSula. + Lap. t Contrivance.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 57
In relating to her mother the ill success of this second experiment, she expatiated so strongly on the necessity of resorting to her own expedi- ent, that the good old lady had the curiosity to inquire whether any knight or squire had yet engaged her affections. She answered in the ne- gative ; and added, that, being determined to se- cure her reputation, she had thoughts of be- stowing her love on some young priest, who would of course be careful to keep her secret. The mother was now more at ease, and enjoin- ed her to make one more trial, which, she as- sured her, would infallibly procure her happi- ness by putting an end to the present apathy of her husband. " Your lord," said she, ** has in- vited all his friends to an entertainment which is to take place in a few days. You must, on that occasion, hang a bunch of keys at your girdle, and, having taken your seat at the upper end of the table, contrive to entangle these keys in the table-cloth. Then, upon some trifling pretext, rise suddenly ; by which means the cups and dishes wiU be overset, and the whole company thrown into confusion." All this was punctually executed by the obedient daughter ; who, after " sei-ving the guests with bread and ale," took her seat by her husband, and soon after sprang
58 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
up from the table with such dexterous awkward- ness that the whole hall was instantly overspread with the ruins of the entertainment. This was her last triumph.
On the following morning she was much sur- prised at beholding in her apartment a large fire, a great chair covered with cloths, a table sup- porting a number of basins, and a ** good barbery* who, with an air of medical importance, was ex- pecting her arrival. Her husband, addressing her with his usual mildness, observed that she had in her veins a quantity of peccant blood which it would be necessary to remove, and as- sured her that after the operation she would im- mediately regain the natural gentleness of her disposition. She trembled, turned pale, decla- red that she could not bear the sight of blood, protested that bleeding would kill her on the spot, struggled, screamed, but to no purpose : the inflexible barber forcibly placed her in the chair, bared her right arm, opened the vein, ap- plauded his own dexterity, took away two por- ringers of blood, and, having tied up the vvound, proceeded to repeat the operation on the other arm. Fresh screams, expostulations, and strug- gles on the part of the lady were unable to dis- turb tlie tranquil obstinacy of the barber. A
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 59
third measure of blood was drawn off: the pa- tient became faint and giddy ; and being put to bed, began to believe that her last hour was now really approaching. Her husband, indeed, had encouraged her to hope that she might yet do well J but as he had at the same time informed her that the next transgression would compel him to double the discipline, she sent in the ut- most haste for her mother, to whom she faintly cried out, that her lord had killed her —
" For mine three unwrest* deed,
** Three dishful of blood he let me bleed,
** That I ne may Uve, by Godis ore !"
*' Daughter, listeth thee love more ?"
** Nay, mother ; by God all might,
*' I n'ill neither love clerk ne knight."
** No, daughter ! I said full well,
** That old men beth queynt and fell.
" They con more qiied\ bytkenche X
** Than thou canst do with any wrenche :
" Hold thee to thine husbound,
** And thou shalt have all the mound l"^
To this story the artful empress opposed that of
• Contumacious ? t Evil, mischief. X Think of, contrive, § AH the world; j. e. all your wishes shall be gratified.
60 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
CRESSUS THE RICH MAN.
Sir, your majesty has doubtless heard of Vir- gil, the famous enchanter. He placed, by his skill in necromancy, in the midst of the Forum, a fire which it was impossible to extinguish, and at which the poor of Rome were accustomed to warm themselves and to cook their dhmers. On a pedestal, near the fire, stood a brazen statue, with a cross-bow bent, and a quarrel or large arrow on the string j and on the forehead of the statue was an inscription purporting,
*' Gif me smiteth any man, *' I schete him anon ogan."
A certain Lombard, taking offence at this in- scription, asked permission of the Romans to strike the statue, and they having encouraged him to try the adventure, the figure punished their folly by shooting his quarrel into the midst of the fire, which from that moment disappear- ed. Thus was lost one of VirgiPs benefactions to this city j but he had enriched it with other marvels, the destruction of which is the immedi- ate object of my story.
On the eastern gate of the city he placed a.
6
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 61
figure of brass, having in his hand a golden ball: on the western gate stood another man of brass exactly similar, except that he was empty-hand- ed ; and in the centre of Rome, on the top of an elevated stage, was fixed a third statue, holding in its hand an enchanted mirror, which reflect- ed an exact picture of all that was passing in Italy within seven days' journey of the city. Whenever any of the neighbouring potentates prepared to attack the Romans, the two first- mentioned statues began to play at ball, the one throwing and the other catching it; and this excited the attention of the citizens, who, on in- specting the magical mirror, immediately saw the quarter from which they were menaced, and were thus enabled to anticipate the designs of their enemies.
The king of Apulia, aware of these obstacles to his project of attacking the city, consulted all the cunning men whom he could find, and at length found two clerks in Rome itself, who, on his promise of an immense reward, undertook to contrive the destruction of the statues. They obtained from the king iwo forcers (chests) filled with gold, which they secretly conveyed into Rome, and buried at night under the two sta- tues at the gates. On the following day they re-
62 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
paired to the palace, aod addressing the empe- ror, informed him that there was a vast treasure concealed under ground within the walls, which they would undertake to discover upon his assu- rance that they should receive half the profits ; but that they must first go to sleep, because it was only in a dream that they expected to learn the exact spot where the gold was hidden. The emperor acceded to the conditions, and on the next day the elder brother pointed out the sta- tue near the eastern gate, where, on digging, the forcer was found, and conveyed in great state to the imperial treasury. The younger brother was a no less able dreamer ; and the emperor having made an excavation under the statue at the western gate, was rewarded by a second chest of gold still richer than the first. Cressus was now full of confidence in his dreamers, whom he exhorted to persevere -, but when they pro- mised him an exhaustless mine of wealth by digging under the statue with the mirror, his avarice was combated by his fears, and he re- fused to permit the operation till they assured him that all Virgil*s treasures were concealed there, and that they could so prop up the ground that all might be removed without danger to the statue. But, having completed their excavation,
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 6S
and promised the emperor for the morrow the completion of his utmost expectations, they stole out in the night, kindled a fire under the wood- en supports of their mine, and, having witness- ed the success of their contrivance, made their escape into Apulia. The populace of Rome now rushed in crowds to the palace, seized the em- peror, boimd him on a table, and having melt- ed a quantity of gold, poured it into his mouth, eyes, and ears.
And said, " Sire, for golde's love, " Thou hast made thrall that was above ; ** Now art thou full, now make thee hait;* " Now wilt thou nevermore coveit!"f
The foregoing tale, it is true, does not possess much intrinsic merit, but it was about an empe- ror who was duped by cunning men ; its catas- trophe was dreadful, and it frightened Diocletian almost out of his wits ; so that it required all the talents of the learned astrologer Caton to restore him to his senses, which he effected by telling him the story of
* Happy, healthy, O. Fr. f Covet.
64f THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
THE MAGPIE.
Now everich man that loveth his hale Listen wel Catoun's tale.
A burgess was in Rome town, » A rich man, of great renoun ; Marchaunt he was, of great aveir* And had a wife was queint f and fair ; But she was fickle under her lok, And had a part of Eve's smock : And many ben yet of her kin, That ben all be-lapped therin.
The burgess had a pie in his hall. That couth tellen tales all ylpertlich \ in French language ; And heng in a fair cage. And seeth lemmans comen and gon, And telleth her loverd soon anon ; And, for that the pie had y-said, The wife was oft evil apaid. And the burgess loved his pie, For he wist he couth nought lie.
» Wealth.— Fr. f Neat ; cointe.— Fr. J Openly, plainly. — Fr.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 65
So it befell upon a day, The burgess from home took his way, And went about his marchandise : The wife watched anon her prise, And sent her copenere * for ; And when he com to the hall door, He ne durst nought in hie. For the wreying \ of the pie. The wife him by the honde hent, And into chamber anon they went.
The pie began to grede X anon,— " Ya, now my loverd is out y-gone, ** Thou comest hither for no good ; ** I shall thee wraie, by the rood !"
The wife thought y-schent she was ;
A wrenche she thought nathelas ;§
And cleped a maid to make her bed,
And after, by her bother rede,\\
A ladder they set the hall tOf
And undid a tile or two ;
Over the pie they gan handle
A clear % basin, and a candle ;
A pot full of water clear
They shed upon the pie's swere.** * Lover. — Sax. + Discovering, betraying. t Cry. § Nevertheless. || By their joint advice.
^ Polished, so as to reflect the light. •• Neck.
VOL. III. E
66 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS-
With bason beating, and candle light. They bobbed the pie by night, And water on him gan schenche : * This was one of woman*s wrenche.
Tho the day dawen gan, Away stale the young man. Men unlock door and window ; The pie her shook with mochel hozo, f For she was fain that it was day : The copener was went his way ; — The good burgess was home y-come; Into the hall the way he nome. The pie said, *' By God Almight ! " The copener was here to-night, " And hath y-done thee mochel shame ; " And made an hore of our dame ! '* And yet it hath been, to night, " Great rain, and thunder bright ; " Sithen ich was brid in my nest, " I ne had never so evil rest."
The wife hath the tale y-heard, And thoughte well to ben amered ; % And saide, *' Sire, thou hast outrage *' To 'lieve a pie in a cage :
* The same as skenke, to pour out. — Sax. t Care. J Examined, proved innocent ; amerian. — Sax.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 67
** To night was the weather clear, ** And the firmament well fan- ; ** And she saith it hath been thonder : *' She hath i-lowe* many a wonder; ** But ich be awreke of her swithe, ** Ne shall I never ben woman blithe !'* The good man asked his neighbours, Of that night, and of the hours ; And they said, that all that night
Was the weather clear and bright.
o
The burgeis said, " the pie *' Ne shold him never more lie;" Na more wordes he there spake. But, all so swithe, his neck to-brake.
And when he saw his pie dead, For sorrow couth he no rede : He saw her [f] and her cage. He thoughte of\ guile and outrage. He went him out, the ladder he segth, § And up to the hall roof he stegth. \\ The pot with the water he found ; (That he brake with his hond;) And many other trecherie That was i-don to his pie.
» Lied. [+] An erasure in the MS. t Suspected. § Seeth, II Mounteth. Sax. stigan.
G8 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
He went him down, witliouten oth, In his heart grim and wroth ; And with a good staff, full sket. His wife oute door he bet ; And bade her go, that ilke day, An alder-twenty-devil way ! *
*' Lo ! sire," he said, " for a fool's rede, ** The pie, that said sooth, was dead ; *' Had he taken good conseil, *' His pie had been whole and hale: " And also fareth thine emprice, " Thorough her reason, shrewd and nicCf f " Shegoeth about, day and night, " Thy son to death for to dight," &c.
To this tale the empress opposed that of
HEROWDES AND MERLIN.
Herowdes, emperor of Rome, had in his council seven sages, to whom, whilst he follow- ed his amusements, he entrusted the whole ma- nagement of the empire ; and these sages em- ployed the power thus confided to them as a means of gratifying their avarice. Though their authority did not enable them to levy a
* Literally, on the way of all the twenty devils, f Wicked and foolish.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 69
tax on his subjects, they derived from the cre- dulity of tlie Romans a considerable revenue ; having enacted, that whoever should wish to have an interpretation of his dream must bring them a besaunt* as a reward : and, as the Ro- mans were great dreamers, this contribution was nearly equal to the whole imperial revenue. But the emperor was punished by Heaven for his culpable deference to his ministers. One day, that he was preparing to go out on a hunt- ing-party, and was passing under one of the gates of the city, he was suddenly struck blind. The wise men were immediately summoned, and, being interrogated why the emperor could not see, confessed that they were unprepared with an answer, and requested a fortnight's de- lay, during which they meant to consult their books, and hoped to discover the cause and the means of remedying this unexpected ca- lamity. But their books were consulted to no purpose. The emperor, who, whilst he had his sight, never thought fit to use it, was very impatient for its recovery, and the sages were almost in despair, when an old man advised
* A coin of gold, formerly used at Byzantium, valued by Joinville at ten sous ; and consequently worth rather more than as many livres of the present day.
70 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
tliem to consult the celebrated Merlin, the child who was born without the intervention of a father.
Two of the wise masters, being deputed by the rest, brought this wonderful child* to Rome, and introduced him to Herowdes, to whom he related that, at some depth in the earth, but directly under his majesty's bed, was a great cauldron boiling with seven large bubbles, and that, so long as the said cauldron should conti- nue to boil, and the bubbles remain unbroken, he never would recover his sight. The empe- ror, a good deal surprised at this intelligence, employed his miners to search for the cauldron, which was readily found ; and which, without any apparent excitement, continued to boil, and to exhibit exactly seven great bubbles. He then begged to know how this ebullition could be arrested ; but Merlin replied, that this im- portant secret could only be discovered to his imperial ears, and that his most confidential mi- nisters must leave the room. This being com- plied with, Merlin proceeded to state, that the wickedness of the wise men, who caused tliem-
* Tlie mode in which Merlin was discovered is exactly copied from his romance, and therefore omitted in this ab- stract.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 71
selves to be paid a besaunt for every dream which tliey interpreted for his subjects, had prc>voked the indignation of Heaven, and that his majesty had therefore been visited by this severe misfor- tune, for the termination of which nothing more would be necessary than to strike off the heads of his seven ministers. Herowdes, rejoiced to find that his cure could be so cheaply obtained, caused his first minister to be beheaded, and had the satisfaction to hear that the corresponding bubble had disappeared : the other executions then followed in succession with a similar effect, and Herowdes became as clear-sighted as before his accident.
To remove the impression left by this tale on the mind of Diocletian was the object of the sixth master, whose name is not mentioned, but who proceeded to tell the story of
THE WIDOW WHO WAS COMFORTED.
There was a knight in this country, " a riche sherreve^^ (count,) who married a young and beautiful wife, the object of his tenderest affec- tion. Such was the happiness of this young couple, that the day and night appeared too short for their endearments, and each moment of accidental separation was considered by both
72 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
US a serious misfortune- One day, whilst they were examining together a new knife, which had been bestowed on the lady as a bridal present, it slipped from the hands of her husband, and slightly wounded her. The accident was fol- lowed by no bad consequence ; but the unhappy knight Was seized with such horror at the sight of her blood, that he suddenly died.
He did great folie, certe. Or too tender was his heart.
Unluckily grief is not, in all constitutions, a mortal disease j and the lovely cause of his death found herself unable to shake off, with the same expedition, the burthen of existence. Yet she trusted that she should not long survive him ; and, unwilling to tear herself from his remains, ordered a small lodge to be built in the church- yard, over the intended place of his grave, and took possession of this sad habitation on the day of his interment. Her friends vainly inter- posed,
And saiden, " Dame, gent and free, *' Of thy self have pite;
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 73
** For thou art fair and young sans fail,
** And raay'st tiie world mochel avail :
** Some knight thou wed of noblay,
" And have with him much to play ;
*' Good children bejjet and fair :
" Gentle dame debonaire,
" Let away thy mourning,
*' And take thee to some comforting !'*
— " That will I do for no weal ;
** Ac die I will on his buriale !"
As they perceived that the torrent of her grief only swelled the more by indiscreet opposition, they now satisfied themselves with providing, in silence, every accommodation that could be af- forded in the hovel which she thought fit to oc- cupy ; and particularly took the precaution of making an excellent fire, to secure her from the baneful effects of the damp, and left a supply of
fuel sufficient to last till the next morning;.
o
It happened that, on this very day, three thieves, who had been condemned to death, were executed within a short distance of the church-yard.
The three thieves weren knights. That were i-honged, anon rights ;
74> THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
For they had the countre anoyed, And with robbery destroyed : Anhonged they were all three. A knight of the countre held his fee. For to loke* the three knightes Upon the gallows three nightes. He com to the gallows, armed wele, Both in iron and in steel, For to make, the first night, ward. The weather was cold and froward ; He was for-cold, and looked about, And was 'ware, withouten doubt, Of the fire in the church-hawey \ And thither-ward he gan to draw, For to have some warming ; And found the levedi doel X making, And hadf § she should let him in. She said she n^old^ \\ by Saint Johain. " A ! yes," he said, " leve % dame, *' I n'ill thee do harm ne shame." He swore as he was gentil knight ; She let him in anon right- He sat and warmed him by the fer j He beheld the lady*s cheer,
• Watch. f The church-yard. | Sorrow. § Prayed. II Ne would ; would not. ^ Dear,
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 75
And segli swich semblant she made ; And said, " Dame, thou art agadC)* " That thou moanest for the dead, ** That may thee do nother good ne qued ! " Comfort thyself, pluck up thine heart; " Such mourninjT then will thee smart. " Of this mourning thou hast unright; *' Thou shouldest love some eentil knight " That to thee might do some solas ;" And she said, *' Alias ! alias !"
At this time the knight began to reflect, that, during his absence, the dead bodies committed to his charge might possibly be purloined ; he therefore mounted his horse, and rode to the gallows. But he arrived too late, for one of them was already carried off. It was vain to la- ment his own effeminacy, which had induced him to desert his post in search of a good fire, or to imprecate curses on the desperate hardihood of those who had profited by his negligence. The mischief was done ; and his own invention suggested no means of repairing it. But he had some confidence in the resources of female cun- ning, and, having returned to the lodge, and communicated his distress to the beautiful raour* * Distracted.
76 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
ner, was completely encouraged by the unex- pected confidence of her reply.
She said, " Sir, ich will help thee,
** So that thou wilt spouse me."
** Yes, dame," he said, " preciouse !
** Gif thou me help, ich will thee spouse.*'
She let her sorrow away gon.
And said, '* Help, leman, anon,
** Help delve up my lord that was,
*' He shall us helpen in this cas ;
** And hong we him in his entaile!'* *
Her rede was done sans faille :
It ne may nought hen Jor-hokf f
They bare him forth for him was stole.
Then said the knight to the levedi, Who may this knight hongi'?X I thee say, by heaven 'king, I n'old him honge for no thing ; For gif ich had i-honged a knight, I shold be coward y-cleped with right." Sir," she said, *' Ich will, ixxWfazCy § High him hongen and up-drawe !"
The levedi did, in wode gear, ||
A rope about her lordis swere,
♦ As his successor ? f Concealed.
X Hang; i, y, and e are used indifferently to express the infinitive. § Glad. || In furious manner.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. /7
And drew him up, and hung him fast :
The knight of her deeds was aghast.
And said, •* Dame, by God mound*
" The stolen knight had a wound
*' In his heved, that was he-kuoey f
" Whereby him knew high and low;
** And, but thy loverd swicli one have,
*' I thee say, so God me save,
" Soon, within httle while,
" Worth X i-parceived our guile."
*' Sir," she said, " take thy swerd,
*' And in the heved smite my loverd ;
" Then shall it ben non understonding,
" But it was he that there ere king," §
** Nay, dame, for moche ne for litej ||
" The dead knight would I nought smite !'*
*' No, sire?" she said, ** thy swerd me reach,
" And ich him shall, with my hond, teach
*' How Godis grame came to toTmiy^
** Right a midelward his crown."
The lady took and smote with main
All a midelward the brain :
Then the knight well understood
That false and fickle was her blood ;
And said, ** Yet unlike he beth ;
" Broken were his fore teeth."
♦ God's world. f Known. t Will be.
§ Hung. II Little. If I do not understand this.
78 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
*' Sir," she said, " smite hem out." " Nay, dame," he said, *' withouten doubt." " Then will ich," she said ; and took a stone, And smote hem out everich one.
Wlien this deed was i-do, The levedi said the knight to, *' Sire, now ich have won thy love !" *' Nay, dame," he said, " by God above, " For gold ne silver, lond ne house, *' Thy false bodi ne would I spouse ; " For all so wouldest thou serve me, " As thou hast done thy loverd so free : ** Thou hast i-taught me a new r««,* *' That I shall never 'lieve woman ; *' For, tho they make semblant fairest, " They will beguile you alderformest !" f
To this tale the empress opposed a story no less dull than absurd. Rome, it seems, was once besieged by seven Saracen kings, and the emperor was advised to confide its defence to se- ven wise men ; one of whom, by name Genus, (Janus,) devised a stratagem for the purpose of frightening away the enemy. He caused to be made a black garment, covered with black squirrel-tails, and a vizor with two faces, the * Lesson ? f All the foremost, first of all.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 7^
most frightful that could be imagined, * above which he adjusted a mirror, intended to reflect the sun's rays. In this fanciful dress, he mount- ed to the top of one of the towers, gesticulated with great violence, screamed as loudly as he could, and, dazzling the eyes of the enemy with his mirror, impressed upon them the opinion that he was either an angel of light, or a devil of very high rank, so that, both characters being considered as equally invincible, the Saracens raised the siege, ran off, and, during their flight, were slaughtered in great numbers by the Chris- tians. The Roman citizens rewarded the inge- nuity of Genus by placing him on the imperial throne, after deposing their former emperor. The empress, as usual, threatens Diocletian with similar degradation ; the foolish monarch again orders the prince's execution, and again recals his order, at the intercession of the seventh Wise Master, named Maxentius, who prophesies that, on the following day, Florentin will recover his speech, and fiilly exculpate himself ; and, in the mean time, entertains his majesty with the tale of
* Here ends the Auchinleck MS. ; the remainder is from the Cotton MS., where it occupies about 1250 lines.
80 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
THE TWO DREAMS.
There was formerly a knight in Hungary, distinguished by his prowess, but still more dis- tinguished by his talents and ingenuity, in which he equalled, and even sui'passed, the most learn- ed clerks of his time. One night he beheld in a dream a lady of astonishing beauty, of whom he became suddenly enamoured, and, when he wakefl in the morning, he found it impossible to erase the impression made by the charms of this visionary mistress. Her height, her air, her complexion, the colour of her hair, and even the form and proportion of all her features, were so exactly painted on his memory, that he felt sure of recognising her as easily as an old acquaint- ance ; and, having nothing better to do, depart- ed, without loss of time, on this singular quest, in which he flattered himself with the hopes of success, although he had no clue to direct him, and was no less ignorant of the country which contained his lady, than of her name and condi- tion. At the same point of time, the lady had a similar dream, and became no less violently ena- moured of the knight j but, not being equally at liberty to wander about the world, could only deplore the misfortune of being tormented by
6
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 81
desires which she could not reasonably hope to gratify.
Durinfy three long months, the traveller pro- ceeded in his search, without any consolation but the consciousness that his adventure was strictly conformable to the practice of chivalry ;, but, having at length reached the sea-side, he perceived a spacious castle, which seemed to be the residence of some opulent and powerful ba- ron. Its walls on one side were washed by the sea, which there formed a commodious haven, filled with shipping, and the only gate on the land-side was guarded by a strong and lofty tower.
This tower contained the long-sought object of the knight's affection. She was wife to the castellan, who ardently loved her, and whose jealousy was equal to his love. He kept her from all intercourse with mankind, in a rich and spacious apartment, the windows of which were secured by strong bars of steel, and at one of these windows was the lady enjoying the pro- spect, when our knight made his appearance. The earl, her husband, was sitting immediately below her in a small court or garden, and was fortunately much occupied by a game at chess,
VOL. III. F
i>2 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
at which he was engaged with one of his vas- sals.
The knight, attracted by the appearance of a female figure, rode towards the window ; and, on a near approach, had the pleasure to recog- nize the well-known features of the lady of the dream.
He looked up into the tower. And merrily sang he of amour ; And when she heard him so begin, Unnethes might that lady blyn, That she ne had called him her unto ; But, for her lord, she durst noght so.
The features of her lover were concealed by his helmet, but his general air and appearance were sufficient to make him knoAm j and, though she had no means of explaining to him her situ- ation, she had tlie satisfaction of seeing that his sagacity had instantly discovered the cause of her embarrassment. Instantly ceasing to ad- dress her, he advanced towards the earl, dis- mounted from his horse, and, kneeling before him, said, *' Sir earl, I am a knight of a far country : I am driven from my possessions, in consequence of having killed, in a duel, a knight
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 83
whose family was more powerful than my own. I know, from the appearance of your territory, which I have traversed, that you also are hardly beset by your enemies, and I come to offer you a sword, which perhaps may prove fortunate in your service." The earl willingly accepted his proposals, and, in a few days, had the satisfac- tion of seeing his enemies completely defeated by the enterprising adventurer, whose prowess in the field appeared to be irresistible, and who discovered, as if by intuition, all the projects of his opponents, while his own were perfectly im- penetrable. In a short time the whole country was cleared of invaders, and the castle, so lately filled with alarm and confusion, by the crowds who had retired to it as a place of refuge, exhi- bited the tranquil formality of a peaceful court. All were delighted with the victorious stranger ; and the earl, who could now hunt his dogs and fly his falcons, without being fnghtened, set no bounds to his gratitude.
As the tower which contained his wife was accessible only by a single door, the key of which never quitted his pocket, and as he was perfect- ly ignorant of the passion which, through the agency of a vision, had united the souls of the two lovers, while their bodies were separated by
84 THE SEVEN AVISE MASTERS.
an interval of a few hundreds of leagues, the good man did not think it necessary to watch over or to interfere with the amusements of his deliverer, who generally passed his evenings in a, solitary ride, and always contrived, in return- ing, to pass as near as possible to the window of his mistress.
A letter soon she cast him till, Whereby he might wite all her will. The knight took up the parchemyne,* And red the French full fair and fine, And, als soon as he red it had. Was he never in heart so glad.
Nothing now remained but to obtain an in- terview with the lady, which, however, was a matter of no small difficulty. Fortunately the knight was not apt to be stopped by difficulties, and, as these had been long since foreseen, he had already matured the project by which he hoped to overcome them.
• Letters were usually written on parchment, and either fastened with a pin or sev\cd. Ladies were generally able to write, though kw knights could read ; but parchment was so scarce that to procure a piece for a love-letter was often very difficult. The word " French" (in tlie next linol h used for language in general .
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 85
He began by requesting the earl to bestow on him a piece of the waste ground beyond the tow- er, for the purpose of building a habitation ; and, as this request proved his intention of prolong- ing his stay, besides which, it was thought that such an outwork to the castle, constructed under his direction, could not but add considerably to the strength of the place, it was joyfully granted. The building advanced with rapidity j its tur- rets rose into the air ; and subterraneous galle- ries, apparently intended for the secure recep- tion of magazines, and for the confinement of prisoners, extended in every direction to a con- siderable distance. One of these advanced un- der the tower ; and, when the work was in this state, the knight sent for an architect of eminence fi'om a neighbouring city, to whom he imparted his secret, and who, under his own eye, made a communication with the floor of that building, so artfully concealed that no eye could discover it. The success of his project was now secure ; but the foreign artist was in possession of the secret, and his fidelity might possibly be cor- rupted.
The knight quif^ well the service Of the mason for his quayntise ; f • Acquitted. f Cunning.
S6 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
He slew him soon, that ilke day, For fear that he should ought say.
Asid after this murder, which, because the suf- ferer was an inferior, is related without any marks of reprobation, he gaily repaired to the interview with his mistress, in whose embraces he received the reward of his past, and formed the project of new, acts of treachery.
At parting, the lady put on his finger a gold ring, with which he hastened home, and soon after repaired to the great hall, where he joined his sovereign and the court at table. The earl, who always delighted in his conversation, was on this occasion more pleased than ever with the unusual gaiety of his favourite, till he discovered on the knight's finger the ring with which he had some reason to be well acquainted. He had presented it to his wife as a memorial of his affection ; it was the work of an eminent artist, and had been formed under his own particular directions. He thought it impossible that two such rings should exist in the world ; he mused in silence, and, finding himself unable to explain a mystery of such consequence to his peace of mind, rose abruptly from table, and proceeded towards his wife's apartment in the tower. But
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. §7
the crafty knight, who had carefully noted the progress of" the suspicions which he had inten- tionally excited, hastened to the Jady by his " privy way," restored the ring, and again dis- appeared after a moment's conference. The earl entered soon after^ accosted his wife with great affection, examined her fingers one after another, and after some hesitation requested her to show him the ring which he had given her as a memorial of his tenderness. The lady told him that it was very safe ; rallied him on his endless suspicions ; complained of her long and strict imprisonment; and for a time trifled with his impatience by the most extravagant professions of fondness : but finding that her assurances pro- duced no effect, and being vmwilling to excite his jealousy too far, she at length drew out her purse, and with a careless air put the trinket into his hands. This evidence was too strong for his doubts. The similarity of the two rings was indeed astonishing -, but that which he held in his hands was certainly no illusion, whereas it was possible that his eyes might have deceived him respecting that which he had beheld on the knight's finger. He was now fully satisfied, so- licited the forgiveness of his wife, who was much amused by his penitence, and staid with her till
8S THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
the dawn of day summoned him to his morning devotions.
After hearing mass, he sent for the knight, and proposed to him a hunting party in the neighbouring forest ; but the favourite excused himself. *' I have just received," said he, " from my own country the most agreeable tidings. My peace is made with the family of the knight whom I slew in single combat, and my mistress, whom I have long and passionately loved, has kindly condescended to be the bearer of the good news. If my lord would be pleased to dine with me at his return from the field, my happiness and hers would be complete." The earl, after promising to attend him, departed for the chase, and the knig|$ prepared to accomplish the re- mainder of his project.
Having first conveyed his mistress from her tower to his own apartment, he fiiUy instructed her in the part which he desired her to act, and then, taking off her usual dress, assisted her in putting on a rich Hungarian habit, with a head- dress so charged with ornaments as to alter very considerably her whole appearance. Thus ac- coutred she expected the earl's arrival, received him most courteously, placed him by her side at table, and directed her whole discourse to him.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 89
She had so effectually disguised her voice, and the topics on which she spoke were so artfully chosen, that for a time he felt no suspicion j but on surveying her features in succession, and on meeting her eyes, which she never turned from him, he could not help thinking that this Hun- garian stranger bore a sinoular resemblance to his own wife ; and though much ashamed of his uneasiness, he could not view without emotion the tenderness which she manifested for another. He recollected the adventure of the ring; he considered the strength of the tower, the key of which was safe in his pocket, and his reason was satisfied ; but his heart still was uneasy. He in- quired into the name and character of the beau- tiful stranger, and heard from the knight a story so plausible as almost to overcome all his uneasi- ness ; but he was particularly rejoiced to hear, both from the knight and from the lady, that it was their intention to return almost immediately to Hungary. The dinner at length was finished, and the earl mechanically repaired to his wife's apartment for the purpose of calming his agita- ted spirits.
In the mean time, a few minutes being suffi- cient to rid the lady of her Hungarian orna- ments, and to invest her in her usual dross, she
9
90 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
was replaced by her lover in the tower, and had full time to compose herself before the arrival of her husband. Never in his life had he beheld her with so much pleasure as on the present oc- casion. He gazed at her with an attention which she well knew how to interpret, though she kindly appeared to impute it to his affection, and after a long scrutiny convinced himself that her resemblance to the Hungarian beauty was most perfect ; but that their features, though ap- parently cast in the same mould, were animated by a very different expression, and that the hum- ble and submissive air of his gentle countess was far more pleasing than the assured and confident demeanour of his friend's mistress. By degrees every trace of his former doubts and jealousy was completely obliterated -, he gave way to his fondness, which was returned with much seem- ing sincerity ; and, after passing the night in the tower, rose in the morning full of confidence in the fidelity of a wife whom he was on the point of losing for ever.
No sooner had he quitted her to go to morn- ing prayers, than the knight again conducted her to his own house, and again dressed her in the habit of the preceding day. A ship had been long ready for him in the harbour, and had re*
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 91
ceived on board, during the night, the whole of his effects. The lady therefore being properly disguised, he hastened to church, and, when mass was over, accosting the earl, requested that he would kindly assist at the ceremony of his marriage to his leman, to whom he wished to be solemnly united before his departure, which, the wind being now fair, he was unwilling to de- lay. The earl readily consented, and dispatched two officers to the kniMit's house to conduct the lady to church, whilst he conversed with his friend on the state of the country, and on the measures which would be requisite to insure its future prosperity. The marriage ceremony was performed with due solemnity, the earl acting as sponsor ; after which they marched in proces- sion to the sea- side, where the unsuspecting husband, taking his wife by the hand, assisted her in climbing the side of the vessel, and, when on board, pubhcly presented her to the knight as his bride, and recommended her to his love and protection. He then took his leave and return- ed to the city ; the anchor was weighed, the sails filled, and a brisk and favourable gale speedily carried the lovers to their place of destination, leaving the husband to lament at leisure their' treachery and his disappointment.
92 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
Maxentius ended this tale, as he had begun it, with the assurance that Florentin would on the following day recover his speech ; the intel- ligence was instantly conveyed throughout the whole city; and Diocletian, who loved a pro- phecy almost as much as a story, participated in a still higher degree than any of his subjects in the general curiosity. The empress, had she been provided with any number of additional tales, would have found it no longer practicable to excite his attention. He rose at the dawn of day, and, after hearing mass, proceeded to the council chamber attended by his peers, by the Seven Wise Masters, and by a crowd of bur- gesses. Shortly after his son was brought up, decently dressed, but pale, weak, and emacia- ted ; and, after saluting his father with due re- spect, addressed him to this effect : " Your wife, sir, is a very wicked woman, and moreover a sorceress. She cast a spell, on my arrival at your court, in virtue of which, had 1 opened my lips before the expiration of seven days, I should have instantly died, and my excellent preceptors would have been sacrificed to her malice. All this 1 fortunately found recorded in the moon and stars. Had I not taken the precautions
THE SEVEN WISE MASTEIIS. 9S
which have now saved my hfe, you would have treated me as a father in this neighbourhood once treated his son who was predestined to sur- pass him in wealth and power." ** Dear son !'* replied the emperox, " thy words delight me ! Each of thy preceptors has told me a story in thy behalf, and I now find that thou also art provided with one gf these agreeable narratives, which I shall doubtless admire beyond the best of theirs. I therefore charge thee, as thou va- inest my blessing, to relate it." The prince bowed, and immediately began the story of
THE RAVENS.
At a sea-port to the westward of this city lived, some time since, a merchant, who by nu- merous voyages had acquired a princely fortune, and who, preserving a taste for his early profes- sion, frequently amused himself, during the sum- mer, by sailing from island to island. He had an only son, to whom he had given an excellent education ; and the young man, though only fifteen years old, had so far penetrated into the most difficult secrets of nature as to have ac- quired the languages of birds. One day, while the father and son were sailing in a new and fa- vourite vessel, a pair of ravens continued for
91< THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
some time to flutter over their heads, occasion- ally settling on the masts or in the shrouds, and croaking so incessantly that the old merchant was much disturbed and almost deafened by their noise. ** I wish," cried he, " since I cannot silence those vile birds, that I could at least dis- cover the subject of their discourse 1" " That," replied the son, *' is addressed to me ; they have been telling my fortune, and they assure me that I shall one day be much richer and more pow- erful than thou art, and that a time will come when thou shalt be happy to support the sleeve of my cloak whilst I am washing ; and that my mother will be proud of holding the towel to wipe my hands." " Indeed !" exclaimed the fa- ther. " Art thou so discontented and ambitious ? But I will soon try whether the croakers are not mistaken in their prophecy !" With these words he suddenly caught the youth round the waist, and threw him headlong into the sea j after which he altered his course, and, still boiling with indignation, sailed back to port.
The youth was fortunately an expert swim- mer, ard, seeing an island at some distance, ex- erted himself so effectually that, by the blessing of Providence, he at length reached the shore. But the island was uninhabited, andduring four
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 95
days which he passed on it he was unable to pro- cure a morsel of food ; yet he had the consola- tion of receiving assurances, from different sorts of birds who frequented the island, that his trial would be short, and that Providence would ul- timately reward him for his sufferinf^s. On the fifth day he discovered a fisherman in his boat, and had the good fortune to attract his attention. He now partook of the poor man's provisions ; but his entertainer, having no means of support- ing him in future, had no sooner conveyed him to land than he sold him to a certain lord who was steward to the king of the country.
This monarch, with whose name and domi- nions we are unacquainted, was at that time tormented by a very singular misfortune. Three ravens thought fit to become his constant com- panions. Whilst he was in the field pursuing his amusements, they fluttered over his head, and croaked so loudly and incessantly that the poor king was almost stunned by their shrieks. If he retired to his palace they established them- selves near his window, and continued to dis- tract him. It was in vam that he changed his lodging from room to room or from palace to palace ; his quick-sighted and winged adversa- j'jes were always at hand. Their lungs were in-
96 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
defatlgable, and J;heir bodies appeared to be in- vulnerable.
The king in no place might have peace. For of their noise would they nought cease, Nowther for bow ne for sMng ; No man might them away bring.
Vast rewards had been offered for their destruc- tion ; the king was even willing to bestow the hand of his onlv daughter, with half of his kino;- dom as a dower, on the person whf> could re- lease him from his importunate and clamorous companions. At length he determined to con- voke a solemn parliament of all his nobles and wise men. If he could obtain no relief from his torment, it would be some alleviation to talk about it.
During this time the merchant's son was be- come the favourite slave of the king's steward, and, having heard the reasons for summoning the convention, obtained permission to accom- pany his master for the purpose of beholding the solemnity. The monarch made a long and eloquent speech, described very pathetically the discomfort of hearing at every moment of the day three hoarse voices which were perfectly un-
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 97
intelligible, and concluded b)' offering the hand of his daughter, and a participation of the sove- reignty, to him who could relieve him from his distress. But his counsellors were silent. The archives of that country did not afford a single case in point, and it appeared that no ravens, since the establishment of the monarch j-^, had hitherto attempted to molest the tranquillity of the throne.
The youth now assured his master, in a whis- per, that he was able to unravel this mystery, and was ready to do so on receiving from the king a solemn assurance that the reward should not be withheld ; and the steward havino; an- nounced this proposal, the king bound himself by oath, before the assembly, to perform the conditions. " Sir," said the youth, " the two ravens who sit together, and appear to be enga- ged in constant dispute, are two males ; and the subject of their altercation is that old female who sits apart, and is generally silent, though she sometimes takes her share with considerable acrimony. The elder of the two disputants was originally her mate j but during a year, when corn was extremely scarce, he considered her maintenance as too troublesome, and abandon- ed her. She would probably have perished, but
VOL. III. G
98 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
for the attentions of the younger raven, -who fed her during the time of famine, and has conti- nued to prove to her his tender attachment. The old raven has since become once more ena- moured of her charms, such as they are, and in- sists upon renewing his former engagement ; but neither his old mistress nor his young rival will consent to his claim. Hence their incessant cla- mour. They have however agreed that the mat- ter shall be decided by your majesty, whose wis- dom and equity are well known to them, and who, they are confident, will bestow on this ve- ry intricate dispute all the attention which it merits. When you shall have pronounced sen- tence, they will immediately quit your court and retire into the forest.'*
The king rejoiced at the prospect of recover- ing his tranquillity, and, willing to merit the good opinion of the ravens, referred the cause to his parliament, where it was discussed with due so- lemnity ; after which, being satisfied with their sentence, he stood up and published his award, ** that the old raven should forego all future claim to his first mate, for whom ho had shown himself deficient in affection by quitting her in the year of finninc, and that she should become the lawful mate of the young petitioner, whose
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 99
love and constancy were highly laudable."—— Scarcely had he pronounced these words when the old raven, uttering a furious scream, flew ofF with great velocity, and the happy couple, after expressing, as well as they could, their gratitude to their royal judge, departed in an opposite di- rection.
The youth now received the hand of the prin- cess amidst the applauses of the whole council, who were much pleased with his sagacity ; his bride was oveijoyed at being united to a hus- band who was young and handsome ; and the old king, who retained an involuntary dread of the whole feathered creation, reflected with great delight, that under the protection of such a son- in-law he might henceforth sleep in peace even in the midst of an aviary.
The happiness of this child of fortune was now complete ; yet he could not help feeling a strong desire to behold once more his mother, who had always treated him with kindness, and even the father who had so unjustly thrown him into the sea. Whilst he was devising means of seeing them, a vision informed him that, being reduced to poverty, and ashamed of remaining amongst the witnesses of their former opulence, they had lately sought an obscure retreat in the
100 THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
very city which was now under his government. Thus informed, he dispatched two Serjeants with orders to find out the strangers, and to announce to them that the prince of the country had heard of their arrival, and intended to dine with them on, the following day. The astonished couple made the best preparations in their power for the reception of their royal visitant, and, when the table was prepared, presented him with wa- ter to wash •, the husband supporting with great respect and humility the long sleeve of his cloak, while the wife presented the towel. Thus was fulfilled the original prophecy of the ravens, which the s(m immediately recalled to his fa- ther's recollection. The old merchant, who thought himself devoted to instant death, turned pale and trembled ; but the prince, having em- braced his parents, ordered them to be lodged with him in the palace, and, during the remain- der of their lives, continued to cherish them with unceasing duty and affection.
Florentin, having concluded his tale, pro- ceeded to relate the crimes of the empress, who, on being confronted with him, confessed the
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS. 101
truth of the accusation. Diocletian therefore ordered her to immediate execution ; and his subjects of all ranks applauded the justice of the sentence —
Her feet they /est unto her swire,* And let her flie in middes the fire ; Thus was the lady's ending day, And thus was she quit her jour nee. ■[ The chiLl lived with great honour, And after his father was emperour, And led his hfe with workes wise. And ended sei/n X in Goddes service. Thus-gate § endeth all this thing. Jesu grant us his blessing !
• Fastened to her neck. j- Day's work, enterprise. t Since, afterwards. § la this way.
^imiimtom Wiommm.
This very general title is intended to comprise all those ro* mances which do not naturally find n place in some of the preceding classes. As the different pieces are Jar from being of equal merit, or of equal antiquity, they do not seem to require any general introduction. A short notice prefixed to each will point out the MSSt or printed 60^ pies which have been consulted.
[ 105 ]
FLORICE
AND
BLAUNCHEFLOUR.
This romance is usually supposed to be of Spa- nish origin. The earliest edition of it noticed in Percel, Bibl. des Rom. is entitled " Flores y Blancaflor, in 4to. en Alcala 1512 ;" of which a French translation was, not long after, pubhsh- ed, with the title *' Histoire amoureuse de Flo- res et Blanchefleur, traduite de PEspagnol par Jacques Vincent, in 8vo. Paris, 1554," and Lyon 1571. This was the ground-work of the elegant compendium published by M. le Comte de Tressan, who, in a short introduction, ex- presses his belief that the Spanish metrical ro- mance was written about the beginning of the ninth century ! a supposition too extravagant to require refutation. We may be almost certain
106 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
that the Spanish poem is nothing more than a translation or imitation of a French metrical ro- mance, composed probably in the 13th century, and rendered into English in the early part of the 14th ; a copy of the latter being still extant in the Auchinleck MS. It is in a very imper- fect state, consisting of 850 lines only, which probably formed little more than half of the en- tire poem ; but as it agrees very exactly with M. de Tressan's abridgment, I have made use of that work * for the purpose of completing the story.
During the time that the Emperors of the West continued to hold their court at Rome, one of them had a nephew named Prince Perse, presumptive heir to his throne, and already pos- sessed of large domains in Italy, whom his con- duct had so much endeared to his subjects, that they unanimously wished to see his virtues trans- mitted to a new generation, and eagerly promo-
* It is proper to apprise the reader, that in borromng my materials from M. de Tressan I have been far from wishing to imitate the graces of his style, which would have very ill accorded with the remainder of the narrative.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 107
ted his union with the beautiful Topase, daugh- ter of the duke of Ferrara, and niece to the duke of Milan, at whose court she had been carefully educated. Topase had herself some pretensions to the imperial throne, so that the noble fami- lies on both sides were well disposed, from poli- tical considerations, to promote the match ; and the young persons having been seized at their first meeting with an irresistible passion for each other, the marriage was shortly concluded, and they received the nuptial benediction from the hands of the Pope, together with a profusion of indulgences, consecrated rosaries, and rehcs.
Nothing could exceed the dehght of this charming couple during the first three weeks that followed the celebration of their nuptials. But prince Perse was of a warm and impetuous disposition ; the fair Topase was no less so ; and scarcely were the usual festivities attendant on such a union at an end, when they both became so impatient for the birth of a child, that the day was scarcely long enough for their devo- tions, their alms, their visits to the seven church- es of Rome, and the propitiatory ceremonies by which they attempted to procure the interces- sion of the most popular saints and most effica- cious relics in Rome: yet neither saints nor
108 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
relics thought fit to produce the pregnancy of Topase.
The bride and bridegroom were almost in de- spair, when a pious Spaniard observed to them, that they had neglected to request the assistance of one saint, whose credit in heaven was so great that he had never yet met with a refusal. This was St James. Prince Perse, resolved to repair his neglect, made a solemn vow, that, if the great object of his wishes could be accomplish- efb; he would instantly undertake, together with his wife, a pilgrimage to the shrine of St James at Coraposteila. This fatal compact with the «alnt produced its effect. On the following night an angel appeared in a dream to Perse and to Topase •, informed them that their wishes would be gratified ; but at the same time obscurely fore- told a sad series of calamities which menaced them in consequence of their impatience in de- siring to anticipate the designs of Providence. Both were much startled by this terrible vision : but at their age disagreeable impressions are soon effaced ; and as the apostle faithfully kept his promise, they proceeded to fulfil their en- gagement, took leave of the emperor, and, with- out any attendants, set off for Galicia.
At this time the kings of Galicia and of Per-
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 109
tugal, both of whom were Christians, and tri- butary to the Saracen king of Murcia, had en- tered into a leagfue to shake off the Mahometan yoke ; and at the very moment when our pil- grims entered Galicia, the Saracen prince, whose name was Felix, incensed at this insolence of his vassals, had sent his troops against the allies with orders to lay waste the country, to destroy aU the male inhabitants, and to carry into captivity the women and children.
Prince Perse and his charming Topase, un*- conscious of the danger which awaited them, faint with heat, and fatigued by their long jour- ney, were reposing themselves at the entrance of a forest, when the Saracen troops rushed upon them, and instantly murdered the unhappy prince in the arms of his wife, who, on waking, found herself covered with his blood. The offi- cer who commanded the division, astonished at the beauty and majestic appearance of the fair pilgrim, conveyed her immediately to Felix, who, compassionating her youth and distress, ordered one of his principal officers to conduct her to his queen, to whom he related in a letter the calamity which had befallen her, at the same time requesting that the lovely captive might re- ceive every alleviation of her misery which the
110 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
compassionate kindness of a royal mistress could bestow.
The queen of Murcia was of the same age, and nearly as beautiful as Topase : she therefore readily sympathized in the sorrows of so young a mourner, and treated her with such attentive kindness as shortly obtained her entire confi- dence, and drew from her a disclosure of her real name and rank, and of the motives which had produced her fatal pilgrimage to Gahcia. From this moment the names of mistress and slave were abolished between them ; they became inseparable friends ; they slept in the same cham- ber ; and the queen, who was also pregnant, as- sured her dear Topase that their children should be educated together under her own eyes, and be taught from the beginning to cherish those sentiments of affection for each other which uni- ted the hearts of their parents.
The two princesses were delivered on the same day, which was that of Palm-Sunday. The Christian subjects of Felix were indulged in the liberty of celebrating publicly their principal fes- tivals, so that palm-leaves, interwoven with gar- lands of flowers, were exhibited in all the streets, and even within the walls of the palace ; and the young queen, in allusion to the day, which she
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. Ill
considered as the festival of flowers, directed that her infant son should take the name of Florice, and that the daughter of her friend Topase should bear that of Blanchefleur.
But scarcely had this unfortunate mother brought her daughter into the world, when the image of her murdered husband, recurring in all its horrors to her imagination, entirely over- came the powers of hfe already weakened by sickness and misery. The queen, in hopes of consoling and reviving her, caused the two chil- dren to be brought to her ; but the fainting To- pase, at the sight of her infant, whose features painfully recalled to her those of its father, be- gan to shed tears in such abundance that theif nearly filled a saucer whichwas accidentally placed beside her. Then stretching out her arms to the child, she exclaimed, " O my daughter ! sole remnant of my former happiness, receive from thy mother the only present which it is in her power to bestow ! May these tears serve as the water of thy baptism, and bestow on thee the blessed character of Christianity !" With these words she poured on the head of the infant the contents of the saucer, pronouncing at the same time the words of the sacred ceremony ; conju- red the queen, as a last favour, that she would
112 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
permit the child to be instructed in the princi- ples of the holy religion to which she had just devoted it ; and, having applied her lips to the hand of her friend and benefactress, uttered a faint scream, raised her eyes to heaven, and ex- pired.
Blanchefleur, of course, vras unconscious of the loss of her parent. Educated, together with Florice, under the eyes of the queen, and treat- ed by her with the utmost tenderness, she natu- rally considered his mother as her own, and loved him with the affection of a sister. She acquired with facility all the accomplishments which were suitable to her sex ; while he, by an uncommon address in all his exercises, announ- ced the future prowess of a perfect knight, and early displayed the gallantry and tenderness of that character by his anxiety to obtain the ap- plause, and to secure the affections, of his charm- ing foster-sister.
Mohady, a famous mollah, well instructed in the tenets of the Mahometan religion, and zea- lous for its success, was chosen as the preceptor of the young prince, and was much scandalised at finding that the image of Blanchefleur was for ever standing in the way of the ideas which he was solicitous to inculcate. Florice, though
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 113
full of respect for the faith of his parents, could not be persuaded that the religion of Blanche- fleur was absurd ; and was still less disposed to beheve that the houris of Mahomet's paradise could be either more beautiful or more amiable than the charming girl whom he had loved from his cradle. Mohady stormed, and complained to the queen, who laughed at his remonstrances: but Felix was more tractable ; and the zealous mollah succeeded in convincing him that it would be expedient to remove Florice from his female companion, and to send him to the court of his uncle the king of Algarva, who resided at Mon- torio, for the completion of his studies.
The young prince was almost in despair when he heard that he was under the necessity of sub- mitting to this dreadful banishment. But his father represented to him that his superior rank demanded from him superior excellence; and that the stern laws of chivalry imperiously re- quired from the candidate for its honours that he should have been disciplined to hardships, and early removed from the indulgence of the paternal roof. *' Go, fair son," said he; *' go in quest of glory ; go, that thy name may be re- nowned ;" the queen added, " and that thou may est deserve and obtain thy mistress !" The
VOL. III. H
11 4' FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
last exhortation determined Florice, who was of opinion that the lover of Blanchefleur ought to be peerless in valour and in courtesy ; so that he consented to depart for Montorio : but though the preparations for his journey were already made, he could not consent to go till he had ta- ken leave of the charming Blanchefleur, and convinced her of the regret with which he tore himself from her. She expressed, with the most winning simplicity, her affection and her sor- row ; and, drawing from her finger a ring con- taining a small talisman, " Florice," said she, ** accept this as a pledge of our mutual love; look on it every day ; if thou seest its brilliancy tarnished, it is a sign that my life or my liberty is in danger. But obey the orders of thy father ; I doubt not thy constancy, nor thy readiness to assist me when it shall be necessary*' The ap- proach of Fehx prevented any further conver- sation.
The arrival of the young prince was celebra- ted at Montorio by the most splendid festivals and tournaments, from which however he re- ceived no satisfaction. He had submitted to ba- nish himself from all that rendered life agree- able, but habit could not reconcile him to exile. His only amusement was to cultivate a small
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 1 1 '»
garden, in which he had disposed borders of white flowers, so as to trace out the initials of his mistress's name ; here, at day break, he used to chant some couplets which he had composed in her honour ;* and here he was one day sur- prised by Mohady, at a moment when, in his anxiety to obtain the hand of Blanchefleur, he breathed a prayer to the God of the Christians as his most powerful intercessor.
Mohady became furious. He instantly dis- patched, by a confidential messenger, a letter to Felix, in which he stated the necessity of sepa- rating Blanchefleur for ever from her lover, whose zeal for the Mahometan faith was on the point of yielding to his affection for that danger- ous beauty. A second letter, addressed to Ajoub, principal Iman of the great mosque, related all the circumstances which had passed, and urged that priest, as he valued the interests of religion, to contrive, by some means or other, the de- struction of Blanchefleur.
Felix, proud of his descent from Omar, and a bigot from education, was well-disposed to
* The verses which M. de Tressan has put into the mouth of Flores are very elegant, and have been with equal elegance translated by the late Mr Way. They are to be found in the second volume of his Fabliaux, p. 285.
116 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
comply with the request of Mohady, but was unable to devise a pretext for his conduct, when Ajoub furnished him with it. Blanch efleur was in the habit of i*aising poultry, witli which she sometimes supplied the royal table ; and the wicked Ajoub, having bribed a servant to con- vey some poison into the body of a chicken which she had sent to the king, accused her of an in- tention to destroy her former protector, and supported the charge so powerfully by his influ- ence with the judges, that the innocent victim of his malice was unanimously condemned to suffer death, unless she should find, before the day of execution, a knight who should venture to assert her innocence.
Whilst this was passing in the court of the king of Murcia, an event took place at Monto- rio, which awakened Florice firom the apathy and indifference into which the absence of his mistress had plunged him. Two Moorish knights, who had signalised themselves by a series of ad- ventures in Africa, arrived in the country of Al- garva, and dispatched a herald to the court of the king, reproaching him with having degene- rated from the valour of the original Arabs, and defying his best knights to a trial of their prow- ess. The challenge was accepted ; two knights
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 117
were deputed to chastise the insolence of these strangers, but they failed to return ; two more were sent; but, as they also disappeared, the warriors of Montorio became less anxious to en- counter the unknown champions, and on the third day the herald repeated his message with- out exciting much impatience in his hearers. But Florice was now present, and, addressing himself to the herald, *' Return," said he, *' to thy masters, and say, that the courtesy and gal- lantry which reign in this court are the best pledges for the courage and honour of its knights. iSay too that I am prepared singly to attack thy two champions, and to punish their audacity."
The prince now threw himself at the feet of his uncle, requesting the honour of being imme- diately knighted, that he might encounter these Arabs of the Desert, and prove to them that he was no unworthy descendant of the illustrious Kaled. The king joyfully performed the cere- mony, dressed him in his own armour, and put into his hands the victorious sword of Kaled, which he had carefully preserved in his treasury. A superb Moorish courser was then presented to him : he vaulted into the saddle, and shortly arrived at the tents of his antagonists.
The two knights, though little skilled in cour-
118 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
tesy, had however too much honour to unite in attacking a single adversary, and presented them- selves in succession. The first assailant broke his lance against the shield of Florice, and was himself thrown to the ground. The second re- sisted the shock, and was not overcome till after a long and obstinate conflict ; but the youth and activity of Florice at length prevailed ; and the generosity with which he used his victory having gained the esteem and admiration of both his enemies, they wiUingly proceeded with him to liberate their prisoners, and promised to confess before all the ladies of Montorio, that the cour- tesy inspired by their charms tends to exalt and improve all the virtues of chivalry.
At the moment when Florice was enjoying his victory, the whole glory of which he secretly at- tributed to his lovely mistress, and was stooping to kiss the talisman, which he had received as the pledge of her affection, he beheld with hor- ror and surprise its blackened and opake sur- face, which appeared to exhibit an appearance of smoke, with occasional flashes of flame. He shuddered, turned pale, uttered an exclamation of horror, burst from the arms of his new friends, rushed to his horse, sprung into the saddle, and disappeared in an instant.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 119
Having proceeded, without stopping, during the whole of tliat day and of the following night, he arrived at day-break at the capital of Mur- cia, and, concealing himself behind a turret till the gates were opened, entered the city unper- ceived. Already a string of carts loaded with wood began to move through the streets, pre- ceded by troops, and by executioners carrying torches. In the rear of the procession was a waggon bearing a female covered with a black veil and loaded with chains ; a cadi bearing a long scroll marched behind j and a second troop of armed men closed the march. Florice, again surveying his talisman, perceived it to be more clouded than ever. He lowered the vizor of his helmet, rode up to the waggon, and with a falter- ing voice exclaimed, '* Who are your" '* Ah !" replied the female, *' I call to witness my God and my Redeemer that Blanchefleur is not guil- ty !" The voice pierced his soul. Drawing his sword, and threatening with instant death the first man who should disobey his commands, he ordered the escort to stop j and having question- ed the cadi, and learnt from him the atrocious calumny preferred against his mistress, he ex- claimed, " Traitor Ajoub ! be it my task to con- found and punish thee, and to succour unpro-
V20 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
tected innocence ! Go, cadi, say to Felix that an unknown knight demands surety in his court, and presents himself to defend Blanchefleur, and to fiffht her accusers.'*
The laws of chivalry imposed upon Felix the necessity of ordering the combat j he therefore sent for Ajoub, and communicated to him the defiance. Ajoub was neither of an age nor of a profession suited to a champion ; but he had a son, not less ferocious than himself, whose giant size and strength had already raised him to a considerable command in the armies of Felix, and who readily undertook to support his fa- ther's quarrel. The hsts were soon prepared. The son of Ajoub threw down his gauntlet, and repeated aloud the accusation against Blanche- fleur^ while Florice exclaimed, *' Traitor, thou liest in thy throat ! behold me ready to main- tain my assertion." A fire was immediately kindled at the extremity of the lists ; two wag- gons, in one of which was placed Ajoub and in the other Blanchefleur, stood together on the outside of the barriers, and the whole space was surrounded by a numerous guard of soldiers.
The two champions advanced from the oppo- site extremities, conducted by their sponsors. That of Florice was a young knight named Se-
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 121
lim, who had recognised the prince under his disguise, and had demanded permission to at- tend him. The judge of the tournament then gave the signal ; and the combatants, having shattered their lances, drew their swords, and began the mortal conflict. Florice, with great coolness, parried the blows of his adversary, and patiently waited for the most favourable mo- ment of making his attack ; but his horse, having received a wound in the neck, became ungo- vernable, and bore him, in spite of his efforts, to the very edge of the lists where stood the wag- gons. Blanchefleur, drawing aside her veil, cried out, " Ah, Florice ! why art not thou here to assist me ?" whilst the son of Ajoub, redoub- ling his blows, anticipated an easy victory. But the scene was quickly changed. The prince, determined to relieve the alarms of his mistress, exerted his whole powers : every stroke of his sword was followed by torrents of blood ; his arm seemed to move with the rapidity of light- ning, and his adversary was already covered with wounds ; when Florice, putting up a short prayer to the God of the Christians, aimed a terrible blow at the unwieldy son of Ajoub, which sepa- rated his head from his body. The father at the same moment springing from the hands of his
122 FLO RICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
guards, rushed towards the prince, who, with another blow, sent his head to accompany that of his son. A thousand voices at once proclaim- ed the innocence of Blanchefleur, who was borne in triumph to the queen, at the same time that a young slave of Ajoub, throwing himself at the feet of Felix, confessed that he had prepared, by his master's orders, the poisoned chicken ; upon which the body of the atrocious Iman was im- mediately consigned to the flames.
The triumph of innocence was now complete ; but Florice, aware of the dangers which might attend a longer stay in his father's capital, ha- ving kissed the hands of the king and queen as well as of Blanchefleur, expressed by signs his gratitude to the faithful Selim, and, setting spurs to his horse, immediately quitted the city and plunged into the forest. Selim then ex- plained to Blanchefleur, who scarcely dared to hope that her lover had been her deliverer, the reasons which had necessitated his immediate departure, and promised to go and join his mas- ter, for the purpose of concerting with him the most probable means of securing their future correspondence.
Florice returned with as much speed as pos- sible to Montorio, where he found his uncle not
6
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 12S
a little alarmed by his absence. His bloody ar- mour and wounded horse exliibited proofs of his having found an opportunity of signalizmg his valour j but as he persisted in refusing to relate his adventure, his uncle abstained from harass- ing him vi^ith useless inquiries, and satisfied him- self with expressing the most unfeigned joy at his return.
But the constant anxiety which preyed upon the mind of Florice soon affected his health, and produced a dangerous fever. Spain at that time possessed the best physicians in Europe j and the sultan of Algarva having procured for his nephew the assistance of the celebrated Aver- roes, who resided at the court of Cordova, that able man, after relieving the worst symptoms of the complaint, succeeded in discovering, and re- lated to the sultan, the real cause of the disease. The sultan, anxious for the recovery of his ne- phew, immediately wrote to the king of Murcia a most pressing letter, in which he conjured him to send to his court the beautiful Blanchefleur ; but this kind measure produced an effect the most opposite to his intentions. Felix, far less anxious for the happiness or even for the health than for the religious tenets of his son, deter- mined to follow, without loss of time, the advice
124' FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
of Mohady ; and, for the purpose of insuring the final separation of Florice and Blanchefleur, or- dered the unfortunate girl to be seized and car- ried off to the port of Carthagena, where she was sold as a slave to some Greek merchants, who were then ready to set sail for Alexandria. The merchants, rejoiced at obtaining such a prey, instantly embarked with her, and, the wind being fair, soon landed with her in Egypt.
The queen of Murcia, justly indignant at the insult offered to herself, in seizing as a prisoner any one so immediately under her protection, but much more incensed at the cruelty of her husband to the two persons who were most dear to her, overwhelmed Felix with reproaches. But it was too late ; and the crime was accomphshed. Selim flew to acquaint Florice with his misfor- tune ; and the prince, who was already inform- ed by his ring of some impending mischief, in- stantly took horse, and, hastening home, was mysteriously introduced by Selim to the queen's apartment.
However unwilling to risk a long separation from her son, this tender mother could not dis- approve of his departure in search of Blanche- fleur. She therefore embraced him, gave him
rLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 125
her blessing,* and, drawing a ring from her fin- ger, " Have now, lief son," said she, " this ring. Whilst thou preservest it, neither fire shall burn, nor water drown, nor weapon injure thee, and all thy wants shall be instantly supplied." Flo- rice having gratefully accepted the ring, took a tender leave of his mother, and before day-break set off with Selim for Carthagena.
Though disguised as merchants, the young prince and his chamberlain travelled with consi- derable magnificence ; and, being arrived at the port, took up their lodging in one of the princi- pal houses in the city, where they were served with great deference and respect, and occupied the principal seats at the table.
All that therin were
All they maden glad cheer ;
And ate and dronk each one with other :
Ac Florice thought all another.
Eat ne drink ne might he nought,
On Blanchefleur was all his thought.
The air of grandeur which distinguished him, and the settled melancholy of his demeanour, soon attracted the eyes and awakened the curi- • Here begins the metrical fragment.
126 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
osity of his hostess, who began, by observing to her husband that the elegant stranger was cer- tainly no merchant ; and, finding her remark disregarded, addressed her discourse to Florice himself:
" Child, full of mourning I thee see;
" Thus sat herein, this tnderuaif*
" Blancheflour, that fair may.
" Here in was that maiden bought,
*' And over the sea she was y-brought —
*' To Babiloyne they will her bring,
'* And sell her to Kaiser other to king.
** Thou art alike her of all thing ;
" Of semblant, and of mourning;
" But thou art a man, and she is a maid :"
Thus the wife to Florice said.
Tho Florice heard his leman neven,*
So blithe he was of that stevenyf
That his heart became all light.
A cup of gold he let fill right j *' Dame," he said, " this haill% is thine, " Both the gold and the wine j *' Both the gold and the wine eke, *' For thou of my leman speak :
* Other day. f Name. % Sound. § Health ? or whole ?
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 127
** On her I thought, for her I fight, " And, wist I where her find I might, *' Tho should no weather me assoirie^* " Tliat I ne shal her seek at Babiloine."
The travellers passed only one night at Car- thagena, and, embai'king next morning with a favourable wind, shortly arrived in Africa, where the prince, " on reaching the land where his leman resided, thought himself in Paradise." He could not, at first, ch'scover any traces of his mistress ; but he was told that the amiral of Babylon had proclaimed a magnificent festival, and he thought it certain that at such a festival he must discover, or receive intelligence about, the peerless Blanchefleur.
On his way to Babylon he reached another fair city, where the host and hostess were no less courteous than those of Carthagena, and again acquired the certainty that his pursuit was pro- perly directed. Here, too, whilst he sat at a repast which his grief of mind prevented him from tasting,
Then spoke the loverd of that inn : *' Thus sat, this other day, herein, * Prevent, excuse. — Fr.
128 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
" That faire maid Blancheflour. *' Both in hall, and eke in bower, *' Ever she made mourning cheer, " And bemente* Florice her lief sire. " Joy ne bliss ne had she none, *' Ac on Florice was all her moan."
Florice het f a cup of silver white,
And a mantle of scarlett
Y-panned all with menive/'e,1i.
And save his hostess there. *' Have this," he said, " to thine honour, " And thou it might thank Blancheflour."
He then proceeded to question his host and hostess, and was told that his mistress had cer- tainly been purchased by the amiral of Baby- lon ; that he had paid for her three shekels full of ffold : and that all who had witnessed her in- comparable beauty were persuaded that she was destined to be his queen.
Florice, after passing a sleepless night, deter- mined before his departure to ask the advice of his kind host concerning the most practicable means of obtaining an introduction to Blanche- flour J but the good man had already told all that
* Bemoaned. f Took.
t Lined with meniver, (menu vair, Fr.) or gray fur.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 129
he knew, and could only advise him to consult a friend of his who dwelt by the side of a bridge on the road to Babylon, and at a short distance from that city. At the same time he drew from his finger a ring, which, he said, would serve as an introduction to his friend : and the prince, having thankfully accepted the ring, and reward- ed his host with a magnificent present, proceed- ed on his journey.
The burgess to whom he was addressed, and whose hospitable mansion was pointed out by the bridge, was named Dayre. He was a man of great wealth and politeness, and having be- held the ring which the prince brought with him as a token, entertained him sumptuously, and offered his best assistance to relieve him from the anguish which seemed to prey upon his spi- rits. Florice, thus encouraged, revealed to him the secret of his birth, informed him of his pas- sion for Blanchefleur, related to him her unfor- tunate history, and ended by conjuring him to suggest the means of obtaining an interview with her. Dayre, who with some reason considered the young man's project as the suggestion of madness, endeavoured to dissuade him from the enterprise by laying before him a picture of the arairal's power and wealth. *' My son," said
VOL. III. I
130 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
lie, *' tliou seekest tliine own destruction. The amiral is the suzerain of at least fifty kings, all as powerful as thy royal father ; yet should they all, with their united forces, attempt to gratify thy wishes, they would be unable to wrest thy mistress from his hands. Babylon itself is a po- pulous kingdom inclosed in a city. It is sixty miles in circuit •, it contains twenty castles, so vast that each is equal to a market-town ; the walls are also protected by a hundred towers, any one of which would resist all the forces of a mighty monarch :
*' And though all the men that beth y-born, ** Hadden it, upon their death, y-sworn, " That should win thy may so soon ** As from the heaven high the sun and moon !
** The tower," continued he, ** in which the women are confined, is a thousand toises in length by a hundred in breadth ; its materials are the purest marble, and a mortar so hard that no steel can cut it :
** And the pomel* above the lead, *' Is y-wrought with so much rede^^ * Capula. t Craft,
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 1^1
** That men no firen o'night burn,
** Neither torch ne lanterne.
*' Such a pomel was never higojine*
" It shineth o'night so o'day doth the sun.
*'The women's apartments, four-and-twenty in number, are guarded by eunuchs, whom no bribe can tempt from the faithful discharge of their duty. Indeed, were they neghgent of their charge, it would be impossible that their crime should escape detection, as the morals of these ladies are protected, as you shall hear, by pow- erful enchantments. You must know that the sultan selects a new wife every year, and the ceremonies observed on the occasion are as fol- lows:
** Then shall men fetch down off the stage \ ** All the maidens o^parage^^ " And bring hem into an orchard, 5 " The fairest of all middelard. § *' About the orchard goeth a wall, " The worst stone is chrystal.
* Begun, undertaken, t Story, (etage, Fr.) the floor where the women were lodged. X Rank, high birth. Fr.
§ The earth. Sax.
132 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
** There men may seien, on the stone,
** Mochel of this world's wisdom.
" And a well there springeth in
" That is wrought with mochel gin.
'* The well is of mochel price ;
** The stream cometh from Paradise.
" The gravel in the ground of precious stone,
** And of virtue, y-wis, each one.
** Of saphires, and of sardoines,
** Of onyxes and calchedoines.
** Then is the water of so mochel «/e,*
" Gif there come any maiden that is forlaicy-f
^' And bow to the grounde,
f^ For to waschen her honde,
** The water will yell as it were wode,
** And become on her so red so blood !
** Which maiden the water fareth on so,
** She shall soon he fordo ! |
" And thilke that ben maidens clean,
" They may hem washe of the rene;§
" The water will erne still and clear,
** Shall it hem make no dangere.
" At the well'hevedW there stant a tree,
" The fairest that may on earth be ;
• Awe ; i. e. of such dangerous virtue.
t Seduced. X Destroyed. § Clear stream.
II Spring-head.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 133
" It is y-cleped the tree of love, *' For flowers and blossoms beth in above. " And thilke that clean maidens be, *' Men shall hem bring under that tree, " And which so falleth on that flower, " She shall be chosen queen with honour. ** And gif there any maiden is, *' That the amyral halt* of most price, ** The flower shalt on her be went, ** Through art and through enchantement- *' Thus he cheseth through the flower, " And ever we hearken eth when it be Blan- " cheflour !"
Florice, having foreseen considerable difficul- ties in the execution of his enterprise, had lis- tened with much anxiety, but without despair, to the greater part of his recital ; but at its con- clusion he lost aU courage, and, fancying that he already saw his mistress in the arms of the de- tested amiral, sunk lifeless to the ground.
The benevolent Dayre could not behold with- out pity the symptoms of a passion which he now deemed to be incurable. He therefore^ after some deliberation, communicated to his young friend a project, which, though extremely * Holden,
134 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
hazardous, might possibly, if pursued with skill and caution, produce the gratification of his wishes.
" You must assume," said he, " the disguise of a mason, and, repairing to the tower, appear to examine with the greatest attention its struc- ture and dimensions. The porter, whose cha- racter I well know, will immediately accost you, and inquire into your business. He will per- haps treat you with brutality ; but you will an- swer him with the utmost respect, and tell him that you are an architect, and, having orders to construct a similar tower in another country, are desirous of viewing a most distinguished model. The man is equally curious and covetous. He will enter into conversation with you for the sake of asking questions, and will soon propose to you to play at chess with him, in hopes of winning your money. You will take with you, in the first instance, only thirty marks, which you will lose to him ; and he will then anxiously request you to return and take your revenge. On the following day take Avith you a larger sum ; exhibit, if you think fit, a little more skill, so as to alarm his fears ; but suffer him ultimately to gain the whole. On the third day you must overwhelm his avarice by your generosity. Stake
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUK. 135
large sums, and lose them with carelessness; display, without affectation, the rich golden cup which I have seen in your possession, and to gain which he would readily stake his body and soul. He will press you most eagerly to play for it', and will offer to risk against it whatever he is worth. After raising his anxiety to the ut- most, make him an offer of it, declaring to him at the same time, that your wealth enables you to consider such a present as a mere trifle. This will completely dazzle and overpower him ; he will devote himself to you as your slave ; and you may then put his courage and ingenuity to any trial which you may think proper."
Florice was charmed with this contrivance, and executed it with ability and success. The porter, indeed, was dreadfully alarmed when he first learnt the dangerous service that was ex- pected from him, and repented the rash oath by which he had bound himself to an inconsiderate youth, perfectly careless of his own safety, and indifferent to that of others. But as Florice had informed him of his whole history, he began to reflect that his benefactor was the only son of a powerful monarch, from whom he might expect the possession of unbounded wealth ; and that life is often hazarded on much less flattering pro-
136 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
spects j he therefore concluded by requesting a delay of three days, during which he promised to devise some expedient for gratifying the prince's wishes.
Blanchefleur and all her companions were pas- sionately fond of flowers, and it was the porter's duty to supply them in profusion. Casting his eyes on the hampers, in which these flowers were usually conveyed, he thought that one of them might, without difficulty, contain a man ; and Florice having tried the experiment, his friend covered him with roses and lilies, and ordered a couple of stout slaves to convey that hamper, together with the rest, into Blanchefleur's apart- ment. The slaves obeyed ; but
They bade God give him evil^w,* That so many flowers did therin,
and growing more and more surly as they strug- gled under the unexpected load, they stojjped at the first apartment, which belonged to a maiden named Clarice, instead of proceeding to that of Blanchefleur ; and, having deposited their bur- then, again repeated their execrations, and re- tired.
* End. Fr.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 137
Clarice was, fortunately, the intimate and con- fidential friend of Blanchefleur, and, still more fortunately, happened to be alone when the ham- per arrived. She immediately approached it to inspect the flowers, when Florice, almost suffo- cated with heat, and breathless with the expec- tation of seeing his long-lost mistress, on hear- ing the light steps of a single female, suddenly started up in his hamper, and prepared to rush into her arms. The sight of a spectre would not have been more astonishing to Clarice. She involuntarily uttered a shrill and loud scream, which echoed through the apartments, and pre- sently brought a number of female slaves to her assistance. Florice finding his secret betrayed, though he knew not whether by accident or de- sign, hearing the crov/d of females who hurried towards the chamber, and expecting to be drag- ged to instant execution, stood silent and mo- tionless in his hamper, and resigned himself to a fate which he believed to be inevitable. But Clarice, with admirable presence of mind, ma- king him a sign to crouch down beneath the flowers, instantly remedied the confusion, and with perfect serenity of countenance rej^lied to. the questions of her attendants.
138 FLORICE AND BLANCHEPLOUR.
*' To this coupe* icli came, and wold *' The flowers handle and behold ; *' Ac there, or ich it ever wist, " A butterfly to-jrain me flist. *' Ich was so sore adrad of than, ** That shrieken and greden\- I began." The maidens hadde therof glee. And turned again, and let Clarice be.
Having extricated herself from this difficulty, she ran to the apartment of Blanchefleur, and, while her eyes sparkled with joy, *' Come away," said she, " come and see the present I have re- ceived from the garden ! Such a flower ! If you only look on it for a moment I am sure it will give you infinite pleasure." " Do not mock my grief," replied Blanchefleur, *' by talking to me of pleasure ! I am assured that the amiral is re- solved to make me his wife ; but never, no, ne- ver shall he take me alive to his arms. Florice, perhaps, may have forgotten me, but never will I forget the sacred promise of preserving my fi- delity inviolate !" Clarice listened to her with a mysterious smile, of which she was unable to
* Basket. Tlic word coop has still in some of our pro- vincial dialects a nearly similar meaning, t Cry out, Sax.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 1 39
comprehend the meaning, and, seizing her hand, only said, *' Come now and see this curious flow- er ;" and dragged her up to the hamper, from which Florice immediately issued. Blanche- fleur, speechless with joy and astonishment, sunk into his arms, and whilst Florice pressed her to his heart in silent rapture,
Clarice beheld all this.
Their countenance, and their bliss,
And lauQ;hin2[ said to Blanchefleur,
*' Fellow * knowest thou ought this flower ?
" Little ere, ne wouldest thou it see ;
*' And now, thou ne might it let fro thee !
" He must ken well mochel of art,
" That thou wouldest give therof any part!'*
The lovers now threw themselves at her feet, which they bathed with tears, imploring her not to betray them to the amiral ; and the good-na- tured girl not only promised to keep their secret, but to assist them to the utmost of her power in the further prosecution of their amours. It was impossible to be more inconveniently situated than they were, for the purpose of obtaining that nuptial benediction which was necessary to le- * Companion.
140 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
galise and to consecrate their union, and it was no less impossible, after Clarice had " brought them to a bed wrought with silk and cendale, and drawn the curtains round," that two lovers so long separated by fortune, and so well con- vinced of each other's constancy, should not con- sider themselves as husband and wife. They therefore satisfied their own scruples, and those of their good friend Clarice, by the most solemn promise of being publicly married at the first convenient opportunity.
Now had the amiral swich a wone, *
That every day there should come
Three maidens out of her bower.
To serven him, uj) in the tower,
With water, and cloth, and basin,
For to washen his hondes in.
The third should bring comb and mirour.
To serven him with great honour.
And as this ceremony was performed by all the ladies in rotation, each pair being on duty for two successive days, it unfortunately came to the turn of Clarice and Blanchefleur, on the morn- ino; after the arrival of Florice. Clarice rose ♦ Custom.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 141
with the sun, and hastened to call her friend, who promised to follow immediately; but having failed to keep her word, the dexterous confi- dante assured the amiral that the poor girl had spent the whole night in prayers for his safety and happiness, and was, for that reason, inca- pable of attending her duty. This excuse was so well delivered, that the amorous monarch was perfectly satisfied ; but as the same story, how- ever plausible, was not likely to succeed a second time, Clarice earnestly besought Blanchefleur to be more watchful on the following day ; when, finding that, after repeating her summons more loud y than usual, she obtained no answer, she very naturally concluded that the recollection of her recent danger had kept her friend awake, and that she must have already arrived at the palace. So strong was the impression on her mind, that when, upon her appearing before the amiral, he repeated his former question, she was utterly unprovided with an answer. Her haugh- ty master, incensed at this mark of neglect on the part of that Blanchefleur who had so lately been wearying Heaven with prayers for his hap- piness, instantly ordered his chamberlain to re- pair to her apartment, and to explore the cause of her absence. The chamberlain executed his
142 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
commission, entered her bower, advanced to her bed, opened the curtains, beheld lier fast asleep, saw another face on the same pillow, and re- turned, almost petrified with astonishment, to relate the story to his master. The amiral, not less astonished, seized his sword, and proceeded with his officer to the bed j and " yet was the sleep so fast on their eyes" that the happy cou- ple were unconscious of his intrusion. Florice was so young that his face did not betray his sex ; but the amiral, uncovering his breast, per- ceived that he was a man, and, boiling with rage, uttered an exclamation which wakened the sleep- ing lovers.
*' Say me now, thou, bel ami,
" Who made thee so hardi,
** For to come into my tower
" To ligge there by Blancheflour ?
*' To wrother-hale * were ye boreyf
*' Ye shollen tholieX death therefore !"
Neither of the lovers was able, in this first mo- ment of surprise and horror, to give any answer to his questions ; but as the desire of learning all the circumstances of this inexplicable adventure • Malediction. f Born. X Suffer, Sax.
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 143
had, in the first instance, stopped his uplifted sword, he now determined that the culprit should be examined before his whole council, and in the mean time ordered them into strict confinement. His peers being assembled, he related to them the circumstances of the case, which were so strong that they could not avoid awarding the punishment of death against the guilty couple ; but when the prisoners were brought into courts their youth, their air of innocence, and the evi- dent anxiety of each for the fate of the other, awakened the utmost compassion of their judges, who flocked round them, and surveyed them with pity and astonishment. Florice had still on his finger the ring bestowed on him by his mother, and hastily putting it into the hand of his mis- tress, earnestly conjured her to preserve it, add- ing, that when she should be secure, he could meet his fate, whatever it might be, with proper fortitude. But Blanch efleur, not less generous than her lover, scorned the means of surviving him ; and, during the contest of affection, the ring was dropped on the ground, and picked up by one of the lords, who hastened with it to the amiral, and related to him with tears of admira- tion the singular scene which he had witnessed. The monarch, though he felt for Florice the
144< FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR.
rage of a disappointed rival, was not unmoved by this narrative, and, ordering the prisoners up to the throne, demanded of the youth if he had any thing to say. He repHed that he merit- ed death, and was prepared to suffer it, but humbly solicited the pardon of Blanchefleur; while she boldly proclaimed her own guilt, and refused, in the presence of the astonished ami- ral, any boon which she could not share with Florice. " Then," said he, "ye shall both die !" and, drawing his sword, saw them rush forward together, and stretch out their necks to receive the blow.
The amiral, wroth though he were. Both him changed mood and cheer. For either for other woulde die. And he saw so many a weeping eye. And for he had so mochel loved the may, Weeping he turned his head away ; And his swerd it fell to ground —
The lovers were pardoned ; but the amiral in- sisted on knowing the contrivance by which Flo- rice had been introduced into Blanchefleur's apartment J and this the youth refused to tell until he had obtained the full pardon of his ac-
FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUR. 145
complice. This being readily granted, he pro- ceeded to relate his whole history, and to explain the means by which, after his long pilgrimage in search of Blanchefleur, he had overpowered the fidelity of the porter, and gained admission in a flower-basket to the bower of the ladies. The amiral, having thus learned the noble birth and valorous exploits of the young knight, seat- ed him by his side ; conferred on him a princi- pal command in his armies ; and permitted him to be solemnly united to his mistress in one of the Christian churches which were tolerated in his dominions. He even expressed his wish to be instructed in our holy religion ; and, by the advice of Blanchefleur, renounced his wicked habit of changing his wives annually, and gave his hand to the lovely Clarice. The festivals in- stituted in honour of this marriage were scarcely finished, when Florice received the news of his father's death, and the invitation of his baron- age to take possession of the throne of Murcia ; but notwithstanding his anxiety to revisit his mother, he could not immediately tear himself from the amiral, his new convert, uor separate Blanchefleur from the amiable Clarice : so
VOL. III. K
146 FLORICE AND BLANCHEFLOUK.
They betaught the amiral our dright^*
And they came home when they might,
And let crown him to king,
And her to queen, that sweet thing;
And under fo)ig Christendom f of pr'iestes hond.
And thonked God of all his sond.
Now ben they both dead,
Christ of heaven home their souls led.
Now is this tale brought to an end.
Of Florice and of his leman hend, &c.
* Our Lord. f Received baptism,
C 147 3
A COPY of the following romance is preserved in the public library at Cambridge, MSS. More. 690. 35. and another in the Harleian MSS. 1701. ^ from which my transcript was made. It was never printed. Mr Warton having al- ready analysed it (vol. i. p. 184.), I have com- pressed the following abstract as much as possi- ble, and have avoided a repetition of such ex- tracts as were already before the public.
Mr Warton has justly observed, that the his- tory of the emperor Jovinian, in the 59th chap- ter of the Gesta Romanorum, is nearly identi- cal with this romance. The incidents however are not exactly similar, and in some of these the Latin prose has a manifest advantage over the minstrel poem.
[ 148 ]
ROBERT OF CYSILLE.
476 Lines.
Robert, king of Sicily, brother to Pope Urban and to Valemond, emperor of Germany, was among the most powerful and valorous princes of Europe ; but his arrogance was still more con- spicuous than his power or his valour. Con- stantly occupied by the survey of his present greatness, or by projects for its future extension, he considered the performance of his religious duties as insufferably tedious ; and never paid his adorations to the Supreme Being without evident reluctance and disgust. His guilt was great ; and his punishment was speedy and ex- emplary.
Once upon a time, being present during ves- pers on the eve of St John, his attention was excited by the following passage in the Magnifi- cat y *' deposuit potentes de sede, et exaltavit hu- miles." He inquired of a clerk the meaning of
ROBERT OF CYSILLE. 149
these words ; and, having heard the explana- tion, replied that such expressions were very foolish, since he, being the very flower of chi- valry, was too mighty to be thrown down from his seat, and had no apprehension of seeing others exalted at his expense. The clerk did not presume to attempt any remonstrance j the ser- vice continued; Robert thought it longer and more tedious than ever j and at last fell fast asleep.
His slumber was not interrupted, nor indeed noticed by any of the congregation, because an angel having in the mean time assumed his fea- tures, together with the royal robes., had been at- tended by the usual officers to the palace, where supper was immediately served. Robert, how- ever, awaked at the close of day ; was much as- tonished by the darkness of the church, and not less so by the solitude which surrounded him. He began to call loudly for his attendants, and at length attracted the notice of the sexton, who, conceiving him to be a thief secreted in the church for the purpose of stealing the sacred or- naments, approached the door with some pre- caution, and transmitted his suspicions through the key-hole. Robert indignantly repelled this accusation, affirming that he was the king; up-
150 ROBERT OF CYSILLB.
on which the sexton, persuaded that he had lost his senses, and not at all desirous of having a madman under his care, readily opened the door, and was glad to see the supposed maniac run with all speed to the palace. But the palace gates wei'e shut ; and Robert, whose temper was never very enduring, and was now exasperated by rage and hunger, vainly attempted by threats of imprisonment, and even of death, to subdue the contumacy of the porter. While the meta- morphosed monarch was venting his rage at the gate, this officer hastened to the hall, and, fall- ing on his knees, requested his sovereign's or- ders concerning a madman who loudly asserted his riffht to the throne. The ano-el directed that he should be immediately admitted ; and Robert at length appeared, covered with mud, in con- secjuence of an affray in which he had flattened the porter's nose, and had been himself rolled in a puddle by the porter's assistants.
Without paying the least attention to these accidental circumstances, or to the clamours of the wounded man, who loudly demanded justice, he rushed up to the throne ; and though a good deal startled at finding not only that, and all the attributes of royalty, but even his complete set of features, in the possession of another, he
ROBERT OF CYSILLE. 151
boldly proceeded to treat the angel as an impos- tor, threatening him with the vengeance of the pope and of the emperor, who, he thought, could not fail of distinffuishinfj the true from the fictitious sovereign of Sicily.
" Thou art my fool !" said the angel ; " Tliou shalt be shorn, every deal *' Like a fool, a fool to be ; ** For thou hast now no dignity. ** Thine counsellor shall be an ape ; *' And o clothing you shall be shape. — *' He shall ben thine own fere ; *' Some wit of him thou might lere. ** Hounds, how so it befalle, " Shall eat with thee in the hall. ** Thou shalt eaten on the ground ; " Thy 'sayer shall ben an hound, *' To assay thy meat before thee -, *' For thou hast lore thy dignity !" .
He cleped a barber him before. That, as a fool, he should be shore, All around like a fi'ere, An hand-bredc* above the ear ;
* A band's breadth.
152 ROBERT OF CYSILLE.
And on his crown maken a cross.* He gan cry and make noise ; And said they should all abye, That did him swich villainy, &(v
Thus was Robert reduced to the lowest state of human degradation ; an object of contempt and derision to those whom he had been accus- tomed to despise j often suffering from hunger and thirst ; and seeing his sufferings inspire no more compassion than those of the animals with whom he shared his precarious and disgusting repast. Yet his pride and petulance were not subdued. To the frequent inquiries of the angel whether he still thought himself a king, he con- tinued to answer by haughty denunciations of vengeance, and was incensed almost to madness when this reply excited, as it constantly did, a general burst of laughter.
In the mean time Robert's dominions were admirably governed by his angeUc substitute. The country, always fruitful, became a paragon of fertility ; abuses were checked by a severe ad- ministration of equal justice j and, for a time, all
* The custom of shaving fools, so as to give them in some measure the appearance of friars, is frequently noticed ia our oldest romances.
ROBERT OF CYSILLE. 153
evil propensities seemed to be eradicated from tlie hearts of the happy Sicilians—
Every man loved well other ; Better love vi^as never with brother. In his time was never no strife Between man and his wife : Then was this a joyful thing In land to have swich a king.
At the end of about three years arrived a so- lemn embassy from Sir Valemond the emperor, requesting that Robert would join him, on Holy Thursday, at Rome, whither he proposed to go on a visit to his brother Urban. The angel wel- comed the ambassadors j bestowed on them gar- ments lined with ermine and embroitlered with jewels, so exquisitely wrought as to excite uni- versal astonishment j and departed in their com- pany to Rome.—
The fool Robert also went. Clothed in loathly garnement, With fox-tails riven all about : Men might him knowen in the rout. An ape rode of his clothing ;
So foul rode never king.
]
X54< ROBERT OF CYSILLE.
These strange figures, contrasted with the un- paralleled magnificence of the angel and his at- tendants, produced infinite merriment among the spectators, whose shouts of admiration were enlivened by frequent peals of laughter.
Robert witnessed, in sullen silence, the de- monstrations of affectionate regard with which the pope and the emperor welcomed their sup- posed brother ; but at length, rushing forward, bitterly reproached them for thus joining in an unnatural conspiracy with the usurper of his throne. This violent sally, however, was received by liis brothers, and by the whole papal court, as an undoubted proof of his madness ; and he now learnt for the first time the real extent of his misfortune. His stubbornness and pride gave way, and were succeeded by sentiments of remorse and penitence.
We have already seen that he was not very profoundly versed in scripture history, but he now fortunately recollected two examples which he considered as nearly similar to his own ; those of Nebuchadnessar and Holofernes. Recalling to his mind their greatness and degradation, he observed that God alone had bestowed on them that power which he afterwards annihilated —
ROBERT OF CYSILLE. 155
" So liath he mine, for my gult j *' Now am I full lowe pult ; " And that is right that I so be : " Lord J on thy fool have thou pite !
" That error hath made me to smart
" That I had in my heart;
** Lord, I 'leved not on thee:
*' Lord, on thy fool have thou pite^
*' Holy writ I had in despite ; *' Therefore 'reaved is my right ; " Therefore is rio-ht a fool that I be: " Lord, of thy fool have thou pite," &c.
The sincerity of his contrition is evinced, in the original, by a long series of such stanzas, with httle variation of thought or expression j but the foregoing specimen wiU, perhaps, suffice for the satisfaction of the reader.
After five weeks spent in Rome, the emperor, and the supposed king of Sicily, returned to their respective dominions, Robert being still accou- tred in his fox-tails, and accompanied by his ape, whom he now ceased to consider as his inferior. When returned to the palace, the angel, before the whole court, repeated his usual question;
156 ROBERT OF CYSILLE.
but the penitent, far from persevering in his former insolence, humbly replied, " that he was indeed a fool, or worse than a fool ; but that he had at least acquired a perfect indiiference for all worldly dignities." The attendants were now ordered to retire : and the angel, being left alone with Robert, informed him that his sins were forgiven ; gave him a few salutary admonitions, and added,
** I am an angel of renown
*' Sent to keep thy regioun.
** More joy me shall fall
*' In heaven, among mine feren all,
** In an hour of a day,
** Than here, I thee say,
*' In an hundred thousand year;
** Though all the world, far and near,
** Were mine at my liking :
** I am an angel; thou art king !"
With these words he disappeared ; and Ro- bert, returning to the hall, received, not without some surprise and confusion, the usual saluta- tions of the courtiers.
From this period he continued, during three years, to reign with so much justice and wisdom,
ROBERT OF CYSILLE. lo7
that his subjects had no cause to regret the change of their sovereign ; after which, being warned by the angel of his approaching dissolu- tion, he dictated to his secretaries a full account of his former perverseness, and of its strange punishment ; and, having sealed it with the royal signet, ordered it to be sent, for the edification of his brothers, to Rome and Vienna. Both received, with due respect, the important lesson : the em- peror often recollected with tenderness and com- passion the degraded situation of the valiant Ro- bert ; and the pope, besides availing himself of the story in a number of sermons addressed to the faithful, caused it to be carefully preserved in the archives of the Vatican, as a constant warning against pride, and an incitement to the performance of our religious duties.
C 158 J
SIR ISUMBRAS.
The following romance is abridged from the MS. copy in the hbrary of Caius College A 9, collated with the printed copy in Mr Garrick's plays. It consists of 130 six-lined stanzas.
There was once a knight, who from his ear- liest infancy ajipeared to be the peculiar favour- ite of fortune. His birth was noble j his person equally remarkable for strength and beauty ; his possessions so extensive as to furnish the amuse- ments of hawkinff and hunting in the hiijhest perfection. Though he had found no opportu- nity of signalizing his courage in war, he had borne away the prize at numberless tourna- ments ; his courtesy was the theme of general praise, his hall was the seat of unceasing j^len- ty ; it was crowded with minstrels, whom he en-
SIR ISUMBRAS. 159
tertained with princely liberality, and the pos- session of a beautiful wife and three lovely chil- dren completed the sum of earthly happiness.
Sir Isumbras had many virtues ; but he had one vice. In the pride of his heart he forgot the Giver of all good things, and considered the blessings so abundantly showered upon him, as the proper and just reward of his distinguished merit. Instances of this overweening presump- tion might perhaps be found in all ages among the possessors of wealth and power ; but few sin- ners have the good fortune to be recalled, hke Sir Isumbras, by a severe but salutary punish- ment, to the pious sentiments of Christian hu- mility.
It was usual with kni<>;hts to amuse themselves with hawking or hunting whenever they were not occupied by more serious business ; and as business seldom intervened, they thus amused themselves every day in the year. One morn- ing, being mounted on his favourite steed, sur- rounded by his dogs, and with a hawk on his fist. Sir Isumbras cast his eyes on the sky, and discovered an angd, who, hovering over him, reproached him with his pride, and announced the punishment of instant and complete degra- dation.
The terrified culprit immediately fell on his
ICO SIR ISUMBRAS.
knees j acknowledged the justice of his sentence ; returned thanks to Heaven for deigning to visit him with adversity while the possession of youth and health enabled him to endure it ; and, filled with contrition, prepared to return from the forest. But scarcely had the angel disappeared when his good steed suddenly fell dead under him ; the hawk dropped from his fist ; his hounds wasted and expired ; and being thus left alone he hastened on foot towards his palace, filled with melancholy forebodings, but impatient to learn the whole extent of his misfortune.
He was shortly met by a part of his house- hold, who, with many tears, informed him that his horses and oxen had been suddenly struck dead with lightning, and that his capons were all stuno: to death with adders. He received the tidinsjs with humble resignation, commanded his servants to abstain from murmurs against Providence, and passed on. He was next met by a page, who related that his castle was burn- ed to the ground ; that many of his servants had lost their lives ; and that his wife and children had with great difliculty escaped from the flames. Sir Isumbras, rejoiced that Heaven had yet spared those who were most dear to him, be- stowed upon the astonished page his purse of gold as a reward for the intelligence.
SIR ISUMBRAS. 161
A doleful sight then gan he see ; His wife and his children three
Out of the fire were fled : There they sat, under a thorn, Bare and naked as they were born,
Brought out of their bed. A wofui man then was he. When lie saw them all naked be.
The lady said, all so blive, " For nothing, sir, be ye adrad." He did off his surcote o^ pallade.,*'
And with it clad his wife. His scarlet mantle then shore he ; Therein he closed his children three
That naked before him stood.
He then proposed to his wife, that, as an ex- piation of their sins, they should instantly un- dertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem ; and, cutting with his knife a sig-n of the cross on his naked shoulder, set off with the four companions of his misery, resolved to beg his bread till he shoukl arrive at the holy sepulchre.
After passing through " seven lands," sup-
* Palata, Lat. Palclot, O. Fr. sometimes signifying a parlicular stuff, and sometimes a particular dress. SceDii Cange.
VOL. III. L
162 SIR ISUMBRAS.
ported by the scanty alms of the charitable, they arrived at length at a forest where they wander- ed during three days without meeting a single habitation. Their food was reduced to the few berries which they were able to collect ; and the children, unaccustomed to such hard fare, began to sink under the accumulated difficulties of their journey. In this situation they were stopped by a wide and rapid though shallow river. Sir Isumbras, taking his eldest son in his arms, car- ried him over to the opposite bank, and, placing him under a bush of broom, directed him to dry his tears, and amuse himself by playing with the blossoms till his return with his brother. But scarcely had he left the place when a lion, start- ing from a neighbouring thicket, seized the child, and bore him away into the recesses of the forest. The second son became, in like man- ner, the prey of an enormous leopard ; and the disconsolate mother, when carried over with her infant to the fatal spot, was with difficulty per- suaded to survive the loss of her two elder chil- dren. Sir Isumbras, though he could not re- press the tears extorted by this cruel calamity, exerted himself to console his wife, and, humbly confessing his sins, contented himself with pray-
SIR ISUMBRAS. 163
ing that his present misery might be accepted by Heaven as a partial expiation.
Through forest they went days three, Till they came to the Greekish sea ;
They grette, and were full wo ! As they stood upon the land, They saw a fleet come sailand,
Three hundred ships and mo. With top-castels set on-loft, Richly then were they wrouglit,
With joy and mickle pride : A heathen king was therein, That Christendom came to win j
His power was full wide.
It was now seven days since the pilgrims had tasted bread or meat ; the soudan's galley,, there- lore, was no sooner moored to the beach than they hastened on board to beg for food. The soudan, under the apprehension that they were spies, ordered them to be driven back on shore : but his attendants observed to him that these could not be common beggars ; that the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband proved him to be a knight in disguise j and that the delicate complexion of the wife, who wns " bright as
I6"4f SIR ISUMBRAS.
blossom on tree," formed a striking contrast to the ragged apparel by which she was very im- perfectly covered. They were now brought into the royal presence ; aid the soudan, addressing Sir Isumbras, immediately offered him as much treasure as he should require, on condition that he should renounce Christianity, and consent to fiffht under the Saracen banners. The answer was a respectful but peremptory refusal, con- cluded by an earnest petition for a little food ; but the soudan, having by this time turned his eyes from Sir Isumbras to the beautiful compa- nion of his pilgrimage, paid no attention to this request j
The soudan beheld that lady there,
Him thought an angel that she were, Comen a-down from heaven : " Man ! I will give thee gold and fee, <* An thou that woman will sellen me,
" More than thou can neven* "I will thee given an hundred pound " Of pennies that ben whole and round,
" And rich robes seven : " She shall be queen of my land ; " And all men bow unto her hand ; * Name.
SIR ISUMBRAS. 165
•* And none withstand her Steven.***
Sir Isumbras said, " Nay ! ** My wife i will nought seli away,
** Though ye me for her sloo ! ** I wedded her in Godis lay, ** To hold her to mine ending day,
•* Both for weal and wo."
It evidently would require no small share of casuistry to construe this declaration into an ac- ceptance of the bargain ; but the Saracens, ha- ving heard the offer of their sovereign, delibe- rately counted out the stipulated sum on the man- tle of Sir Isumbras ; took possession of the lady ; carried the knight with his infant son on shore ; beat him till he was scarcely able to move ; and then returned for further orders.
During this operation the soudan, with his own hand, placed the regal crown on the head of his intended bride : but recollecting that the original object of his voyage to Europe was to conquer it, which might possibly occasion a loss of some time, he delayed his intended nu})tials ; and ordered a fast-sailing vessel to convey her to his dominions; providing her at the same time with a charter addressed to his subjects, in
* Voice.
S
166 SIR ISUMBRAS.
which he enjoined them to obey her, from the moment of her landing, as their legitimate so- vereign.
The lady, emboldened by these tokens of de- ference on the part of her new lord, now fell on her knees, and entreated his permission to pass a few moments in private with her former hus- band ; and the request was instantly granted by the complaisant Saracen. Sir Isumbras, still s^marting from his bruises, was conducted with great respect and ceremony to his wife, who, embracing him with tears, earnestly conjured him to seek her out as soon as possible in her new dominions, to murder his infidel rival, and to take possession of a throne which was proba- bly reserved to him by Heaven as an indemni- fication for his past losses. She then supplied him with provisions for a fortnight ; kissed him and her infant son -, swooned three times j and set sail for Africa.
Sir Isumbras, who had been set on shore quite confounded by this quick succession of strange adventures, followed the vessel with his eyes till it vanished from his sight, and then, taking his son by the hand, led him up to some rocky woodlands in the neighbourhood. Here they sat down under a tree, and after a short repast.
SIR ISUMBRAS. 167
which was moistened with their tears, resumed their journey. But they were again bewildered in the forest ; and, after gaining the summit of the mountain without being able to descry a sin- gle habitation, lay down on the bare ground, and resigned themselves to sleep.
The next morninor Sir Isumbras found that his misfortunes were not yet terminated. He had carried his stock of provisions, together with his gold, the fatal present of the soudan, enveloped in the remnant of his scarlet mantle j and scarcely had the sun darted his first rays on the earth, when an eagle, attracted by the red cloth, darted down upon the treasure and bore it off in his talons. Sir Isumbras, waking at the moment, perceived the theft, and for some time hastily pursued the flight of the bird, who, he expected, would speedily drop the heavy and useless burthen : but he was disappointed ; for the eagle, constantly towering as he approached the sea, at length directed his flight towards the opposite shores of Africa. Sir Isumbras slowly returned to his child, whom he had no longer the means of feeding ; but the wretched father only arrived in time to behold the boy snatched from him by a unicorn.
The knight was now quite disheartened. But
lt>S tilR ISUMBRAS.
his last calamity was so evidently miraculous, tliat even the grief of the father was nearly ab- sorbed in the contrition of the sinner. He fell on his knees, and, uttering a most fervent pray- er to Jesus and the Virgin, proceeded on his journey.
His attention was soon attracted by the sound of a smith's bellows : he quickly repaired to the forge, and requested the charitable donation of a little food ; but was told by the labourers that he seemed well able to work as they did, and that they had nothing to throw away in charity.
Then answered the knight again, " For meat would I swink* fain !"
Fast he bare and drow •,\ They given him meat and drink anon. And taughten him to bear stone :
Then had he shame enow.
This novitiate lasted a twelvemonth ; and se- ven years expired before he had fully attained all the mysteries of his new profession. He em- [)]oyed his few leisure hours in fabricating a com- plete suit of armour ; every year had brought to Ijis ears an account of the progress of the Sara- * Labour. f Drew.
SIR ISUMBRAS, 169
cens ; and he could not help entertaining a hope that his arm, though now so ignobly employed, was destined, at some future day, to revenge the wrongs of the Christians, as well as the injury which he had personally received from the un- believers.
At length he heard that the Christian army had again taken the field ; that the day was fix- ed for a great and final effort ; artd that a plain at an inconsiderable distance from bis shop was appointed for the scene of action. Sir Isumbras rose before day, buckled on his armour ; and, mounting a horse which had hitherto been em- ployed in carrying coals, proceeded to the field, and took a careful survey of the disposition of both armies. When the trumpets gave the sig- nal for the charge, he dismounted, fell on his knees, and, after a short but fervent prayer to Heaven, again sprang into his saddle, and rode into the thickest ranks of the enemy. His un- couth war-horse and awkward armour had scarcely less effect than his wonderful address and courage in attracting the attention of both parties ; and when, after three desperate charges, his sorry steed was slain under him, one of the Christian chiefs made a powerful effort for his rescue, bore him to a neighbouring eminence,
i70 SIR ISUMBRAS.
and presented to him a more suitable coat of ar- mour, and a horse more worthy of his heroic rider.
"When he was armed on that steed. It is seen yet where his horse yede,*
And shall be evermore. As sparkle glides offtlie glede,f In that stour he made many bleed,
And wrought hem wonder sore. He rode up into the mountain. The soudan soon hath he slain,
And many that with him were. All that day lasted the fi<^ht ; Sir Isumbras, that noble knight,
Wan the battle there. Knights and squires han him sought, And before the king him brought;
Full sore wounded was he. They asked what was his name ; He said, " Sire, a smith's man j
" What will ye do with me ?" The Christian king said, than, *' I trow, never smith's man
** In war was half so wiffht."
o
* Went. f Hob iron.
SIR ISUMBRAS. 17 1
*' I hid * you, give me meat and drink, *' And what that I will after think,
** 'Till I have kevered\ my might." The king a great oath sware, As soon as he whole were,
That he would dub him knio-ht.
o
In a nunnery they him leaved, To heal the wounds in his heved.
That he took in that fijjht. The nuns of him were ful fain ; For he had the soudan slain.
And many heathen hounds. For his sorrow they gan sore rue ; Every day they salved him new.
And stopped well his wounds.
We may fairly presume, without derogating from the merit of the holy sisters, or from the virtue of their salves and bandages, that the knight's recovery was no less accelerated by the pleasure of having chastized the insolent purcha- ser of his wife, and the author of his contume- lious beating. In a few days his health was re- stored; and, having provided himself with a ** scrip and pike," and the other accoutrements of a Palmer, he took his leave of the nuns, di- * Pray. f Recovered.
172 SIR ISUMBRAS.
rected his steps once more to the " Greekish Sea," and, embarking on board of a vessel which he found ready to sail, speedily arrived in the port of Acre.
During seven yearsj which were employed in visiting every part of the Holy Land, the peni- tent Sir Isumbras led a life of continued labour and mortification ; fed during the day by the precarious contributions of the charitable, and sleeping at night in the open air, without any addition to the scanty covering which his pil- grim's weeds, after seven years' service, were able to afford. At length his patience and con- trition were rewarded.
After a day spent in fruitless applications for a little food,
Beside the burgh of Jerusalem He set him by a well-stream,
Sore wcpand for his sin. And as he sat, about midnight. There came an angel fair and brijrht.
And brought him bread and wine ; He said, " Palm(>r, well tliou be ! " The King of heaven greetcth well thccj
*' Forgiven is sin thine."
SIR ISUMBRAS. 173
Sir Isumbras accepted with pious gratitude the donation of food, by which his strength was instantly restored, and again set out on his tra- vels : but he was still a widower ^ still deprived of his children, and as poor as ever ; nor had his heavenly monitor afforded him any hint for his future guidance. He wandered therefore through the country, without any settled purpose, till he arrived at a " rich burgh," built round a " fair castle,'* the possessor of which, he was told, was a charitable queen, who daily distributed a florin of gold to every poor man who approached her gates, and even condescended to provide food and lodging within her palace for such as were distinguished by superior misery. Sir Isumbras presented himself with the rest j and his emaci- ated form and squalid garments procured him instant admittance.
The rich queen in hail was set ; Knights her served, at hand and feet,
In rich robes of pall : In the floor a cloth was laid ; ** The poor Palmer," the steward said,
** Shall sit above you all." Meat and drink forth they brought ; He sat still, and ate right nought,
174 SIR ISUMBRAS..
But looked about the hall. So niickle he saw of game and glee, (Swiche mirths he was wont to- see)
The tears he let down fall.
A conduct so unusual attracted the attention of tlie whole company, and even of the queen, who, orderhig " a chair with a cushion" to be placed near the Palmer, took her seat in it, entered into conversation with him on the subject of his long and painful pilgrimage, and was much edi- - fied by the moral lessons which he interspersed in his narrative. But no importunity could in- duce him to taste food : he was sick at heart, and required the aid of solitary meditation to over- come the painful recollections which continually assailed him. The queen was more and more astonished, but at length left him to his reflec- tions, after declaring that *' for her lord's soul, or for his love, if he were still alive," she was det£rmincd to retain the lioly ]^llmer in her pa- lace, and to assign him a convenient apartment, together with a " knave" or servant to attend him.
An interval of fifteen years, passed in the la- borious occupations of blacksmith and pilgrim, may be supposed to have produced a very con-
SIR ISUMBRAS. 175
siderable alteration in the appearance of Sir Isumbras ; and even his voice, subdued by dis- ease and penance, may have failed to detect the gallant knight under the disguise which he had so long assumed. But that his wife (for such she was) should have been equally altered by the sole operation of time ; that the air and gestures and accents of a person once so dear and so familiar to him, should have awakened no trace of recol- lection in the mind of a husband, though in the midst of scenes which paintully recalled the me- mory of his former splendour, is more extraor- dinary. Be this as it may, the knight and the queen, though lodged under the same roof, and passing much of their time together, continued to bewail the miseries of their protracted widow- hood.
Sir Isumbras, however, speedily recovered, in the plentiful com't of the rich queen, his health and strength, and with these, the desire of re- turning to his former exercises. A tournament was proclaimed ; and the lists, which were form- ed immediately under the windows of the castle, were speedily occupied by a number of Saracen knights, all of whom Sir Isumbras successively overthrew. So tireadful was the stroke of his spear, that many were killed at the first encoun-
1T6 SIR ISUMBRAS.
tcr; some escaped with a few broken boiie&'; others were thrown headlong into the castle ditch : but the greater number consulted their safety by a timely flight ; while the queen con- templated with pleasure and astonishment the unparalleled exploits of her favourite Palmer.
Then fell it, upon a day,
The knight went him for to play,
As it was ere his kind -, A fowl's nest he found on high ; A red cloth therein he sej/gh*
Wavand in the wind. To the nest he gan win ; His own mantle he found therein ;
The gold there gan he find.
The painful recollection awakened by this dis- covery weighed heavily on the soul of Sir Isum- bras. He bore the fatal treasure to his cham- ber ; concealed it under his bed ; and spent the remainder of the day in tears and lamentations. The images of his lost wife and children now began to haunt him continually ; and his altered demeanour attracted the attention and excited the curiosity of the whole courf, and even of the • Saw.
sin ISUMBRAS. 177
queen, who could only learn from the Palmer's attendant that his melancholy seemed to origi- nate in the discovery of something found in a bird's nest. With this strange report she was compelled to be satisfied,