Development of 
 
 Old English Thought 
 
THE DEVELOPMEllfIT 
 
 OP 
 
 OLD ENGLISH THOUGHT 
 
 BROTHER AZARIAS 
 
 OF THB BBOTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS 
 
 Semper aut discere, aut doccre, aut scribere dulce hdhui. Beda 
 
 }0 ^ 
 
 U 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1890 
 

 Copyright, 1879, 1889. 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The present volume traces the growtli and devel- 
 opment of Old English Thought as expressed in Old 
 English Literature, from the first dawnings of history- 
 down to the Norman Conquest. It goes back of the 
 written word to the life, the aspirations, and the 
 motives that gave it expression. It seeks in the 
 manners and customs, the religion and law and 
 government and international relations of the Old 
 English people, the sources whence the hterature of 
 that people derives its tone and coloring. For this 
 purpose, the author has laid every available source 
 of information under contribution. Dry land-grants, 
 antiquated law-codes, the decrees of councils, the 
 lives of saints, legend and history, the researches 
 of scholar and critic and antiquarian, have all of 
 them directly or indirectly been brought to bear 
 upon the subject, and have been made use of to 
 throw light upon the purely literary document. 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 Intending the work for a class-book, the author 
 has restricted himself to presenting the merest out- 
 line of his subject. He leaves it to the teacher to 
 HU in whatever details are lacking. 
 
 In sending forth this Second Edition, the author 
 would add one remark. Much of our Old En^hsh 
 
 o 
 
 Literature has come down to us anonymously. The 
 authorship is a matter of conjecture. Poems at- 
 tributed to Cedmon may have been written by Cyne- 
 wulf ; poems attributed to Cynewulf may have been 
 written by Aldhelm, and so on. Critics are divided. 
 But this is of secondary importance in a work deal- 
 ing rather with the history of thought than with 
 that of books and authors. At this distance, the 
 name without the personality is of slight moment ; 
 the main question is, How much of a people's 
 thoughts and aspirations does the document reveal? 
 For this reason we have concluded to call the pres- 
 ent edition a history of thought. 
 
 New York, Octoler SO, 1889. 
 
CONTEiTTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction ....... 1 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 The Continental Homestead . . . . 5 ^ 
 
 I. English and Aryan . . . . .5 
 
 II. Soil, Climate, and Character . . . . 8 
 
 III. Laws aud Customs . . . . .12 
 
 IV. Condition of Woman . . . . 23 
 V. The Mead-Hall . . . . . . 30v 
 
 VI. Language and Poetry . ■ . . . 33 
 
 VIL Philosophy . . . . ." 47 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Keltic Influence ...... 57 
 
 L Kelt and Teuton . . . . .57 
 
 II. Kymrio Kelt . . . . . 61 
 
 in. Gaedhil and Kymry . . . . .68 
 
 IV. Keltic Sentiment . . ... . 72 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 The Old Creed and the New . . . . .77 
 
 " I. The English in their Insular Homestead . . 77 ^ 
 
 II. Gregory the Great . , . . .79 
 
 III. Augustin and Paulinus .... 84 
 
 IV. Relapse and Recovery . . . . .88 
 v. Shadow and Substance . . . . 91 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Whitby ........ 97 
 
 I. St. Hilda ...... 97 
 
 II. The Story of Cedmon's Life Unraveled . . 100 
 
 III. The Themes Cedmon Sang . . .106 
 
 IV. The Secret of Cedmon's Success . . .110 
 V. Cedmon at Work . . . ... 114 
 
 VI. Cedmon's Influence at Home and Abroad . . 123 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Canterbury . . . . . . .131 
 
 I. Theodore and Aldhelm ..... 131 
 
 II. The Poem of Andreas . . . .136 
 
 III. Cynewulf . . . . . .146 
 
 IV. The Poems of Judith, Guthlac, and a Lover's Message 147 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Jarrow and York . . . . . • 152 
 
 I. Benedict Biscop . . . . .152 
 
 n. Beda . . . . . . . 153 
 
 IIL Ale win . . . . . .160 
 
 IV. Popular Philosophy . . . . .163 
 
 V. The Reflective Mood in Poetry . . . 170 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Winchester . . . . . . .175 
 
 L Alfred the Great . . . . .175 
 
 II. Spirit of Laws . . . . .180 
 
 IIL The Sentiment of Nationality . . . 186 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Abingdon . . . . . . .193 
 
 L The Two Alfrics . . . . .194 
 
 / II. Tenth Century Poetry . . . .200 
 
 Conclusion ....... 206 
 
THE DEYELOPMEKT 
 
 OF 
 
 OLD EIJGLISH THOUGHT. 
 
 mTRODUCTION. 
 
 1. A people's literature is a criterion of a people's 
 civilization. It embodies what is most enduring in 
 thought, and records what is best worth remembering 
 in deeds. A people may be conquered ; it may lose its 
 individuality ; it may change its religion, its govern- 
 ment, its soil ; but so long as its literature remains, its 
 growth and development, its rise and fall, its character 
 and genius continue objects of interest and teach a les- 
 son to all who wish to be instructed. 
 
 2. But literature is not all a people's thought. It is 
 only that which a people regards as its best and most 
 cherished thought. Thought has various forms of ex~ 
 pression. It is embodied in a people's laws and manner 
 of life, in its arts and architecture, in its philosophy and 
 religion, in its politics, its science, and its industry. 
 The idioms of its language speak of the richness or the 
 poverty of its thought. Literature, then, is one among 
 many forms of thought. That which one man writes 
 out, another lives out. The idea expressed in a poem 
 may be constructed in marble, or put upon canvas. 
 Each form of expression throws light on the other. 
 
 ^i 
 
2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 3. Literature is the outcome of the whole life of a 
 people. It is the creature of its day. To understand 
 it aright, it must be studied in connection with the 
 sources and influences that shape it. To consider it 
 apart from these were to misapprehend its nature and 
 its bearing. It were to lose sight of the real character 
 of thought. Thought is as subtle as the spirit that 
 gives it existence. It pervades every action of life. It 
 is the indispensable accompaniment of all that man 
 wills and does. It suggests his plans ; it gives direc- 
 tion to his deeds ; it regulates his industries ; it molds 
 his religion ; it underlies his mythologies and super- 
 stitions ; it explains his views ; it sings of his heroic 
 feats ; it gives wings to his noblest aspirations. Man 
 is so called because of his thinking power.^ 
 
 4. Thought is modified by circumstances. It gets 
 its shape from the place and time in which it is ex- 
 pressed ; it receives its coloring from the person by 
 whom it is spoken. 'No thought stands alone. It forms 
 an inseparable link between those that have gone before 
 and those that come after. A sentence expressing a 
 living thought, spoken or written at a given time and 
 in a given place, would at no other time and in no other 
 place receive the exact form it receives then and there. 
 Nor could other than the person speaking or writing it 
 give it the same tone as that it takes. 
 
 5. As with a single sentence, so is it with a whole 
 literature. Time, and place, and person, and manner, 
 and matter should all be duly considered. According to 
 the degree of a people's civilization, its political and 
 social position, its natural aptitude, and its educational 
 facilities, will it express itself. The stage of its growth 
 is to be taken into account. At no two epochs of its 
 
 ' The word man is pure Sanskrit, and means to think. 
 
INTKODUCTION. 3 
 
 social and political life will it use the same form of 
 utterance. 
 
 6. The history of a people's literature, then, is in- 
 separable from that of a people's life. It traces the 
 growth and development of the one and the other from 
 the first dawnings of time, and calls attention to influ- 
 ences on other peoples, and other peoples' influences 
 upon them. It is the aim of the present work so to tell 
 the history of English literature. It begins by describ- 
 ing English character, and English thought, as they 
 exist when first the English people comes upon the arena 
 of history. It then considers the growth and develop- 
 ment of that thought, and that character, as they ex- 
 pand under the influences of Kelt, Roman, Dane, and 
 Norman, and are fostered by the teacliings of Christian- 
 ity. It seeks the life-thoughts of an author in his 
 works, and of an epoch in its literature. 
 
 7. Throughout the present work this canon of criti- 
 cism is the guiding principle ; part of a people's litera- 
 ture is common to the human race ; another part is 
 common to the family of races to which the people 
 belongs ; still another part is peculiar to one or other 
 of these races, and borrowed from them ; the residue is 
 the people's own. And of this residue a portion is 
 impersonal, and belongs to the age in which it is ex- 
 pressed ; the remainder is personal, and peculiar to the 
 individual. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 Theee neighboring races invaded the island of Brit- 
 ain. They found it occupied by a kindred race known 
 as the Kelt. After a long and fierce struggle they es- 
 tablished themselves upon the island, drove the greater 
 part of the natives to the west, v/here they became 
 known to them as Welsh or aliens,^ subjugated others, 
 and finally imposed upon all their laws and government. 
 In their Continental homestead they were known as 
 Jutes, Saxons, and Angles or English ; in their new in- 
 sular home they called themselves Englishmen and their 
 language English.^ As such they will be known to us 
 from the beginning. All three races are of the same 
 stock, having the same religion, ruled by the same laws 
 and customs, and speaking the same language. Let us 
 determine their intellectual and social standing prior to 
 their making the conquest of England. 
 
 I. — English and Aryan. 
 
 The English inhabited that part of Europe now 
 known as the Schleswig-Holstein provinces and the 
 
 ^ Wealas — Walsch — Walloon — strangers. 
 
 ^ Englisc. The terra Anglo-Saxon is of modern date. 
 
6 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 Netherlands. This was their second homestead. Many 
 centuries previously they lived in their cradle-land in 
 Asia. They bear kinship with the Persian and Hindu ; 
 but their difference of occupation, the nature of their 
 soil, and the influence of climate so changed their na- 
 tures, and gave such direction to their thoughts, that it 
 were difficult to imagine them originally one people 
 with the Hindu, did they not retain evidence of the re- 
 lationship in their language, their mythologies, their 
 proverbs, their fables and fundamental ideas, all of 
 which prove them to be of the same stock. There is a 
 heredity of thought and speech as well as a heredity of 
 race. - In both English and Sanskrit words do we lind 
 palpable remnants of that heredity. Sometimes the 
 words were identical in sound and in meaning, as the 
 Sanskrit term nama, which is our word " name." ^ 
 Sometimes, while the word remains, its primitive mean- 
 ing becomes changed in one or other of the languages. 
 Such is the word path, which as a verb means "to go." ^ 
 So also, in our irregular verbs, we have forms which 
 can be accounted for only by a comparative study of 
 the Sanskrit. Take, for instance, the verb to he. The 
 forms is and am come from the verb as, of the same 
 meaning, and its first person singular, asmi ; the form 
 was is found in the verb vas, to dwell ; and the form he 
 is one with hhu, a word having also the same meaning.^ 
 And it is only in a language cognate to the Sanskrit 
 that we find the root-word of our comparative hetter. 
 " In the Persian," says Cardinal Wiseman, "we have pre- 
 
 ^ See Bosworth's Anglo-Saxon and English Dictionary^ p. 1*71, and 
 Max Miiller's Sanskrit Grammar^ p. 87. 
 
 ^ Benfey's Sanskrit- English Dictionary^ p. 508. 
 
 ^ See Max Miiller's Sanskrit Grammar for each of these verbs, pp. 
 277, 260, 245. 
 
ENGLISH AND ARYAN. 7 
 
 cisely the same comparative, hehter, with exactly the 
 same signification, regularly formed from its positive 
 behy good ; just as we have in the same language had- 
 ter^ worse, from bad.^'' * These specimens might be 
 multiplied, but they suffice to point our meaning. 
 
 The English, then, are a branch of the Aryan family. 
 Many hereditary traits have been transmitted to them 
 from the parent stock. That primitive people, the mother 
 race of Kelt and Teuton and Hindu, was devoted to the 
 cultivation of the soil ; the English have, at all times, 
 shown a fondness for the tillage of the land, except when 
 brought face to face with almost insurmountable difiicul- 
 ties, as the encroachments of the sea. That mother race 
 was passionately attached to Nature- worship ; the Eng- 
 lish retained their inherited love for Nature. They deified 
 the elements, even as did their sister peoples, the Greeks 
 and Hindus, and as did their Aryan mother prior to either. 
 With impetuous feelings rushed they to the hunt ; with 
 reckless eagerness they committed themselves to the 
 mercy of wind and wave. The Aryan was a people 
 fond of philosophical speculation ; the common prob- 
 lems and the nearly common solutions, inherited by 
 the Aryan nations, prove as much. But the English of 
 old became too besotted with heavy and coarse drinks, \ 
 which they indulged in to excess, to be able to specu- 
 late with the acuteness of Greek or Hindu. With the 
 Aryan, home was a sacred refuge, and all the family re- 
 lations were held in reverence as well as honor ; this 
 became, with the English, one of their most widely 
 cherished and deeply rooted sentiments. The Aryan 
 fell under the influences of his senses, to the clouding 
 of his spiritual parts ; so were the English greatly 
 
 ^ Lectures on Science and Revealed Religion^ lect. i, p. 30. 
 
8 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 wrapped up in their material natures. The Aryan was 
 given to poetry in which man and Nature were blended ; 
 so were the English, but with a difference. Living in 
 the land of the sunny East, the ancestral race rejoiced 
 in the harmonies and beauties of form and color ; but 
 in their woody, mist-enveloped land, the English lost 
 sight of these things ; their nature and disposition be- 
 came so changed that form and color ceased to be for 
 them what they were for the Greek, and even for their 
 Keltic neighbors of warmer blood and more vivid im- 
 agination — a passion. The weird, the indefinite, and the 
 mysterious appealed most forcibly to their imagination. 
 
 II.— Soil, Climate, and Character. 
 
 In their Continental homestead, the English lived 
 and worked and had their aspirations and their opin- 
 ions of things. To understand aright the Englishman 
 of modern history, we must observe him as he was two 
 thousand years ago. We must learn his ways and pene- 
 trate his thoughts. National traits of character are not 
 the work of a day ; they are the outcome of centuries 
 of slow, persistent action. Man begins by accommo- 
 dating himself to circumstances ; this is the first step 
 he takes in the formation of his manhood. Circum- 
 stances in their turn react upon him, his thoughts, his 
 ways, his dispositions ; this gives the final direction to 
 character, suggests divergence from the early home- 
 life, and creates a new type of race. In general, the 
 nature of the soil will determine the occupations of a 
 people ; its occupations will give color and shape to its 
 thoughts ; they, in turn, will mold the expression of 
 its literature. The native land of the Old English was 
 a land of fog and mist, of fat, muddy soil, and of slow, 
 sluggish rivers. It was covered with vast forests. It 
 
SOIL, CLIMATE, AND CIIARACTER. 9 
 
 was a land on which the sea was ever making encroach- 
 ments ; and in this respect it is still the same land. 
 Witness the untiring exertions of Holland to repel 
 these encroachments, and to recover lost ground, by 
 her system of dikes. But in the days of which we 
 speak there were no dikes. The result was, that at the 
 equinoxes the whole country became suddenly sub- 
 merged, and as suddenly the Water subsided. Tacitus 
 describes the country under one of these visitations : 
 " The wind blowing hard from the north, and the 
 waves, as usual at the equinox, rolling with a prodi- 
 gious swell, . . . the country was laid under water. 
 The sea, the shore, and the fields presented one vast 
 expanse. The depths and shallows, the quicksands and 
 the solid ground, were no more distinguished. . . . The 
 return of day presented a new phase of things : the 
 waters had subsided and the land appeared." ^ A peo- 
 ple so situated must needs accommodate itself to the 
 sea, and make it yield profit in proportion to the de- 
 struction it deals. On this principle acted the Old 
 English. They not only became accustomed to the 
 sea ; they loved it ; their greatest pleasure they found 
 in sporting in its waves. Their little boats of hide 
 danced about upon its rugged bosom as though they 
 were things of life. Beowulf would have been con- 
 sidered no fit hero for an Old English poem, had he 
 not, when a youth, ventured on the stormy ocean ; and 
 so we find him in friendly competition with Brecca, 
 striving to perform feats of valor. Hunf erth speaks : 
 
 " Then on the sound ye rowed, and thence with arras 
 The ocean covered, and the sea-streets measured ; 
 "With hands ye gripped and glided o'er the main ; 
 
 ' Annals, B. i., chap. 70. 
 
10 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 With winter's fury boiled the waves o' the deep ; 
 While on the waters toiled ye seven nights." ^ 
 
 But the sea was not only a pleasure for this people ; 
 f it was the sole inheritance of the younger members of a 
 family. They had no share in the land. They had to 
 win for themselves a livelihood and a position in society. 
 They were regarded as wargrs, wolves, outlaws. It is 
 related that every five years the Scandinavians sent 
 away their adult sons, reserving only those who were 
 to perpetuate the family. " The wargr shakes dust on 
 his father and mother, throws an herb over his shoulders, 
 and with a bound clearing the inclosure of his paternal 
 property, he seeks adventures afar."^ There are gener- 
 ally others of the same age and condition to accompany 
 him. And with light heart and cheery voice they cast 
 their boats upon the water and make their home thereon 
 for years to come. They live by plunder and piracy. 
 "They overcome all who have the courage to oppose 
 them. They surprise all who are so imprudent as not 
 to be prepared for their attack. When they pursue 
 they infallibly overtake ; when they are pursued their 
 escape is certain. They despise danger ; they are inured 
 to shipwreck ; they are eager to purchase booty with 
 the peril of their lives. Tempests, which to others are 
 so dreadful, to them are subjects of joy." Such is the 
 picture drawn of them by Sidonius ; * nor is it overcol- 
 
 * ihk git on sund re&n, thaer git eagor- stream, 
 earmum thehton, maeton mere-straeta, 
 rnundum brugdon, glidon ofer garsecg ; 
 geofon ythum weol, wintres wylme ; 
 git on waeteres aeht seofon-niht swuncon. — 
 
 Beowulf, viii., 1029-1038. 
 ^ Caesar Cantu, Histoire Univerf<eUe, vol. vii. 
 * viii., 6 ; Lingard, vol. i., p. 16. 
 
SOIL, CLIMATE, AND CHARACTER. H 
 
 ored. They were the terror of the sea. They were as 
 cruel and fierce as they were adventurous. They only 
 respected the fierceness and lawlessness as great as then- 
 own. They put the vanquished to death. While their 
 neighbors, the Visigoths, were content with two thirds 
 of the property,^ nothing short of extermination seemed 
 to satisfy them. It is to be expected that such a stormy 
 life would render any other mode of living tame and 
 monotonous. So we find them when in trouble seeking 
 solace in the pleasures of the ocean. Thus, Ragnar 
 Lodbrok loses his wife in death. He leaves his govern- 
 ment and his children in care of guardians, and betakes 
 himself to a life of piracy, " that in the society of his 
 vikings he might drown or mitigate his sorrow for one 
 whom he has so tenderly loved." ' Here are the fore- 
 fathers of the Drakes and the Raleighs. This manner 
 of living establishes bravery alone as the ideal of life. 
 Wisdom and prudence were only secondary by side 
 of this one quality. Sorli and Hamdir go to avenge 
 the fate of their sister. On their way they meet their 
 brother Erp. They ask him what help he would give 
 them in their enterprise. He tells them that as hand 
 helps hand and foot helps foot, so will he help them. 
 His prudent and truly wise answer is not in accordance 
 with their fierce mood ; they slay him and repent their 
 rashness at leisure.^ Could a people warring in such a 
 spirit know mercy ? No wonder that Urien calls Idda 
 and his twelve sons firebrands." 
 
 1 Ca3sar Cantu, Yoi. vii., p. 286. 
 
 2 Thorpe, Northern 2fytJiology^ vol. i., p. 109. 
 '^ Thorpe, loc. cit., p. 108. 
 
 * Flamddwyn. 
 
12 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 III. — Laws and Customs. 
 
 While the vikings developed the spirit of war, plun- 
 der, piracy, and rash bravery, their brothers at home 
 had their own peculiar way of liAdng. But it was not 
 altogether a lawless one. It was not as the dumb and 
 low herd. Wherever we fall upon a number of men we 
 find them an organized society, living together in obe- 
 dience to known and recognized laws and customs, and 
 each prepared to sacrifice to a certain extent his own 
 ease and happiness for the public good. Such was the 
 condition of the Old English. Their first social bond 
 was one of blood. They ranged themselves according 
 to kinship. They were divided into companies of ten 
 men, each of whom pledged himself to obtain repara- 
 tion from him who violated the common peace. This 
 was called a tithing. Each tithing had for head a tun- 
 gerefa. Every ten tithings was called a hundred among 
 the Saxons, and loapen-tmce among the English. The 
 hundreds were under a gerefa. Several hundreds com- 
 posed a shire, scir, commanded by a scirgerefa.^ Ev- 
 ery man was thus bound up with every other man in 
 mutual protection. He inherited the land to improve 
 and defend it. To abandon it was considered a crime. 
 The Salic Law ^ forbids a citizen to leave his birthplace 
 without the consent of every other citizen in it. The 
 Lombard Law of Luitprand pronounces penalty of 
 death on the one attempting to leave the kingdom.^ 
 And such, no doubt, was the universal custom in the 
 mother-homes of these barbarians. They had an heredi- 
 tary nobility ; but their king seems to have been chosen 
 from among the ablest of their chiefs, according to cir- 
 
 ^ Whence our word sheriff. ^ Titre, xlvii. 
 
 ^ Lib. iii., art. iv. 
 
LAWS AND CUSTOMS. 13 
 
 cumstances. Beda says of the ancient English that 
 " they have no king, but several lords who rule their 
 nation ; and when a war happens they cast lots indiffer- 
 ently, and on whomsoever the lot falls him they follow 
 and obey during the war ; but, as soon as the war is 
 ended, all these lords are again equal in power." ^ This 
 assertion might hold true of the marauding expeditions ; 
 it might even exactly represent the condition of the Teu- 
 ton races at certain epochs ; but it was not anciently uni- 
 versal. When Beda wrote these nations were in the con- 
 dition of the Greeks under an oligarchy, as Corinth un- 
 der the Bacchiadae, and Athens under the Eupatridae. 
 But Tacitus tells us that in his day the kings were cho- 
 sen from the nobility ; ^ and this assertion of Mr. Henry 
 Sumner Maine is confirmed by history : " With the dif- 
 ferences, however, that in the East aristocracies became 
 religious, in the West civil or political, the proposition 
 that an historical era of aristocracies succeeded an his- 
 torical era of heroic kings may be considered as true, 
 if not of all mankind, at all events of all branches of 
 the Indo-European family of nations." ^ But the kings 
 were among the Old English limited in their jurisdic- 
 tion by the nobility. These met in council, in the . 
 gaicdmr/,* and framed the laws that were considered 
 needful for the people.^ At a later date this same 
 assembly will be known as the Upper House of Parlia- 
 
 ^ B. v., ch. 10. 
 
 ^ " Reges ex nobilitate, duces ex virtute sumunt." — Gcrmania, ch.vii. 
 
 ^ Ancient Law^ p. 11. 
 
 ^ From gau^ a canton, and dingen, to deliberate ; hence the Old Eng- . 
 lish word thing^ meaning an assembly or judgment-room. Our modern 
 busting is hus-thing. 
 
 ^ Dans le prologue des lois des angles, il est dit qu'elles sont faitcs 
 omnium consensu. Cautu, Hist. Un.^ t. viii., p. 808. See the introduc- 
 tion to Alfred's laws. 
 
14 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 ment. And among the nobility one there was who was 
 the chosen confidant, the knower of secrets, run-wita, 
 and the counselor, rded-hora, as was ^schere that of 
 Hrothgar/ He will afterward be known in mediaeval 
 times as the king's favorite, and in modern times as the 
 prime minister. 
 
 The Old English recognized two orders of society, 
 the bond and the free. Possession of a certain amount 
 of land was the indispensable condition of a freeman. 
 " All that we learn," says Kemble, " of the original 
 principles of settlement, prevalent either in England or 
 on the Continent of Europe, among the nations of Ger- 
 manic blood, rests uj)on two foundations : first, the pos- 
 session of land ; second, the distinction of rank ; and 
 the public law of every Teutonic tribe implies the depen- 
 dence of one upon the other principle to a greater or less 
 extent." ^ This was the animating principle of conquest 
 among the English both in their old and new homes. 
 He was nothing who possessed not land. Life was 
 not worth the having without it ; therefore, the landless 
 one was prepared to stake his all in its acquisition. He 
 lives to acquire wealth and power ; he acquires wealth 
 and power to be held in estimation. For this purpose 
 each chief has with him a certain number of companions 
 who are pledged to stand by him under all circum- 
 stances ; to fight with him shoulder to shoulder in com- 
 bat ; to avenge his death, and on no account to survive 
 his fall in the fray. This was so in the days of Tacitus. 
 He tells us that he who survived his leader survived to 
 live in infamy.^ Death was considered preferable to 
 
 ^ Beoioulf, 11., 269-70. 
 ^ Saxons in Midland, vol. i., chap, ii., p. 35. 
 
 3 " Jam vero infame in omnem vitam ac probrosum, superstitetn 
 principi suo ex acie recessisse." — 3Io7'. Germ., xiv. 
 
LAWS AXD CUSTOMS. 15 
 
 such a life. Wiglaf reproaches the followers of Beo- 
 wulf for surviving their prince and for their cowardice 
 in not helping him to fight the firedrake ; and he adds 
 the penalty : 
 
 " By our land's rights must each man of tlie tribe 
 Idly wander forth ; then nobles from afar 
 Your banishment, inglorious deed, shall learn. 
 Far better death than live a life ofMamey ^ 
 
 This sentiment they brought with them to their 
 British home. At the death of Byrhtnoth, which oc- 
 curred about the year 991 a. d., many of the leaders ex- 
 press their resolution to die with their slain chief, 
 while they execrate one they had seen fly. One " vowed 
 in haughty words that he would not yield a foot's breadth 
 of earth, nor turn his back in flight since his superior 
 lay dead." "^ 
 
 The freemen were divided into eorls and ceorls. 
 In their language manhood was identified with eorl- 
 ship.^ Of the eorls there were two classes : the ethe- 
 lings or nobles, who enjoyed liberty, the right of hold- 
 ing property, and the power of jurisdiction ; and the 
 ahrimans, who were excluded from the malls or deliber- 
 ative assemblies and cultivated the soil. They need not 
 go to war ; they were free to pay a sum of money and 
 supply provisions in the stead. The ceorls or tributaries 
 possess individual liberty, but they are alienated with 
 
 ^ lond-rihtes mot 
 
 thaere maeg-burge monna aeghwylc 
 idel hweorfan, syththan aethelingas 
 feorran gefricgean fleam eowerne, 
 domleasan daed. Death hith sella 
 
 eorla gehwylcum thonne edwii-lif. — Beovmlf^ xxxix., 5765, et seq. 
 - Death of Byrhtnoth. Conybeare's Anglo-Saxon Poetry. 
 '^ Eorlscipe is manliness, courage. See Bosworth's Anglo-Saxon and 
 English Dictionary. 
 
16 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 the lands on wMcli they live/ Impoverished proprietors 
 who found themselves unable to respond to the heriban, 
 or call to arms, frequently renounced their civil rights 
 and placed themselves under the protection of a richer 
 proprietor.^ The serfs or slaves had no rights or privi- 
 leges. Their master held over them the power of life 
 and death. He was responsible for them as he was for the 
 cattle of his field. If their master was held amenable 
 before the law, they were to pay the fines for him. In 
 time of war, if it was considered expedient to make them 
 fight, they were liberated, as it was only a freeman who 
 could bear arms. 
 
 Nearly all crimes could be compensated for by the 
 payment of a certain sum of money. The only excep- 
 tions were treason, desertion, and poison. These in- 
 volved capital punishment, and the sentence was pro- 
 nounced, not by the chief, but by the priest. He was 
 the more immediate representative of the Author of life 
 and death. This sentiment might not be expressed ; it 
 certainly was implied. In case of homicide, which on 
 account of excessive drinking and the custom of always 
 bearing arms in public, was frequent, the family of the 
 slain man might either accept the compensation-money, 
 mmg-hot, or take upon themselves the avenging of his 
 death. The individual did not stand alone upon his 
 own responsibility. His kin were held accountable for 
 his acts.^ And for every offense against person or prop- 
 erty there was set down a fine. That against the per- 
 son was called werigeld ; that against property vndri- 
 
 1 Cantu, Hist Un., vii., p. 297. 
 
 ^ This was known as mundebund. 
 
 3 Thus, Ethelbihrt's laws decree that if a murderer leaves the coun- 
 try his kinsfolk shall pay half the fine. They are as early as 600. See 
 Tacitus, De Mor. Ger.^ xii. 
 
LAWS AND CUSTOMS. 17 
 
 geld? These old law-makers went into all imaginable 
 details. According to tlie tooth that was broken was a 
 man fined. For the wounding of the finger, the hand, 
 the arm, the head, the eye, the ear, was there a graded 
 list of fines. So too for property. Every implement of 
 agriculture, every domestic animal, every piece of fur- 
 niture, had its set price, if stolen, injured, or broken. 
 These laws they will afterward take with them into 
 England, and they will be attributed to Ethelbirht, or 
 Ini, or Hlothere, or more especially to Alfred. The 
 unwi'itten custom may have existed for centuries prior 
 to the written code. Laws are not invented, they grow 
 out of circumstances. And in fact what is English law 
 to-day but what it was under Alfred, what it had been 
 in the Continental homestead, a tissue of particular rules 
 based upon precedents ; these precedents finally resolv- 
 ing themselves into a judgment passed on a particular 
 case ? There is no science, no digest of principles. 
 The only improvement made upon the old order of 
 things is that the laws have ceased to be a simple rela- 
 tion of man to man ; and instead of being administered 
 in the name of private revenge or personal satisfaction, 
 they are laid down for justice's sake. The history of 
 all law resolves itself into the recording of the process of 
 this transformation. Formerly, society did not trouble 
 itself about the individual, once he had paid the required 
 amount to the king and the injured party.^ Nowadays, 
 it looks to his future good behavior. There is also a 
 difference in the manner of proceeding. Then, the ac- 
 cused was presumed guilty till he proved himself other- 
 wise ; at present, the law regards him as innocent till 
 he is proved guilty. To establish his innocence his own 
 
 ^ Grimm, Deutschen Rechis-alterihumer, 650. 
 
 ' Tacitus, 3for. Germ.^ xii., jEthelhirhtes Bdmds^ § 9, El. Schraid. 
 
18 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 assertion was not enough. He got his neighbors and 
 kinsmen to swear to the truth of a fact. In their Brit- 
 ish home, these neighbors will be set down as a fixed 
 number ; they will become the judges of the law in all 
 important cases ; and men will say that Alfred the Great 
 organized them into a jury. We have here the germ of 
 trial by jury, with all its advantages and disadvantages. 
 But in the old homestead there are other means for 
 establishing the truth or falsity of an accusation. One 
 of the most popular and universal among the Germanic 
 nations was the duel. In English law it is known as 
 the wager of battle. Velleius Paterculus speaks of dis- 
 putes among the Germans which were wont to be deter- 
 mined by arms.^ And he further says that they de- 
 spised the Roman method of settling difficulties by the 
 decisions of a law tribunal. Nor were the early Greeks 
 and Romans without this means of determining guilt or 
 innocence. Long after the practice had been abolished 
 the word in which it was expressed remained. With 
 both peoples the same word meant both to fight and 
 to judge or determine.^ This is to be looked for among 
 a warlike people. And when to this is added a spirit of 
 ferocious independence, such as burned in the breast of 
 the whole Teutonic people, we have all the conditions 
 favorable to making the duel a most popular mode of 
 trial. The primary idea underlying this practice was 
 expressed by Gondebaud in his reply to Avitus : " Is it 
 not true that in the wars of nations, as in private com- 
 bats, the issue is in the hand of God ? And why will 
 not His providence give victory to the justest cause ? " ^ 
 It is also true that to rely on God's direct interference 
 
 ^ Lib. ii., chap. 118 ; Blackstone, B. iii., § 337. 
 ^ Greek, nplveiv ; Latin, decernere. 
 3 Cantu Hist. Un., t. vii., p. 333. 
 
LAW.:^ AND CUSTOMS. 19 
 
 on all occasions is to tempt Him. However, the duel 
 pleased their savage natures ; they loved to witness it ; 
 they honored the champion ; the coward who craved ^ 
 for mercy they despised. This practice of the wager 
 of battle will be introduced in the new home ; it will 
 be revived by William the Conqueror ; ^ it will be ap- 
 pealed to in 1612 and 1631, and will be abolished only 
 in 1817.' 
 
 Another form of proving one's guilt or innocence 
 was the ordeal of fire and water. This was universal 
 among the Aryan nations. We find it in India. The 
 beautiful Sita proves her innocence by fire.* We find 
 it in Greece. The messenger tells Creon that he and 
 the watchman were ready to lift masses of red-hot iron 
 in their hands, and to pass through the fire, and to ap- 
 peal to the gods by oath that they had not buried Poly- 
 nices.^ To the Old English, to whom fire and water 
 were not only elements but deities, this mode of appeal 
 had its attractions. Surely the gods would not harm 
 the innocent one who would commit himself to their 
 mercies, as surely would they not let pass unpunished 
 the guilty one placing himself in their power ; there- 
 fore they placed confidence in this manner of trial. 
 
 Another feature of the Old English, and one which 
 they shared in common with other Teutonic tribes, was 
 their custom of possessing their lands in common, and 
 moving about from place to place. " In cultivating the 
 soil," says Tacitus, " they do not settle on one spot, but 
 shift about different places." And Csesar describes the 
 
 ^ Hence the word craven ; Anglo-Saxon, crafian. 
 
 2 Not introduced^ as Blackstone has it. Commentaries^ B. iii., § 338 
 
 3 59 Geo. III., c. 46. 
 * Ramayana. 
 
 5 Sophocles, Antigone, 262-266. 
 2 
 
20 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 process : " The magistrates and chiefs parcel out yearly 
 to the tribes and families united together such a quan- 
 tity of land and in such part of the country as they 
 deem proper, and the year after compel them to move 
 elsewhere." ^ Thus they were taught not to become at- 
 tached to any particular piece of land, lest their ambi- 
 tion and martial qualities lie dormant or fall into con- 
 tempt. This reveals another trait in their manner of 
 thinking. It was not this or that piece of land that was 
 the object of their desires : it was land, property, not 
 for its own sake, but as representative of their relative 
 standing in their respective tribes. " The system of 
 an annual changing," says Lappenberg, " or at least 
 changeable possessions of land, and the custom neces- 
 sarily attending it, of migrating, prejudicial as they 
 were to the solid interests of nations, nevertheless re- 
 quired activity and strength of mind ; the individual, 
 too, whose home afforded him no permanent settlement 
 would not respect that of a stranger ; while piracy, en- 
 nobled by stratagem and valor, is indebted only to 
 an established system of social order for its disgrace 
 and punishment." ^ It was a system calculated to 
 
 ^ "Neque quisqiiam agri modum certum aut fines habet proprios, 
 sed magistratus ac principes in annos singulos gentibus cognationi- 
 busque hominum, qui una coierunt, quantum et quo loco visum est 
 agri attribuunt atque anno post alio transire cogunt." — De Bello Gal- 
 lico, lib. vi., cap. 22. See also lib. iv., 1. The custom still exists in 
 the Hochwald of Thor, except that the division is not made annually. — 
 Lappenberg, ii., 323. 
 
 2 Englandunder Anglo-Saxon Kings, vol. i., p. 86. Professor Stubbs, 
 with his usual felicity, thus expresses the relations of the proprietor to 
 the land : "As the king is the king of the nation, not of the land, the 
 land is rather the sign or voucher for the freedom of its possessor than 
 the basis of his rights. He possesses his laud as being a full, free 
 member of the community; henceforth the possession of it is the attes- 
 
LAWS AND CUSTOMS. 21 
 
 strengthen individual liberty. And everything in their 
 customs and laws spoke of this sentiment. Each house 
 stood apart, surrounded by a piece of land that was re- 
 served for the use of the proprietor. No one dare enter 
 without blowing a horn or giving some signal of his 
 coming, otherwise he was regarded as an enemy, and 
 was dealt by accordingly. Each village was constructed 
 in the same manner. It was surrounded by a march or 
 mark of land, which was regarded as sacred ground. 
 He who would cross it, without giving a signal, was 
 looked upon with suspicion, and his every movement 
 watched. Everybody entering a house was received 
 with hospitality. Food and drink were provided for 
 him, and no questions asked till he was refreshed and 
 rested. " To injure guests they regard as impious ; 
 they defend from harm those who have come to them 
 for any purpose whatever, and esteem them inviolable ; 
 to them the houses of all are open, and maintenance 
 freely supplied." ^ But the host was held responsible 
 for the guest under his roof. On his departure, he 
 accompanied him to the limits of his vil, not through 
 motives of personal kindness or politeness, but to be 
 sure that his guest committed no act for which he, as 
 host, would have to suffer. In rehabilitating the Old 
 English, we must in a great measure forget the ameni- 
 ties of modern life, and think of a people with a selfish 
 nature uncontrolled by conventionalities. They were 
 ferocious, and their ferociousness spoiled the good ef- 
 fects of the priceless liberty of which they were justly 
 so jealous. It was a liberty totally regardless of time 
 and place. We find the Saxon portion of the Teutonic 
 race afterward carrying this spirit of personal liberty 
 
 tation, type, and embodiment of his freedom and political rights." — 
 Constitutional Hislory of England^ vol. i., p. 50. 
 * Caesar, De Bel. Gal.^ lib. vi., cap. 23. 
 
22 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 with them among other nations, to the extent that the 
 Lombards had to enact a law banishing those Saxons 
 who refused to abide by other than their own Saxon 
 laws/ 
 
 The men went armed, and so universal was the cus- 
 tom, man came to be known as the weaponed one — 
 wcepned. Thus, where the modern English use the terms 
 male and female, their ancestors of old spoke of the 
 wcepned 2iTidi vnfman^ In every public place went they 
 in arms. Whenever they held a council, they did so 
 armed. They looked more to the decoration of their 
 shields than to the adorning of their persons. To lose 
 them was a disgrace. They took the greatest pride in 
 decorating them in variegated colors. In Beowulf, the 
 shield is called a yellow disk — geolo-rand. They prized 
 their shield and their sword or spear as the instruments 
 of the sole occupation for which they lived. To war 
 was their ideal of life. Even after death they could 
 think of no higher form of existence than to drink beer 
 in the halls of the Valhalla, and fight their battles daily 
 over again. Therefore they never put forth their strength 
 except in the battle-field. And then the energy they 
 disj^layed was great. Nothing could resist it when un- 
 der disciplined leadership. They became furious. They 
 bit their shields and uttered the most horrid shrieks. 
 They considered themselves under the immediate* pro- 
 tection of the god of battle.' In their fury they 
 played with life and death. War they regarded as a 
 play. Their war-shield they called a play-shield— ^j»Ze<7a- 
 scyld. And among their synonyms for war we find asc- 
 plega, the sport of lances or spears, and hand-plega^ a 
 
 ^ Caesar, Cantu, t. vii., p. 315. 
 
 "^ Akerman, Remains of Pagan Saxondom. 
 
 2 Woden. Hence the old English word for madness, wodnes. 
 
LAWS AKD CUSTOMS. 23 
 
 contest.' But, the war over, they became inactive. 
 Occasionally they would hunt. They had a hound — a 
 ren-hund — of which they were very foncl. But, when 
 not so engaged,' they did nothing requiring physical 
 exertion. " The intrepid warrior," says Tacitus, " who 
 in the field braved every danger, became in time of peace 
 a listless sluggard." "" They were addicted to gambling. 
 When they possessed naught else, they staked their 
 persons and went into bondage to satisfy their creditors. 
 They also gave days and nights to deep drinking. As 
 a necessary consequence, quarrels were frequent and 
 dangerous. "Disputes," to quote Tacitus again, "as 
 will be the case with people in liquor, frequently arise, 
 and are seldom confined to opprobrious language. The 
 quarrel generally ends in a scene of blood." ^ In such 
 a manner of living we look in vain for a guiding princi- 
 ple. There is no restraint on individual impulses. Spirit 
 is entirely subject to physical instincts. But we get 
 insight into the germs of those vices that have been the 
 bane of so many individuals, and brought disaster upon 
 so many families in the new homestead centuries after. 
 
 lY. — Condition of Womax. 
 
 Here it may be asked how a people so brutalized 
 could hold woman in reverence, and regard marriage 
 as a sacred institution. Still Tacitus tells us so.* But 
 it is to be remembered that Tacitus is detailing the 
 manners and customs of the Teutonic nations, not sim- 
 
 ^ See Bosworth'a Didiortary. 
 
 ^ De Mor. Germ.^ cap, xv. 
 
 ^ Ibid^ xxii. 
 
 * " Quanquam severa illic matriraonia." De Mor. Ger.^ xviii. 
 " Paucissima in tam numcrosa gente adulteria ; quorum poena prae- 
 sens et maritis permissa." Ibid^ xLx. 
 
24 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 ply as a matter of history, but as a rebuke to Roman 
 corruption. He therefore writes with more point than 
 history warrants. In his desire to contrast he exagger- 
 ates. The Teuton of old led a life of hardship. His 
 was a simple mode of living. He knew few of the lux- 
 uries of an Oriental or a Roman civilization. His slug- 
 gish nature retained all its innate vigor. There was in 
 his daily life nothing to enervate him and render him 
 effeminate. But he entertained for woman no chivalric 
 sense of delicacy. A creature of impulses, he was in- 
 capable of restraint. He guarded her virtue simply 
 through the motive of right and property which were 
 vested in her. His sense of independence could not 
 brook encroachments upon his possessions, whether of 
 person or property. Hence he hedged woman in with 
 laws that* were as wounding to her modesty as they 
 were derogatory to her honor. They ignored her per- 
 sonality. They guarded her as they would have guarded 
 a pet animal or a fruit-bearing tree. Thus was it en- 
 acted that the freeman who presses the finger of a free- 
 woman is liable to a fine of six hundred pence ; of twelve 
 hundred if he touches the arm ; of fourteen hundred if 
 he places his hand above the elbow ; and so on through 
 a grade of fines, entering into details as disgusting as 
 they must have been futile. Nor were these laws con- 
 fined to the Old English and their neighbors. They 
 were generally used throughout the Teutonic races. In 
 the Bavarian laws, he who disarranges a woman's hair 
 or detaches her comb is fined a certain amount.^ ^^S' 
 islation on such a subject, entering into such minute 
 details, taking such stringent measures, implies great 
 abuse, and proves conclusively that woman was not the 
 object of respect to the ancient Teuton which some 
 ^ Caesar Cantu, Histoire Universellc, t. vii., p. 379. 
 
COA'DITION OF WOMAN. 25 
 
 would make her, and that she was simply cared for be- 
 cause she was to be the mother of the young heroes and 
 vikings who were to perpetuate the name and the 
 prowess of their fathers. Commenting on the punish- 
 ment inflicted on the woman unfaithful to her husband, 
 as related by Tacitus, namely, that her hair was cut, 
 and she was whipped ignominiously through the vil- 
 lage,^ Balmes remarks : " Certainly, this punishment 
 gives us an idea of the infamy which was attached to 
 adultery among the Germans, but it was little calcu- 
 lated to increase the respect entertained for woman 
 publicly. This would have been greater had she been 
 stoned to death. " ^ 
 
 Be this as it may, the more we study the condition 
 of woman in those early days, the less pleasing a pic- 
 ture does it present. She was the companion of man 
 in war, and his slave in peace ; she attended to all the 
 indoor and outdoor work ; ^ while he sat dozing in half- 
 stupor by the fire she was up and doing ; she accom- 
 panied him to the battle-field ; she stood by his side and 
 encouraged him in moments of greatest danger. Liv- 
 ing in such slavishness, she lost all the finer instincts of 
 her womanly nature. The ideal woman of the Sagas of 
 the North is one bloodthirsty, cruel, cold, heartless, and 
 fatally beautiful. In the Volsung Saga, Signi counsels 
 Sigmund to destroy her own children, since he does not 
 consider them valiant enough.* " The daughter of the 
 Danish jarl, seeing Egil taking his seat near her, repels 
 him with scorn, reproaching him with seldom having 
 provided the wolves with hot meat, with never having 
 seen for a whole autumn a raven croaking over the car- 
 nage. But Egil seized her, and pacified her, by sing 
 
 ' Be Mor. Gcr.^ cap. xix. ^ European Civilization, chap, xxvii. 
 
 \ ^ De Mor. Ger., cap. xv. •* Ssemunda's Edda. 
 
26 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 ing : * I have marched with my bloody sword, and the 
 raven has followed me. Furiously we fought ; the fire 
 passed over the dwellings of men ; we slept in the 
 blood of those who kept the gate.' " ^ Such is this 
 maiden's ideal of a hero and of life. A fancy so steeped 
 in carnage and crime could be possessed of a small 
 share of tenderness and humanity. ISTor is the ideal 
 woman of the Nibelungen-lied less fierce. Brunhild 
 forces her suitors to contend with her in the games of 
 throwing the spear, leaping, and hurling the stone, 
 under the barbarous penalty of losing their heads in 
 case of defeat. She afterward has Siegfried slain ; 
 in return, his wife, Crimhild, after brooding over her 
 wrongs for years, revenges herself by slaying his mur- 
 derer. She is possessed of as little humanity as her 
 rival. She asks Hagen where the fatal Hoard is ; 
 Hagen replies that he never will disclose it while any 
 of her brothers lives, whereupon she orders her broth- 
 er's head to be cut off, and, holding it up, exclaims, 
 " I bring it to an end." " Thou hast it now according 
 to thy will," said Hagen ; " of the Hoard knoweth none 
 but God and I ; from thee, she-devil — Valendinne — 
 shall it for ever be hid." In her rage she kills him 
 with her own hand.^ Not in representations like these 
 are we to find the ideal of true womanhood. Such 
 characters bear no other traces of their sex than the 
 name, and woman unsexed is a monster. No surprise 
 is it, then, to read of the English lady of primitive 
 times cruel to her servants and slaves.' The types set 
 
 * Apud Taine, vol. i., p. 27. 
 
 ^ Nibelungen-lied, ed. Simrock, p. 383. See also Carlyle's Essay 
 on Yan der Hagen's edition of this poem. 
 
 3 Wright's Hiaiory of Domestic Manna's and Sentiments in the Mid- 
 dle Ages, p 58. 
 
CONDITIOX OF WOMAN. 27 
 
 up for her admiration were such as belittled the tender- 
 ness and delicacy of feeling and thought that belong 
 to true wifely, motherly, and sisterly qualities. The 
 Edda has summed up the Teutonic estimate of woman 
 in these words : " Praise a woman when she is buried, 
 . . . praise a maiden after she is married." ^ This is 
 denying her all merit. But later woman will be eman- 
 cipated ; her rights and privileges will be recognized ; 
 she will be restored to full liberty of action ; a halo of 
 tenderness will be woven about her name ; the day will 
 come when she will no longer be ignored as heir to her 
 father's property, and we will read among the formulas 
 of Marculf a deed proclaiming that, as the Lord has 
 given a father daughters as well as sons, who love him 
 as well as they, he sets aside the former impious cus- 
 tom, and wills that after death they share equally in 
 the goods he leaves.'^ But, before this change takes 
 place, the whole framework of society must be altered. 
 Under the old order of things woman does not inherit be- 
 cause she is unable to bear the responsibilities attached 
 thereto, for with the property inherited came also the 
 feuds, the avenging of injuries, and the vengeance to 
 be taken for homicide,^ but in the new order, men will 
 have other things to live for than war and vengeance. The 
 power that will bring about that change is Christianity. 
 
 ' Hava-Mal. 
 
 2 " Dulcissimae filijB N. N. diutuma scd impia inter nos consuetudo 
 tenetur, ut de terra paterna sorores cum fratribus portionera non habe- 
 ant. Sed ego, perpendens banc impietatem, sicut mihi a Domino aequali- 
 ter donati estis filii, ita sitis a me gequaliter diligendi, et de rebus meis 
 post decessum aequaliter gratulemini." 
 
 ^ Thus the Thuringian law is explicit on this point: "Ad quemcum- 
 que haereditas terrse pervenerit ad ilium vestis bellica, id est lorica, et . 
 ultio proximi, et solutio leudis debit pertinere." — Canciani. Leg. Barb.^ 
 tit. iii., art. 5, p. 31. 
 
28 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 Among the well-to-do class of the Old English, from 
 the second to the fifth centuries, woman's chief occupa- 
 tion was, what it afterward became in the new home- 
 stead, spinning, weaving, and embroidering. The fine 
 for injury done the hands of a goldsmith and embroi- 
 deress was great/ These two avocations were held in 
 esteem. It is proof that gold and embroidered orna- 
 ments were manufactured and held in request. In Beo- 
 wulf, the palace is variegated with gold — gold-fdh ; ^ 
 the boar's likeness that the men bear on their cheeks is 
 gehroden golde ^ — adorned with gold ; Hengist's band 
 should supply as much treasure of rich gold — -fmttan 
 goldes — as would decorate the Frisian race in the beer- 
 haU ; * Wealthow walks forth under a golden diadem — 
 gyldnum hedge ; ^ Haereth's daughter is given, gold- 
 adorned — gold-hroden — to the young warrior ; ® whence 
 we learn that men and women both used ornaments of 
 gold. But this was after the days of Tacitus, for he 
 tells us that the use of gold and silver was unknown to 
 them, with the exception of those who had come in con- 
 tact with Roman civilization. Every house was divided 
 into two parts, the beer-hall or reception-room for stran- 
 gers and guests, and the female apartments, exclusively 
 used by the women. These were not always contigu- 
 ous. "For others," says Wright, and his description 
 holds true for the Continental home as well as for the 
 British, " and for the ladies especially, little rooms were 
 built outside, often standing apart from any other build- 
 ing ; and the Anglo-Saxons called this room a hur, which 
 in our change of language answers to our bower. '''' ' There 
 
 1 Lappenberg, i., 94. ^ 1., 2330. 
 
 2 Beowulf, 1., 621. « 1., 3900. 
 
 3 1.J 614. ' Homes of Other Days, p. 4 
 
 4 1.. 2190. 
 
CONDITION OF WOMAN. 29 
 
 they sewed, and with their servants and slaves attended 
 to their spinning and embroidery. But they ate with 
 the men in the large hail. When Ragnar visited his 
 friend Oston, at Upsala, the King's daughter went around 
 the hall presenting mead and wine to Ragnar and his 
 men.^ Rowena gives the cup to Yortigern "with all 
 the grace and neatness that might be, according to the 
 fashion of her country." ^ At the feast given to Beo- 
 wulf, where he never saw greater joy, the Queen, Weal- 
 thow, was present, and " at times surveyed the hall," 
 while Hrothgar's daughter from time to time bore the 
 ale-cup to the earls. ^ And on the day of his amval 
 Wealthow greeted the men in the hall, mindful of their 
 kin — cynna gemyndig — and first gave the cup to Hroth- 
 gar, bidding him be blithe, and afterward to Beowulf 
 and his companions. And she thanked God, most wise 
 in words — loisfmst icordum — that she could put her trust 
 in any earl for comfort against crime.* He partook of 
 the cup, and in reply said that he was resolved to per- 
 form deeds of noble valor against the monster, or, if he 
 could not subdue him, to await his last days in the mead- 
 hall. And the poem further relates that — 
 
 "The woman liked the Goth's proud speech right well; 
 His boasting pleased the joyful people's queen ; 
 Then she, gold-decked, went bj her lord to sit." ^ 
 
 These glimpses of a bygone order of things are valuable. 
 They resuscitate the past. We see the men and women 
 
 1 Thorpe, Northern Myihology, p. 113. 
 
 2 Polydore Vergil, History of England, b. iii., p. 113. 
 
 3 Thorpe's Beowulf, 11., 4040, et seq. * Ibid, p. 42. 
 
 ^ Tham wife tha Avord wel licodon, 
 gilp-ewide Geates ; eode gold-hroden, 
 freolicu folc-cwen, to hire frean sittan. 
 
 Beowulf, ix., 1282, et seq. 
 
30 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 of those old days move and speak before us. Let us 
 approach the mead-hall and learn more of their ways. 
 
 V. — The Mead-Hall. 
 
 Not very imposing looks the house. It is one story 
 high. It is built of wood. The use of stones for build- 
 ing purposes is not yet known. So identified is timber 
 with building, that the old English word for the act of 
 building is thnhrian. We enter; but we look in vain for 
 any of the comforts of a modern dwelling-house. Tapes- 
 try hangs upon the walls. That which decorated the hall 
 of Heorot was embroidered in gold : " Gold- varied shone 
 the webs along the walls, many wonder-sights to those 
 that gazed upon them." * Painted shields and the imple- 
 ments of war look down upon us. There are no chairs. 
 The luxury of a seat with a back to it is still Unthought 
 of.'* But we find stools and benches.^ If we intend 
 staying for the night, those same benches will be our 
 beds, with a pillow, some fresh straw, and perhaps a 
 bear-skin. Bedclothing was scanty in those days, nor 
 was it much needed; the men were better able to en- 
 dure excessive cold than excessive heat.* The floor is 
 
 ^Beowulf, XV., 1993, et seq. 
 
 '■* The word chair is not found in Old English ; it is of Gallic origin. 
 
 ^ Petersen thus describes an Old Northern guest-hall : " The hall 
 was an oblong parallelograro, having its two longer sides facing the 
 north and the south, with a door at each end exactly opposite the one to 
 the other ; the door was hung on hinges, and provided with a sort of 
 lock. A row of benches was on each side, the higher of which was 
 the most honorable, and in the middle of which was the high seat of 
 the master or chief, having his face toward the north. On the oppo- 
 site or lower bench was a somewhat lower high seat, exactly opposite 
 the chief's, for the noblest guest." — Datimark i Hedenhold. Apud 
 Thorpe, Preface to Beoivulf^ x. 
 
 * Tacitus, Germania, cap. vi. 
 
THE MEAD-ILVLL. , 31 
 
 covered with straw. Indeed, in the Old English way of 
 thinking, to strew is to straw. The words are identical.* 
 The table is made of plain boards, pieced together in 
 such a manner that they can afterward be removed.^ It 
 was called a hord.^ At an early day the round table was 
 used. It afterward became the custom that each guest 
 had a small side-table; but it was not permitted to eat 
 alone. One of the greatest blots on a man's character 
 would be the fact that he dined in private.* There are 
 no glass windows in this house into which we have 
 been introduced. We perceive only eye-holes — edg- 
 thyrl. The Old English do not yet know the use of 
 glass. At present, the birds can fly through the hall 
 in winter ; not only are the eye-holes open, but the 
 doors as well.^ The fire burns in the center of the 
 hall; there are no chimneys. Perhaps near by is a large 
 tree whose roots are under the floor, and whose branches 
 
 ' So also atreaw means a bed. See Bosworth. 
 
 '2 The following riddle of the Old English writer, Bishop Tahtwin 
 who lived about a. d. 700, tells how the table was broken up after hav- 
 ing been used : " The table, speaking in its own person, says that it is in 
 the habit of feeding people with all sorts of viands ; that while so doing 
 it is a quadruped, and is adorned with handsome clothing ; that after- 
 ward it is robbed of all its apparel, and when it has been thus robbed 
 it loses its legs : 
 
 ' Multiferis omnes dapibus saturare solesco, 
 Quadrupedem hinc felix ditem me sanxerit aetas, 
 Esse tamen pulchris fatim dum vestibus orner, 
 Certatim me praedones spoliare soleseunt ; 
 Raptis nudate exuviis mox membra relinquunt.' " 
 MS. Reg., 12th C, xxiii. Apud Wright, Homes of Other Days. 
 ^ Whence our words board, boarding, and the like. The original 
 of our table— <o?/?— was confined to the gaming-table. Tceflung meant 
 playing at dice. 
 
 4 Wright's Domestic Manners and Sentiments^ p. 19. 
 
 5 Beda, Ecclesiastical History, b. ii., chap. xiii. 
 
32 THE CONTIKENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 cover tlie roof/ In a prominent place is the boar's head 
 in honor of Frey.*^ The host occupies the highest seat, 
 at about the middle of the table. Near him sits his 
 wife. Upon the table are cheese, and bread, and cereals, 
 and broth, and meat, boiled or roasted.^ The meat is 
 generally salt. Pork was a favorite dish. A servant 
 holds the spit while each guest cuts from it a piece to 
 suit himseK. The use of forks is still unknown. Near 
 the fire are ranged the vessels containing the beer. The 
 beer-horn is first handed to the host across the fire. He 
 drinks first. Then all goes merrily. Conversation flows 
 freely. Many are lovers of social converse, haughty 
 warriors. In pleasant cities they sit at the feast and re- 
 count tales; then wine wets the man's breast-passions; 
 suddenly rises clamor in the company, and a various out- 
 cry is sent forth.* The host makes it a point of honor 
 to quell all disputes. At intervals the harper plays his 
 harp. He is also a poet. He sings the soothing lay, 
 the song serene. He recounts the tales of old. He tells 
 of battles fought and victories won. And, as the wine or 
 beer begins to warm the breasts of the hardy warriors 
 who listen to his lay, they feel the spirit of war rise with- 
 in them, and in fancy they fight their battles over again. 
 Then they talk of their deeds of prowess, of their hair- 
 breadth escapes; they laugh over their cruelties; they 
 rejoice in their wounds; for, to their thinking, he who 
 had received no wounds kncAV not the glory of living. 
 From the life we have traced, we can infer the kind of 
 
 ^ Miiller, SagabibliotheJc, ii., Saga Yolsungs, 
 
 2 Kerable, Anglo-Saxons^ vol. i., p. 357. 
 
 ^ " They had neither green crops nor cultivated fruits. The white 
 crop alone engaged their attention." Guest, Transactions Philological 
 Society^ May 7, 1852, vol. v., no. 122. A scholarly and valuable 
 paper. 
 
 ^ Exeter Book ^ ]). Z14:. 
 
LANGUAGE AND POETRY. 33 
 
 poetry most in harmony with its sentiments. Let us 
 examine the pieces that have escaped the ravages of 
 time. 
 
 VI. — Language and Poetey. 
 
 But first a word upon the language. It is the same 
 in which we now write. If it sounds differently, if it 
 requires a special study to understand it, it is because 
 English is a living language, and has received new 
 modes of expression, changed the pronunciation of old 
 words, and, in consequence, "their spelling ; for it has 
 followed the law of language laid down by Max Miiller, 
 in its twofold phase of phonetic decay and dialectical 
 regeneration.^ But Lappenberg tells us that, of the old 
 language, " about a fifth only is to be pronounced obso- 
 lete in the present English." ^ In its use of particles 
 the Old English resembled the Greek. ^ It also had, like 
 the same language, a certain facility of making new 
 compounds. This facility it has mostly lost. It seems 
 to have been transferred to its sister dialect, the Ger- 
 man. The Old English mind possessed but a small 
 share of philosophic acuteness. It saw the surface well 
 enough, and what it saw it expressed without circumlo- 
 cution. Language, in a more civilized condition of life, 
 seeks to veil certain ideas in less offensive words. There 
 is no attempt of this kind among the Old English. They 
 speak as they think ; and they think in the concrete. 
 There are no abstractions, no generalizations, no meta- 
 physical terminologies. Every word is uttered with an 
 individualizing force. It stands for a thing. There is 
 
 ' Science of Language^ vol. i., p. 51. 
 
 2 England under (lie Anglo-Saxon Kings, vol. ii., p. 306. 
 
 2 We find traces of a dual form, as in the Greek and Sanskrit, in 
 the pronouns ggt, ye two, gen. incer, dat. ac. iuc, you two ; and wgtj 
 gen. uncer, dat. ac. unc, we two. 
 
34 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 a certain bluntness about the language. It has no power 
 of insinuation ; it is not the language of address ; it 
 would never have become the vehicle of diplomacy. It 
 moves in a narrow circle of thought. The material, the 
 finite, the tangible, it has words for ; the spiritual it 
 can only approximate in the expression of. Such a 
 mind, using such a language, will not be prolific in 
 works of a philosophical character. It will make reflex 
 acts with difficulty ; it will not adequately express the 
 sentiments of the heart. It will, properly enough, 
 express emotion, courage, the impulses of nature, ac- 
 tion. 
 
 1. -We possess four precious relics of those Old Eng- 
 lish days that give us glimpses of the literary spirit of 
 the people who then lived. It has already been seen 
 that no festival was complete without the gleeman and 
 his harp. He traveled far and wide. He was every- 
 where received with consideration. And one gleeman, 
 who calls himself Widsith {cir. 370), after passing 
 through various lands, returned to his home and settled 
 down upon his paternal estates. There he recorded his 
 experience, told where he was, and how he was received, 
 together with his friend Scilling. It is thus we possess 
 The Scop, or Gleeman'' s Tale. ^ The author was well liked. 
 Often had he received a memorable present.^ " And," 
 he says, " I was with Eormanric a whole season. The 
 king of the Goths well cared for me. He — chief of the 
 burgh-dwellers — gave me a ring for which six hundred 
 sceats of gold were scored, by shillings reckoned ; and 
 this I gave to Eadgils — my beloved — when I came 
 home, to repay my friend — prince of the Myrgings — for 
 
 ^ Anglo-Saxon Poems of Beowulf, TJie Scop, or Gleeman's Sonff, 
 and The Fight at Finneshurgh: Ed. B. Thorpe, London, 1875. 
 2 The Scop, ii., 6, 7. 
 
LANGUAGE AND POETRY. 35 
 
 as mucli as he gave me land, my father's heritage. And 
 another ring gave Ealhhild — noble queen of lords, Ead- 
 "wine's daughter — and her praise I spread through 
 many lands, and told in song, where under heaven I 
 knew a most excellent gold-adorned queen, gifts dis- 
 pensing." ^ Thus did he extend the praises of his bene- 
 factors. His choicest words were for those who were 
 most generous. He takes pride in telling us that when 
 to the harp his voice resounded, many high-born men, 
 who well knew, said they had never heard better song.^ 
 Finally, he concludes with a burst of praise upon the 
 standing of the bard with every generous prince : 
 
 " Thus North and South, where'er they roam, 
 The sons of song still find a home, 
 Speak unreproved their wants, and raise 
 Their grateful lay of thanks and praise ; 
 For still the chief, who seeks to grace 
 By fairest fame his pride of place, 
 Withholds not from the sacred Bard 
 His well-earned praise and high reward ; 
 But free of hand, and large of soul, 
 Where'er extends his wide control, 
 Unnumbered gifts his princely love proclaim, 
 Unnumbered voices raise to heaven his princely name." ^ 
 
 2. Another poem of pre-insular date is the Ziament 
 of Deor. Deor is a gleeraan or scald of the Heoden- 
 ings * who lost his retainership. A rival was given his 
 place. The poet consoles himself in this poem. Others 
 suffered misfortunes and survived them, and why may 
 not he ? This is the burden of his song. He was dis- 
 
 ^ Ihid., 177-206. « Ibid,, 207, et seq. 
 
 ^ Conybeare's translation in Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry. 
 * The Heodenings are the Hegelings of the German epos of Gudrun. 
 Ten Brink, Uarhj English Literature, p. 60. 
 
S6 
 
 THE COXTINENTAL HOMESTEAD, 
 
 posed to look upon the bright side of life. He was 
 moreover, an independent character. He evidently 
 would not scruple to say disagreeable things. And no 
 doubt it was the asserting of his independence of 
 spirit, and the expression of some offensive remarks, 
 that led his chief to put another in his place. He is 
 silent about the cause. Were chief or rival in fault we 
 would hear it. However, his poem is remarkable as the 
 only one in regular strophic cast that has survived in 
 Old English literature, though many other such there 
 must have been. For this reason, we give our extracts 
 from it in the original, with Thorpe's literal version : 
 
 "Weland him be wurman 
 
 Wraeces cunnade, 
 
 Anhydig eorl 
 
 Earfotha dreag, 
 
 Haefde him to gesiththe 
 
 Sorge and longath, 
 
 Winter-cealde wra^ce, 
 
 Wean oft onfond, 
 
 Sitlithan hine Nithhad on 
 
 N"ede legde, 
 
 Swonore seono bende, 
 
 OnsyUan mon. 
 
 Thaes ofereode, 
 TMsses swa maeg. 
 
 Weland in himself the worm 
 Of exile proved, 
 The firm-souled chief 
 Hardships endured, 
 Had for his company 
 Sorrow and weariness, 
 Winter-cold exile, 
 Affliction often suffered, 
 When that on him Nithhad 
 Constraint had laid, 
 With a tough sinew-band, 
 Til' unhappy man. 
 
 That he surmounted, 
 
 So may I this. 
 
 We thaet Maethhilde 
 Monge gefriignon: 
 Wurdon grundlease 
 Geates frige, 
 The hi seo sorg-lufu 
 Slaep ealle binom. 
 Thaes ofereode, 
 Thisses swa maeg. 
 
 That of Maethhilde we 
 
 May have heard : 
 
 Were unreasonable 
 
 Geat's courtships. 
 
 So that from him hapless love 
 
 All sleep took. 
 
 That he surmounted. 
 
 So may I this. 
 
LANGUAGE AND POETRr. 37 
 
 We geascodan We have heard tell 
 
 Eormanrices Of Eormunric's 
 
 Wylfenne gethoht ; Wolf -like soul ; 
 
 Ahte wide folc He owned the ample nation 
 
 Gotena rices Of the Goth's realm ; 
 
 Tha waes grim cyning That was a fierce king. 
 
 Sset secg monig Sat many a warrior 
 
 Sorgum gebunden With sorrow bound, 
 
 Wean on wenan Calamity in expectation; 
 
 Wyscte genahhe "Wished enough 
 
 Tha thses cyne-rices That of that kingdom 
 
 Ofer cumen wsore. There were an end. 
 
 Thajs ofereode That he surmounted, 
 
 Thisses swa moeg.^ So may I this. 
 
 The poem has allusions to mythic personages, like 
 TV eland, or historic beings living in the dim past, like 
 Maethhilde. Eormanric we have found amono^ the 
 friends of the gleeman Widsith. And now let us 
 glance at the themes sung by these poets. Here is one : 
 
 3. A very ancient fragment of Continental song 
 among the Old English is The Fight at Finneshurgh.^ 
 Hnaef and Hengist, with sixty followers, are assigned a 
 hall in the home of Finn, who pledges himself not to 
 molest them. But the spirit of clan and craft triumphs 
 over the laws of hospitality ; Finn violates his pledge, 
 and during the night surprises Hnaef : 
 
 " Sweetly sang the birds of night, 
 
 The wakeful cricket chirruped loud ; 
 
 And now the moon, serenely bright. 
 Was seen beneath the wandering cloud, 
 
 Then roused him swift the deadly foe, 
 
 To deeds of slaughter and of woe. 
 
 * Exder Book, p. 377. 
 
 ^ Text: Grein, Bihliothek der Angclsdchsischen Poesic, b. i., pp. 
 341-343. 
 
38 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 "Now, beneath the javelin's stroke, 
 
 The buckler's massy circle rung. 
 Anon the chains of slumber broke : 
 
 That chieftain great and good, 
 He whose high praise fills every tongue, 
 
 First in valor as in blood, 
 The matchless Hengist to the battle woke." * 
 
 Hengist notices the torches and cries to his followers : 
 " Awake, my warriors ! hold your ground ; be mind- 
 ful of valor ; fight in the van ; fiight as one man ! " ^ 
 Each encourages the other. In this fragment we have 
 none of those encouraging sj)eeches, but in two leaves 
 of Waldere, a cycle of the eighth century, treating of 
 the deeds of King Theodoric and his men, lately dis- 
 covered by Mr. George Stephens, of Copeuhagen, we 
 find such a speech between two friends in fight : "^tla's 
 van-warrior ! let not thy courage fail thee to-day, for 
 the day is come when thou art doomed to lose thy life, 
 or thou long shalt have power among men. O ^If here's 
 son ! may I never say, my friend, that I saw thee at the 
 sword-play, through fear of any man, decline the com- 
 bat, or flee to fortress thy body to defend, although 
 many foes thy mail-shirt hew with bills, but rather 
 that thou sought to fight beyond the limits of valor." ^ 
 Many such speeches must have occurred in the former 
 spirited poem. As it stands it simply describes the 
 fight: 
 
 " Through hall did sound the din of slaughter-stroke, 
 The shield they could not grasp — the bone-helm lacked, 
 The floor resounded till fell Garulf dead, 
 Though not alone — fell also many foes ; 
 
 * Conybeare's translation, p. 179. ^ 11. 18, et seq. 
 
 2 See Grein : Beowulf ncbst den Fragmenten Finnsburg und Valdere. 
 
LANGUAGE AND POETRY. 39 
 
 The raven wheeled above, swart, sallow-brown ; 
 The sword-gleam flashed." 
 
 They fought five days. Never heard the poet that 
 sixty conquering heroes behaved so well. Never did 
 song requite as Hnaef requited his young warriors : 
 
 " Then sought the vanquished train relief, 
 And safety for their wounded chief." 
 
 The Fight at Finneshurgh was a special favorite 
 with the Old English. When great rejoicings fill the 
 hall of Hrothgar, after Beowulf has killed the fell 
 monster, Grendel, no more popular song can be sung 
 for the occasion than that of Finnesburgh. But who 
 is Beowulf ? 
 
 4. The grandest monument of Old English poetry 
 we possess is the poem of Beowulf} It is an epic dic- 
 tated by the feelings and thoughts of " the days of yore." 
 Those were times when personality was all ; the hero 
 counted for everything. There were no systems ; no 
 institutions for leveling up or leveling down the mass- 
 es ; no theory of equality ; no scientific, religious, or 
 literary proselytism. Personal energy was the lever 
 upon which men raised themselves above their compan- 
 ions ; and that energy was all exercised in the direction 
 of skill in war and the performance of feats of valor and 
 prowess. A hero according to the Old English heart is 
 Beowulf. Hrothgar builds a hall — of halls the greatest 
 — and gives it the name of Heorot. Therein are held 
 feastings and rejoicings ; the gleeman sings ; treasures 
 are dispensed and presents made. But a grim and 
 
 ' Text : T. Arnold, Beowulf^ a Heroic Poem of the Eighth Century^ 
 London, 1876 ; B. Thorpe, Anglo-Saxon Poems of Beowulf etc., Lon- 
 don, 1875. 
 
40 THE CONTINENTAL EOMESTEAD. 
 
 greedy being wlio haunts the moors, the fen and fast- 
 ness, is envious of such joy. He is called Grendel. He 
 enters the hall when the earls have retired to rest ; 
 rugged and fierce, he takes thirty of their number ; and 
 in his prey exulting goes to his home. Then was there 
 much sorrow in Heorot. During twelve winters' tide 
 did Hrothgar endure the frequent incursions of this foul 
 fiend, till his land was despoiled of its best men, and 
 empty stood the greatest of houses. Then was it noised 
 abroad how Grendel waged war against this good prince 
 and made havoc in his peaceful dominions. It came to 
 the ears of Beowulf. He sets out with his companions 
 to conquer the fiend. He is received with great rejoic- 
 ings by Hrothgar and his queen. Kight comes and the 
 men seek their beds. When all is still, Grendel arrives. 
 There had arisen in him hope of a dainty glut. And 
 first he takes a sleeping warrior, bites his bone-casings 
 — his skin and flesh — drinks his blood ; and having de- 
 voured him feet and hands, he takes hold of Beowulf. 
 But soon he discovers that he has never encountered a 
 stronger hand-grip ; he grows sore afraid, and would 
 fain return to his haunt ; but the hero holds him : 
 
 " These warders strong waxed wrathful, fiercer grew, 
 The hall resounded ; wonder much there was 
 That it so well withstood the warring beasts — 
 
 • That fell not to the earth this fair land-house. 
 
 And then arose strange sound ; upon the Danes 
 Dire terror stood, of all who heard the whoop — 
 The horrid lay of God's denier, 
 The song that sang defeat and pain bewailed — 
 Heirs captive's lay — for in his grasp too iirm 
 Did he, of men tlie strongest, hold his prey." * 
 
 ^Beoivulf, xi., 1543-1585. 
 
LANGUAGE AND POETRY, 41 
 
 The noise arouses the men ; they take their swords ; 
 but no weapon has effect upon this monster. Still in 
 his efforts to get away his sinews spring asunder ; the 
 bone-casings burst ; he leaves his hand, and death-sick 
 flees to his joyless dwelling ; for he knows that his 
 days are numbered. Next day were great rejoicings 
 in Heorot. Thus ends the first encounter of Beo- 
 wulf. 
 
 We learn nothing of the shape, or size, or nature of 
 this mysterious being. That is one of the characteris- 
 tics of the Old English mind — and one it shares in com- 
 mon with all the Teutonic tribes — that it delights in 
 the mysterious, the undefined, the horrible. In this 
 respect it contrasts with the Greek intellect. Only the 
 sensuous, the palpable, the thing of definite form and 
 beauty, has for it any attraction. Its education is a 
 constant struggle to bridge over all mystery, to cover 
 all deformity, to give everything a name of good omen, 
 to see but the sunshine of life. Homer describes Mene- 
 laus as wounded. He forgets the pain and anguish to 
 compare the limbs of Menelaus, stained with gore, to 
 the ivory tinged with purple. The image is too much 
 in accordance with his thoughts to drop it immediately ; 
 he tells how the Carian woman lets it lie in her cham- 
 ber, an object of desire to many a charioteer ; but it is 
 intended as an ornament for the king alone, a decora- 
 tion to the steed and a glory to the rider. ^ The Greek 
 did not live in a land of mist and fog, of marsh and fen 
 and dense forest. He had the sunshine in all its bril- 
 liancy ; he had a bright atmosphere and clear-cut land- 
 scape ; therefore his eye was educated to color. With 
 the Old English it was different. In JBeoicidf, the man, 
 the monster, the deed performed are all before us ; but 
 ^ Iliad, ii., 140, et scq. 
 
42 THE CONTINENTAL IIOMESTIAD. 
 
 the distinct coloring, the picturesque detail, had no 
 existence, even in the mind of the poet. 
 
 The labors of Beowulf are not yet ended. Grendel 
 has a monster-mother, who is bound to be revenged. 
 This is a repetition of the northern conception of " the 
 devil and his dam." She comes the night following 
 and bears away the king's chief counselor. In sorrow 
 the king, his retainers, and Beowulf go to the pool 
 which they know to be her residence. The flood boiled 
 with blood ; the folk surveyed the hot gore ; the horn 
 sang a death-song. Beowulf plunges in ; the ocean 
 surge received the battle warrior ; it was a day's space 
 ere he could perceive the ground-plain. Forthwith the 
 she-monster descried him, seized him in her horrid 
 clutches, and to her dwelling bore the prince of rings. 
 He aimed a powerful stroke at her with his war-bill, so 
 that on her head the sword sang a horrid war-song. Then 
 found he that the war-beam would not bite, and in sore 
 straits was he ; but trusting in his strength he drags 
 the fiend to the floor ; again she overthrows him ; but 
 rescuing himself from her, he perceives an old Eotenish 
 sword, the pride of warriors, the work of giants. This 
 he wields and angrily strikes, so that it grips her neck, 
 breaks her bone-rings, and passes through her fated body. 
 On the ground she sank. Beowulf was once more tri- 
 umphant. Heorot was again secure. Joy reigned ; the 
 gleeman's song was heard ; the bowl went round ; pres- 
 ents wete dispensed. 
 
 Here the poem naturally ends. But the poet con- 
 nects with the name of Beowulf another epic cycle as 
 old as the Aryan race. It is that of the dragon. It is 
 found in Grecian and Roman as well as in Teutonic 
 sagas. ^ It is especially an English favorite. We have 
 
 ' The golden fleece is guarded by. dragons. A dragon brood kill 
 
LAXGUAGi: AND POETRY. 43 
 
 here one form of it ; but a form more popular still will 
 be that known as St. George and the dragon. Into the 
 present version the poet weaves contemporary and his- 
 torical allusions and occurrences.^ But the portions 
 treating of the dragon's depredations and his slaying are 
 remnants of the older saga. For three hundred years 
 had the dragon guarded his treasures unmolested. At 
 last they are discovered and some of them stolen. The 
 hoard-ward's wrath is aroused. No longer would he 
 abide within his mound ; but forth he sallied, burning 
 all before him. Nothing living would the hostile air- 
 flier leave in his hate to men.'^ The land-dwellers he 
 enveloped in fire and burning. Beowulf resolves to de- 
 stroy him single-handed. " The prince of rings disdained 
 to seek the wide-flier with a numerous band ; he dread- 
 ed not the conflict." ^ Arming himself, with a few 
 trusty comrades he seeks the dragon's haunt : 
 
 " Firm rose the stone -wrought vault, a living stream 
 Burst from the barrow, red with ceaseless flame 
 That torrent glowed ; nor lived there soul of man 
 Might tempt the dread abyss, nor feel its rage. 
 So watched the fire-drake o'er his hoard — and now 
 Deep from his laboring breast the indignant Goth 
 Gave utterance to the war-cry. Loud and clear 
 Beneath the hoar stone rung the deafening sound, 
 And strife uprose : the watcher of the gold 
 Had marked the voice of man. First from his lair, 
 Shaking firm earth, and vomiting, as he strode, 
 A foul and fiery blast, the monster came. 
 Yet stood beneath the barrow's lofty side 
 
 Oftnitt in the Heldenhuch. Martial compares a miser to a dragon 
 guarding its hoard. (Lib. 12, ep. 45.) 
 
 ^ Cantos xxxiv., xxxv. This has misled Mr. T. Arnold and others 
 as to the real antiquity of the poem. 
 
 2 xxxiii., 1., 4620., Thorpe's edition. 3 468O. 
 
 3 
 
44 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 The Goth's unshaken champion, and opposed 
 To that infuriate foe his full-orbed shield. 
 Then the good war-king bared his trenchant blade : 
 Tried was its edge of old, the stranger's dread, 
 And keen to work the foul aggressor's woe. 
 
 The kingly Goth 
 Eeared high his hand, and smote the grisly foe, 
 But the dark steel upon the unyielding mail 
 Fell impotent, nor served its master's need 
 Now at his utmost peril. Nor less that stroke 
 To maddening mood the barrow's warder roused : 
 Outburst the flame of strife, the blaze of war 
 Beamed horribly; still no triumph won the Goth, 
 Still failed his keen brand in the unequal fray. ... 
 Again they met — again with freshened strength 
 Forth from his breast the unconquered monster poured 
 That pestilent breath. Encompassed by its flames, 
 Sad jeopardy and new the chieftain held." * 
 
 But with the assistance of Wiglaf, his trusty com- 
 panion, he succeeds in killing the monster, and soon 
 after dies of the poisoned wounds he has received. 
 " No sound of harp shall the warrior awake ; but the 
 dusky raven ready o'er the fallen shall speak many 
 things — to the eagle shall tell how he fared at his food 
 while with the wolf he spoiled the slain." ^ Such is the 
 lament made over the dead hero. 
 
 The version of this poem now known is not that 
 sung on the seashore and in the primeval forests of the 
 Continental homestead. It is a more modern version. 
 The unknown bard that wrote it was a Christian. None 
 other could have spoken of Cain ; none other would have 
 called the people heathens ; none other would have said 
 
 ^ CouTbeare's translation, Rlustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry^ 
 p. 69. 2 xli.^ 6041. 
 
LANGUAGE AND I'OETEY. 45 
 
 that they knew not the Creator.^ He was in all proba- 
 bility a monk. No one else could scarcely attempt to 
 preach after this fashion : "Woe to him who shall 
 through cruel malice thrust a soul into the fire's em- 
 brace ; let him not look for comfort."^ No one else 
 would lay down so nicely the doctrine of repentance as 
 he does in these words : "It was no longer than one 
 night when he committed more murders, and mourned 
 not for his enmity and crime ; he was too confirmed in 
 them." ^ He also has glimpses of true poetry : here is a 
 genuine beam : 
 
 "When sorrow on him came, and pain befell, 
 He left the joy of men and chose GocVs lights * 
 
 But who this poet-soul was, we know not ; when he 
 lived we can only conjecture. That he wrote this ver- 
 sion of JSeoiculf after Cedmon ^ had sung of the crea- 
 tion is certain ; for to his poem he alludes in unmis- 
 takable language when he represents the gleeman sing- 
 ing of the origin of things : how the Almighty wrought 
 the earth ; how he set the sun and moon to give light 
 to those dwelling on land ; how he created plant and 
 animal.® There are many theories concerning the poem. 
 Thorpe considers it " a metrical paraphrase of an heroic 
 saga, composed in the southwest of Sweden, in the old 
 common language of the North, and probably brought 
 to this country during the sway of the Danish dynasty.' 
 Haigh rejects Thorpe's view, considers the poem en- 
 
 ^ Beowulf ii., 360, et seq. 
 
 3ii., 273-5. 
 
 * He tlaa mid thaere sorge ; tha him sio sar belamp, 
 
 gum-dredm ofgeaf; Godes leoht cjeceds. — xxxv., 4928-32. 
 6 A. D. 670. e I., 180-198. ' Beowulf, Preface, ix. 
 
40 THE CONTIXENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 tirely English, both, in scenes, incidents, and personages, 
 and believes it to have been composed in England.* 
 Henry Morley is disposed to follow him. He says he is 
 almost tempted to make Bowlby Cliff the ness on 
 which Beowulf was buried ; " Bowlby then being read 
 as the corrupted form of Beowulf es-by." ^ Kemble was 
 at first inclined to regard the poem as historical, and so 
 expressed himself in the preface to the text w^hich he 
 published in 1833. But in the preface to his transla- 
 tion issued in 1837, he announced an entirely new the- 
 ory. With Grimm, he regards it as mythic. He finds 
 that the old Saxons called their harvest-month Beo or 
 Bewod, after the god of fertility. This god he identi- 
 fies with Beowulf. The poem will not bear out the sup- 
 position. It deals with historical personages. Some of 
 them can be identified with well-known records. Thus, 
 Hygelac is spoken of by Gregory of Tours, under the 
 Frankish form of Chochilaic, just as Hiilfreich is called 
 Chilperic.^ According to Thorkelin, Beowulf was a liv- 
 ing personage also. He assigns, upon authority other 
 than his own, the year of his death as a. d. 340. Now, 
 the name of Beowulf must have been popular in song 
 and story ; and as it receded in the past, to the deeds 
 of valor of which its bearer was the author were added 
 others of a marvelous and mysterious character. Tra- 
 ditions of time immemorial were strung upon it ; these 
 were sung in the old homestead ; they were remembered 
 
 ^ The Anglo-Saxon Suffcis. This is also the opinion of Mr. T. 
 Arnold. He considers it a West-Saxoii poem of the eighth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 2 A First Sketch of English Literature, p. 14. 
 
 ^ His gestis Dani cum rege suo, nomine Chochilaicho, evectu navali 
 per mare Gallias appetunt. HI., 8. It may be remarked with Ett- 
 miiller that all the Northern pirates were sometimes called Danes. See 
 Thorpe, Int., xxv. 
 
pniLOSOPHY. 47 
 
 in the new ; but the scenes of the ancestral home be- 
 coming effaced from memory, men sought in the new 
 country to give them " a local habitation and a name." 
 Never seeing the ness upon which the hero was buried, 
 and a mound erected to his honor, they are only fol- 
 lowing their instincts in designating a place to which 
 they transfer the interest vested in the old scenes. As 
 the poem passes down from mouth to mouth, the de- 
 scriptions become changed to suit the newly designated 
 places. Such, in our opinion, was the fate of Beowulf. 
 When the Danish dynasty held sway, such a poem was 
 calculated to be recited with renewed interest, and at this 
 time we conceive it to have received its present form.^ 
 
 In the poem of Beowulf, especially in those parts of 
 it savoring of the old Continental homestead, we find 
 an absence of a spiritual and a spiritualizing ideal. 
 Physical prowess is personified in the hero. The peo- 
 ple are hero-worshipers. The assistance of God al- 
 luded to is an afterthought improvised by the Christian 
 poet. No visible intervention of supernatural powers 
 fills the narrative, as in Homer ; no sentiment of chiv- 
 alry or love ; but the seeking of a mere selfish glory. 
 Brute force is the ideal ; Beowulf is the war-beast. It 
 is the poem of a people living to war, glorying in bat- 
 tle, and dying to renew their fights and repeat their 
 deeds of valor within the halls of Valhalla. 
 
 VII. — Philosophy. 
 
 Such is the literature of the Old English. And 
 now we come to their philosophy. Let it not be said 
 that they possessed none. There is no people without 
 a philosophy, for all have reason, and all ask the why 
 
 ' Thorpe considers the only MS. extant (MS. Cott. Vitellius, A. 15), 
 " to be of the first half of the eleveatb century." — Beovoulj\ Preface, xi. 
 
48 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 and wherefore of things. Whence came I ? who made 
 this earth ? these stars ? the seasons ? the heat and the 
 cold? the winds and the rain, and the refreshing 
 springs and cooling streams ? These are questions that 
 occur to the most primitive people. And sometimes 
 they even reflect on the more difiicult issues of life and 
 death. They ask : Why am I here ? what is the mo- 
 tive of life ? who guides, directs the actions of men ? 
 Are they the result of chance, or is there order in 
 events ? The Old English reflected on all these ques- 
 tions, and had their answers for them. Their sagas, 
 and still more their mythology, are so many efforts to 
 solve these ever-recurring thoughts. They themselves 
 may not have suggested the solutions ; in all probability 
 they did not ; from other and more distant sources did 
 they come. They are to be found in the Scandinavian 
 mythology of the Edda. Composed by a people who 
 abandoned their country and sought in the cold regions 
 of Iceland a home in which they might cling to their 
 traditions and their gods, this book is the one certain 
 source whence we can draw their solutions of the 
 world-riddle. It was the common inheritance of the 
 Angle and the Saxon as well as of the Norwegian. 
 Malte Brun recognizes the fact, but accounts for it by 
 supposing that the Scandinavians are descended " from 
 a primitive race, indigenous to the countries which it 
 still inhabits"; ^ and that it was this primitive race that 
 peopled the South from the North. The truth is the 
 reverse of this. The first migrations were northward. 
 Those from the North in after-ages were a reaction and 
 a compensation of the primitive migrations. We dis- 
 tinguish two of them. The oldest has left its traces in 
 the traditions of giants and dwarfs, of magical influ- 
 1 Geography, vol. iii., bk7 cxlvii., p. 1038. 
 
PHILOSOPHY. 49 
 
 ence and communication with evil spirits. The later is 
 that distinctly recorded by Snorri Sturleson in the Prose 
 Edda. While the local coloring and specific naming 
 are his, the tradition is substantially that believed by 
 his forefathers. He tells us : " Othin had spaedom, and 
 so also his wife ; and from this knowledge found he out 
 that his name would be held high in the north part of 
 the world, and worshiped beyond all kings ; for this 
 sake was he eager to go on his way from Tyrkland. 
 . . . But whithersoever they fared over the land, 
 much fame was said of them, so that they were thought 
 to be liker gods than men, and they stayed not their 
 faring till they came northward into that land that is 
 now called Saxland ; ^ there dwelt Othin a long time, 
 and had that land far and wide for his own. . . . 
 These Asa took to them wives there within the land, 
 but some for their sons, and these races waxed full 
 many ; so that about Saxland, and all thence about the 
 north country they spread, so that the tongue of the 
 Asiamen was the true tongue over all these lands ; and 
 men deem from the way that the names of these fore- 
 fathers are written, that these names have belonged to 
 thia tongue, and the Asa brought the tongue hither into 
 the north country : into Norway, into Svithiod, into 
 Denmark, and into Saxland. . . ." ^ One fact under- 
 lies this remarkable passage, and it is all we are con- 
 cerned with at present, that the mythology of the ^sir 
 was universal throughout the Teutonic nations. Let us 
 see how they questioned and how they answered on the 
 great problems of life, creation, and thought. 
 
 ^ The whole of Germany was frequently known by the old writers 
 as Saxland. 
 
 2 Foreword to the Edda. Translation of G. W. Dasent, pp. 109-111. 
 Stockholm, 1842. 
 
50 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 They contemplated the heavens and the earth, and 
 they wished to account for their existence. This ques- 
 tion they solved on the same principle on which the 
 Chaldeans of old had solved it. The Chaldean found, 
 in two primary elements, the igneus and the humid, the 
 source of all things ; from their union did he conceive 
 all things to spring.^ The Old English imagined all 
 things also to spring from the union of heat and cold. 
 We are told that from Niflheim,'^ the home of mist, 
 issued cold, and from Muspellzheim, the home of fire, 
 issued heat. The heat melted the ice; the drops formed 
 thereby, through His power who sent forth the heat, 
 received life, and a being, called Ymir, was produced. 
 We are further told that while Ymir slept, offspring 
 came forth from him.^ This account of the origin of 
 man nearly coincides with the Hindu, which represents 
 the various classes as si3ringing respectively from the 
 heads, the arms, the thighs, and the feet of Brahma.* 
 But there is a difference. Brahma is the Author of all 
 things, while back of Ymir seems to be a Creator. In 
 fact, Ymir is the primeval chaos. His other name is 
 
 Aurgelmir.^ 
 
 " When Ymir lived 
 Was sand, nor sea, 
 Nor cooling wave ; 
 No earth was found, 
 Nor heaven above ; 
 One chaos all, 
 And nowhere grass." ® 
 
 * Lenormaut, Legend of Semiramis, p. 62. 
 ^ Nefl — vecpiXf] — nebula. 
 
 3 Thorpe, Northern Mythology ^ vol. i., p. 3. 
 
 * Manavadharmasastra. 
 
 ^ Aur — matter, mud, clay. 
 ^ Voluspd. 
 
PHILOSOPHY. 51 
 
 So we are further told that Bor's sons, having slain 
 Ymir, carried his body to Ginnunga-gap — the yawning 
 gap or the abyss of pure space — and formed of it the 
 earth; of his blood they made the sea and fresh waters; 
 of his bones the mountains ; of his teeth and grinders 
 and those bones that were broken, they made stones and 
 pebbles ; in the great impassable ocean, formed of the 
 blood that flowed from his wounds, they set the earth 
 around which it circles ; of his skull they formed the 
 heavens, which they set up over the earth with four 
 regions, and under each corner placed a dwarf, the 
 names of whom were Austri, Yestri, I^orthri, and 
 Southri — the four points of the compass ; of his brain 
 they formed the heavy clouds ; of his hair the vege- 
 table creation ; and of his eyebrows a wall of defense 
 against the giants ; this they placed round Midgard, the 
 midmost part of the earth, the dwelling-place of the 
 sons of men/ In this manner, the saga goes on to say 
 how sun and moon and stars received their proper 
 places in Nature, and how the days and the years came 
 to be reckoned. In this first lisping of philosophy the 
 problems of time and space are considered. The heav- 
 enly origin of things is kept in view ; knowledge comes 
 from above. But there is a principle of evil in things 
 of earth ; for Ymir, the shapeless mass out of whom 
 hill and dale, river and ocean were framed, " was evil, 
 together with all his race." ^ And this evil race dwelt 
 in Jotenheim. They were giants and the sworn ene- 
 mies of the JEsir. When Ymir was killed all the 
 giants were drowned, save Bergelinir and his wife, who 
 escaped in a chest, and thus continued the hateful race. 
 
 ' Vdluspd ; see also Thorpe, Ncrthcrn Mythology^ vol. i., p. 5. 
 * Thorpe, NoHhcrn Mythology^ p. 3. 
 
52 THE CONTINENTAL IIOMEHTEAD. 
 
 Is tliere not here a clear reminiscence of the Deluge re- 
 corded in the Bible ? 
 
 And there is another fact recorded in that Book 
 which was not forgotten by these peoples of the North. 
 We are told therein that in the garden of Paradise 
 stood a certain tree on which depended the life and 
 death, the happiness and misery, of the human race. 
 In the mythology of the North is it also set down con- 
 cerning a tree of life. It was called Yggdrasil. It was 
 *' a stately tree, with white dust strewed : thence came 
 the dews that wet the dales ; it stands, ever green, over 
 Urda's well." * Beneath the roots of the Yggdrasil, by 
 the well of Urd, there stands a fair hall, whence go 
 forth three maidens, Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld. They 
 are called Norns. They engrave on the tablet of time ; 
 they determine the lives of men ; they fix their destinies. 
 In modern language these maidens are known as Past, 
 Present, and Future. They are the molders of man's 
 destiny. Life itself is ever green, ever fresh, ever flow- 
 ing ; but time is all the same, determining each individu- 
 al's course. This idea of a fate influencing men, decree- 
 ing their deaths, and shaping their lives, was deeply im- 
 planted in the Teutonic mind. There are the Yalkyriur. 
 They are ever in attendance upon Odin. Prior to a 
 battle they come from afar to sway the victory '^ and 
 choose those who are to fall and dwell in Yalhalla. In 
 the myth of Frey and Gerd, Skimen sings : " My life 
 was decreed to one day only, and my days are deter- 
 mined by fate." ^ The Christian poet who revised the 
 poem of Beowulf was not able to rid himself of this 
 philosophy as well as he did of the mention of the hea- 
 then gods. Thus, the hero says : Fate goes ever as it 
 
 ^ Saemunda's Edda, Voluspd. 2 Voluspd. 
 
 2 Thorpe, Northern Mytliology^ vol. i., p. 4*7. 
 
PHILOSOPHY. 53 
 
 must — gaeth a wyrd siod hid sceaV But already it is 
 coupled in the poet's mind with, the idea of diref ulness ; 
 he speaks of it as a grim power — cjebsceaf grimne!^ His 
 ancestors would not have so qualified it. For them it 
 possessed nothing grim or dreadful. Death in fight 
 was their joy and the ideal termination of life. Old 
 age was not a coveted boon : 
 
 " The coward thinks to live for ever, 
 If he avoid the weapon's reach ; 
 But age, which overtakes at last, 
 Twines his gray hair with pain and shame." ^ 
 
 The growth of plant and animal was another prob- 
 lem contemplated by these peoples. Everything living 
 and active was endowed with a personality. Nicors 
 inhabited the running stream. Tree and plant were the 
 dwelling of the genius that made them grow. Nature 
 T7as a vast laboratory in which inert matter was trans- 
 formed into vegetable and animal life by a personal 
 being. Dwarfs were the instruments by which many 
 changes were brought about. They had charge of the 
 gold and precious stones concealed in the bowels of the 
 earth. The echoes in the mountains were the. answers 
 of the dwarfs.* The creation of man these peoples con- 
 ceived to have been the work of three of their gods. 
 The saga tells us that Odin, Hscnir, and Lodur, meeting 
 the ash and the elm, changed the one into a man and 
 
 ^ Beowulf, vi., 915. 
 
 ' xviii., 2472. 
 
 3 Saemunda's Edda, Hava Mai, tr. W, Taylor. So, too, Beovmlf 
 xxi., 2781-3. 
 
 * Grimm, Deulsch. Myth., 421, 0. N. Dvergmal. So, rock-crystal was 
 known as dwarf-stone, dvcerg sten, and in Denmark certain stones are 
 still called dwarf-hammers. See Thorpe, Northern Mythology, vol. i., p. 8. 
 
54 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 the other into a woman. And Odin gave them soul ; 
 Ha3nir, mind ; Lodur, blood. The ash is henceforth 
 known as the life-tree.^ Thus did these simple peoples 
 distinguish between the material and spiritual elements 
 in man, although they never defined what was matter 
 and what spirit. Indeed, in spite of the distinction in 
 their mythology, their thoughts became too materialized. 
 But there is one passage in Beoioulf which has the ring 
 of an Old English idea. It asserts the supremacy of the 
 understanding. It is a remarkable expression ; for it 
 is one of the very few that anywhere assert the supe- 
 riority of spirit over matter. " Understanding, delib- 
 eration, forethought of mind," says Beowulf, " is every- 
 where best." ^ This is a thought as old as the Aryan 
 family. In a Hindu book, purporting to give good 
 advice in the guise of fables, it is asserted that knowl- 
 edge is the fountain-head of all happiness, and by a 
 most illogical process is it shown to be so : " Knowl- 
 edge gives good behavior ; from good behavior one 
 attains worthiness ; from being worthy one gets to 
 be wealthy ; from wealth one reaches religious merit, 
 afterward happiness."^ The ideas in both are of a 
 piece with the thoroughly English maxim, " Knowledge 
 is power." That in j&eoiow^/' reveals the germ of mod- 
 ern English philosophy. The human understanding 
 is the one theme it seems to have fathomed, from the 
 problem of knowing discussed by Locke, to that of the 
 unknowable treated by Herbert Spencer. And that 
 problem, when made the exclusive one of philosophy 
 
 ^ Cvoicheam. See " A spell to promote the fertility of land," from 
 MS. Cott. Caligula, A. 7, printed in Rask's A. S. Grammar, p. 148. 
 
 2 xvi., 2123-5. 
 
 ^ Vidya dadati vinayam vinay^ty^ti patratatam patratvaddhanam- 
 apnoti dhanaddhannam tatah sukham." — Hitopadesa^ b. i., 6. 
 
pniLOSOPHY. 55 
 
 and identified with it, has only the same outcome it 
 has had with the Hindu mind ; it will end in Nirvana ; 
 it will make nihilism the last word of English philos- 
 ophy. 
 
 The question of good and evil was a puzzling one 
 for the Old Enojlish mind. It recoornized the one and 
 the other. There never was a nation without primary 
 ideas of right and wrong ; but the explanation that 
 each people gives varies. To the Teuton, when men 
 were first formed they were happy. But the frost- 
 giants came among them and taught them evil. One 
 especially, called Gullveig,^ spread avarice and the love 
 of gain among them : and though she was thrice burned, 
 she arose as often from hei' ashes, and she still lives. 
 She was the first to cause human blood to flow, and the 
 saga tells us that it is because of her decree that it still 
 flows. The suffering of the good and innocent was also 
 a difficult problem for these peoples. Life was not to 
 them what it is to the Christian, a period of probation 
 and meriting ; it therefore never entered their minds 
 that misery might be a boon. They cut the Gordian 
 knot by saying that some men fell under the influence 
 of good spirits, and some of evil. Even among their 
 gods they recognized one as actuated by wickedness. 
 He was a spirit of craft and cunning. He was known 
 as Loki, and was the source of innumerable annoyances 
 to gods and men. Still he seemed to have made him- 
 self a sort of necessity for them ; for when Thor loses 
 his hammer, to Loki he goes to find it for him.'^ Phi- 
 losophy was for the Northman made up of riddles. 
 Odin undertakes to contend with Yafthrudni in learn- 
 ing. He approaches him in disguise. Yafthrudni tells 
 him : 
 
 ^ i. e., gold-matter. ^ Tlirynx's Quida. 
 
56 THE CONTINENTAL HOMESTEAD. 
 
 "Know tliat to thy parting step 
 Never shall these doors unfold, 
 If thy tongue excel not mine 
 In the strife of mystic lore." ^ 
 
 It is a matter of life or death to answer his ques- 
 tions. Thus is knowledge a prize to be struggled for ; 
 if needs be, to die for. 
 
 Such is the people we have attempted to describe ; 
 we have dived into its thoughts ; we have measured 
 the beatings of its heart ; we have seen how its days 
 were passed in the mist-land of its Continental home- 
 steads ; we have contemplated the germs of important 
 modern institutions, but we have noticed very few in- 
 dications of the great irresistible nation which was in 
 after-times to play such a conspicuous part in mold- 
 ing the civilizations of Europe and America. But who 
 sees the hero in the infant child ? Still, this child, un- 
 der Keltic, Roman, and Christian influences, will wax 
 strong. It will learn new ideas and new modes of life. 
 New sentiments and aptitudes will be infused into it. 
 Let us watch its growth under the fostering care of 
 
 each influence. 
 
 ^ VafihrudnVs mal. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 I. — Kelt and Teuton. 
 
 Both Kelt and Teuton started from the same Aryan 
 homestead. They had the same stock of ideas, the 
 same principle of action, the same manners and customs. 
 They spoke the same language with very slight differ- 
 ence. " A wonderful analogy," says Dr. Herman Ebel, 
 speaking of the affinity of conjugations, " with the Teu- 
 tonic and Slavonian is found to exist, which points to 
 a most special connection of these languages, the result 
 either of long-continued unity, or of a very special re- 
 lationship of the mind of the peoples." ^ After centuries 
 of separation these kindred peoples meet. They no 
 longer recognize each other. Their forms of speech 
 have diverged. So have their character and disposition. 
 They have retained little in common beyond some laws 
 and customs. 
 
 The English, with their ideal of brute force and their 
 superstitious natures, with their love for war and greed 
 
 ^ Celtic Studies, translated by W. K. Sullivan, § 14, p. 127. Dr. 
 Sulivan says, speaking of Gaulish names, " Both Tri>h and German 
 do and should explain them, for they must have been nearly identical 
 a few centuries before the Christian era." — Introduction to O'Curri/^s 
 Manners and Customs of tJie Ancient Irish, p. Ixxvii. 
 
58 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 for plunder, came among their Keltic kinsmen. For 
 centuries tliey had been slowly but effectively gaining a 
 foothold in the island. As early as a. d. 289 we find Ca- 
 rausius employing large bodies of Frankish mercenaries.^ 
 In the fifth century their numbers became so great that 
 the conflict was one of life or death. Then it is that the 
 English settlement became a matter of history. But it 
 1 is erroneous to think that the English ever drove all 
 their Keltic kin into the mountains of Wales.^ Some 
 they lived among on terms of equality ; others they 
 subjugated and attached to the soil. But in the course 
 of ages these latter regained their independence and 
 amalgamated with their conquerors. AVith Keltic blood, 
 Keltic genius and the Keltic spirit became infused. And 
 this commingling of the two races is more widespread 
 than is generally conceded or than either people is con- 
 scious of. About forty years ago W. F. Edwards exam- 
 ined the matter from a physiological standpoint, and 
 came to the conclusion that there was a much larger 
 Keltic element in the present English population than 
 is indicated by names. " Attached to the soil," says 
 he, speaking of the Britons, " they will have shared in 
 that emancipation w^hich, during the course of the mid- 
 dle ages, gradually restored to political life the mass of 
 the population in the countries of Western Europe ; 
 recovering by slow degrees their rights without resum- 
 
 ^ Ihkl.^ p. xlii. 
 
 2 I am surprised to find so painstaking an historian as Mr. Green, 
 in his delightful Short History of the English People^ admit this common 
 but erroneous opinion. Creasy is of a different mind. In his English 
 Constitution^ he states expressly that •' the British element was largely 
 preserved in our nation." See also a very able paper in the Trans. 
 Philological Society^ 1857, p. S9, On the Connection of the Keltic with 
 the Teutonic Languages^ and especially with the Anglo-Saxon^ by the 
 ^ Rev. John Davies, M. A. 
 
KELT AND TEUTON. 59 
 
 ing their name, and rising gradually with the rise of in- 
 dustry, they will have got spread through all ranks of 
 society. The gradualness of this movement, and the 
 obscurity which enwrapped its beginnings, allowed the 
 contempt of the conqueror and the shame of the con- 
 quered to become fixed feelings ; and so it turns out 
 that an Englishman, who noAV thinks himself sprung 
 from the Saxons or Normans, is often in reality the 
 descendant of the Britons." " Mr. Henry Morley studied 
 the question from a purely literary point of view, and 
 announces as the result of his investigation this some- 
 what startling conclusion : " The Celts do not form an 
 utterly distinct part of our mixed population. But for 
 the early, frequent, and various contact with the race 
 that in its half -barbarous days invented Oisin's dialogues 
 with St. Patrick, and that quickened afterward the 
 Northmen's blood in France, Germanic England would . 
 not have produced a Shakespeare." ^ Mr. Matthew Ar- 
 nold brought to bear upon the subject his trained criti- 
 cal talent, and gives the result of his study in these 
 words : " If I were asked where English poetry got these 
 three things, its turn for style, its turn for melancholy, ^ 
 and its turn for natural magic, for catching and render- 
 ing the charm of nature in a wonderfully near and vivid 
 way, I should answer with some doubt that it got much 
 of its turn of style from a Celtic source ; with less 
 doubt, that it got much of its melancholy from a Celtic 
 source ; with no doubt at all, that from a Celtic source 
 it got nearly all its natural magic." ^ Thus we find all 
 
 ^ Des Caracteres Phisiolog^giies des Races Humaincs consideres dans 
 leurs Rapports avec VHistoire^ quoted in Matthew Arnold's Celtic Liter' 
 aturc. 
 
 ^ Early English Writers, vol i., part i., p. 188. 
 
 ' Celtic Literature,^. \^^. 
 
QO KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 those who make a careful anatomy of English thought 
 conclude that the Keltic element is a strong influencing 
 agency in determining its present and past preeminence. 
 Let us now see what there is in Keltic character and 
 Keltic thought to exert this great influence. 
 
 In character and disposition the Kelt differs from 
 the Teuton. The Kelt is flighty and fickle ; the Teuton 
 is sluggish in his movements, but steady and persevering. 
 The nature of the one is more spiritual than that of the 
 other. Its ideal is more elevated. It has greater sus- 
 ceptibility for the beautiful and the sensuous.^ It lays 
 stress upon color and form. Bright color and beautiful 
 form delight it. The Teutonic nature looks more to 
 the inner view of things. It is not dazzled by show. 
 If it fights, it must be for something more tangible than 
 mere honor or championship ; it must be for riches, or 
 power, or conquest, or in defense of person and property. 
 Not so the Keltic disposition. Its valor is for valor's 
 sake. An opinion or a principle is sufficient reason in 
 its sight to fight, and even to die for. The Kelt lacks 
 the steadiness of the Teuton. He is impatient of labor. 
 He would achieve results at a bound. He does not know 
 how to plod. His is an emotional nature. It is easily 
 elevated and as easily depressed. It has not seriousness 
 enough. It is fond of excitement ; it glories in appear- 
 ances. 
 
 *' For acuteness and valor the Greeks ; '- 
 
 For excessive pride the Eomans ; 
 
 For dullness the creeping Saxons ; 
 
 For 'beauty and love the GaedhilsP 
 
 * Distinguish between the sensuous and the sensual. The sensual 
 refers to that which is gross, material, carnal; the sensuous is that 
 which appeals to the eye, or ear, as rhythm, harmony, color, form. It 
 is in this sense Milton uses the word sensuous in his well-known de- 
 
KYMRIC KELT. 01 
 
 So speaks an Irisli poem, forgetful that the persistency 
 of " the creeping Saxon " is the source of his strength 
 and the secret of his enduring power. 
 
 II. — Kymeic Kelt. 
 
 When the English and Welsh fought for mastery 
 in the island of Britain, the latter were greatly disor- 
 ganized. Centuries of struggles had exhausted them. 
 Whatever tinge of Roman civilization they may have 
 acquired, left among them no other trace than the story 
 of Brutus, the grandson of JEneas. This was the sole 
 legacy of pagan Rome. But they were a Christian 
 people. They had their churches, their schools, and 
 their priesthood. They were attached to Rome and 
 its teachings. They recognized the Pope, and referred 
 to him all their difficulties.^ In all other respects both 
 clergy and people are greatly demoralized. Their pri- 
 vate feuds they gratify at the expense of the public good. 
 GiLDAs writes in the sixth century.'* His soul is grieved 
 
 scription of poetry, in which he tells us it must be " simple, sensuous, 
 and impassioned." 
 
 ^ Gildas, in his epistle (§ 6*7), complains of those who cross the seas 
 urging their claims to church benefices. That document, first brought 
 to light by Spelman, and printed in Wilkins's Concilia (vol. i., p. 28), 
 in which Dinoth writes in Keltic to St. Augustine, that he acknowledges 
 no other obedience "to him whom you call the Pope than that dic- 
 tated by charity," is now regarded as a forgery. For an exposition of 
 the reasons, see Dollinger's Church History — tr. Cox., vol. ii., pp. 61, 
 G2. An ancient British or English Church, not in communion with 
 Rome, is an historical myth. 
 
 2 Works : Epistola de Ezcidio Britannice et CoMigatio Ecclcsiastici 
 Ordlms. This was translated in 1638, under the title The Epistle of 
 GUda!^^ the most ancient British author ; who flourished in the ycere of 
 our Lord 546. And loho by his great erudition, sanciitie, and wisdome, 
 acquired the name of Sapiens. Faithfully translated out of the originall 
 
62 KELTIC IXFLUEXCE. 
 
 and indignant at the state of affairs. He conceals nothing. 
 He tells his countrymen, individually and collectively, 
 their failings : " It has always been a custom with our 
 nation," he writes, "as it is at present, to be impotent 
 in repelling foreign foes, but bold and invincible in 
 raising civil war, and bearing the burden of their of- 
 fenses ; they are impotent, I say, in following the 
 standard of peace and truth, but bold in wickedness 
 and falsehood."^ He leaves his unfortunate country, 
 goes to Brittany, and settles in Yannes. Thence he 
 flings his fierce invective against all orders of society. 
 He draws a frightfully vivid picture of men in church 
 and state. He boils with rage against Vortigern for 
 asking the aid of " the fierce and impious Saxons, a race 
 hateful both to God and man."^ His description of 
 the ravages of this " wolfish offspring " glows Avith the 
 glare of the fires they kindled : " The fire of vengeance, 
 justly kindled by former crimes, spread from sea to sea, 
 fed by the hands of our foes in the East, and did not 
 cease, until, destroying the neighboring towns and lands, 
 it reached the other side of the island, and dipped its 
 red and savage tongue in the western ocean. . . . La- 
 mentable to behold, in the midst of the streets lay the 
 tops of lofty towers, tumbled to the ground, stones of 
 high walls, holy altars, fragments of human bodies, 
 covered with livid clots of coagulated blood, looking as 
 if they had been squeezed together in a press, and with 
 no chance of being buried, save in the ruins of the 
 
 Latine. London^ 12»20, 1638. Another version, based upon this, is 
 that of Dr. Giles, published in Bolm's Antiquarian Library, in the vol- 
 ume entitled Six Old English Chronicles. St. Gildas, according to Geof- 
 frey of Monmouth, translated the Molmutine Laws from the Keltic. 
 {Hist Brii., lib. ii., cap. IV.) 
 
 ^ Epidola, § 21. ^ Rid, § 23. 
 
KYMRIC KELT. ^3 
 
 houses, or in the ravening bellies of wild beasts and 
 birds." * Even this language pales before the torrent of 
 indignation that fills his soul as he contemplates the 
 moral evils of his people : " Britain has kings, but they 
 are tyrants ; she has judges, but unrighteous ones ; gen- 
 erally engaged in plunder and rapine, but always prey- 
 ing on the innocent ; whenever they exert themselves 
 to avenge or protect, it is sure to be in favor of rob- 
 bers and criminals ; they have an abundance of wives, 
 yet are they addicted to fornication and adultery.^ . . . 
 Britain hath priests, but they are unwise ; very many 
 that minister, but many of them impudent ; clerks she 
 hath, but certain of them are deceitful raveners ; pas- 
 tors, so called, but rather wolves prepared for the slaugh- 
 ter of souls (for they provide not for the good of the 
 common people, but covet rather the gluttony of their 
 own bellies) ; . . . seldom sacrificing, and seldom with clean 
 hearts, standing at the altars.^ . . ." But why continue ? 
 Take the catalogue of all imaginable crimes, condense 
 them into one book through which is infused a burning 
 lava of indignation, and you possess the essence of this 
 Epistle of Gildas. Nor is he content with generalities. 
 He calls upon the leading men by name ; he sets them 
 face to face with their crimes ; he heaps on their heads 
 the whole responsibility of their country's ruin. " What 
 dost thou, also, thou lion's whelp (as the prophet saith), 
 Aurelius Conanus ? Art not thou as the former (if not 
 far more foul) to thy utter destruction, swallowed up 
 in the filth iness of horrible murders, fornications, and 
 adulteries, as by an overwhelming flood of the sea ? 
 Hast not thou by hating, as a deadly serpent, the peace 
 of thy country, and thirsting unjustly after civil wars 
 
 J 77ni, § 24. 8 Ihid, i ^&. 
 
 ^Ibid, §27. 
 
64 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 and frequent spoils, shut the gates of heavenly peace 
 and repose against thine own soul ? ^ . . . Thou, also, 
 who, like to the spotted leopard, art diverse in manners 
 and in mischief, w^hose head now is growing gray, who 
 art seated on a throne full of deceits, and from the bot- 
 tom even to the top art stained with murder and adul- 
 teries, thou naughty son of a good king, like Manasses 
 sprung from Ezekiah, Vorti23ore, thou foolish tyrant of 
 the Demetians, why art thou so stiff ?^ . . ." None 
 but a Briton could speak with such earnestness to his 
 fellow Britons.^ The impatience, the restlessness, the 
 unconquerable shame at defeat, the inability to make 
 most of one's position, all reveal the Keltic nature. 
 
 Among those things for which Gildas reproaches the 
 clergy, is that of being " negligent and dull to listen to 
 the precepts of the holy saints (if ever they did so much 
 as once hear that which full often they ought to hear), 
 but diligent and attentive to the plays and foolish 
 fables of secular men, as if they were the very ways to 
 life, which indeed are but the passages to death." * 
 This shows that though independence and virtue — 
 land and goods — might pass from the Kymry, they still 
 retained their love for song and story. Indeed, when 
 Gildas lived was one of the brightest eras of Kymric 
 poetry. His brother Aneurin and his schoolmate 
 Llywarch Hen are the greatest names in the literature 
 of his people. The poet's art was cultivated and cher- 
 
 ^ Ibid, % 30. ^ Ibid, § 31. 
 
 3 It is strange that Henry Movley should doubt the authenticity of 
 this book, or think of attributing it to other than Gildas. The vehe- 
 mence of the style and the indignation are all too earnest for.any one 
 to assume them without feeling them. His words burn. Both man- 
 ner and matter point to a Briton as the author, whether that Biiton is 
 Gildas or another. 
 
 * ^P-. § 66. 
 
KYMRIC KELT. 65 
 
 ished by Cliristian bards with as mucli assiduity as in 
 Druidical days. The remnants of bardic lore that have 
 come down to us in the precepts and maxims known as 
 Triads, reveal an admirable knowledge of human nature 
 and the laws of composition. They show that a bard's 
 education was a serious affair. His acquisitions were 
 manifold ; his criterion of excellence was elevated ; his 
 attainments were put to severe tests. Here are the 
 teachings of the Triads : 
 
 " The three qualifications of poetry : Endowment of genius, 
 judgment from experience, and happiness of mind. 
 
 " The three primary requisites of genius : An eye that can 
 see nature ; a heart that can feel nature ; and boldness that 
 dares follow it. 
 
 " The three foundations of Judgment : Bold design, frequent 
 practice, and frequent mistakes. 
 
 "The three foundations of learning: Seeing much, suffering 
 much, and studying much. 
 
 " The three foundations of happiness: A suffering with con- 
 tentment, a hope that it will come, and a belief that it will be. 
 
 " The three foundations of thought : Perspicuity, ampli- 
 tude, and justness. 
 
 " The three canons of perspicuity : The word that is neces- 
 sary, the quantity that is necessary, and tlie manner that is 
 necessary. 
 
 " The three canons of amplitude : Appropriate thought, 
 variety of thought, and requisite thought. . . . 
 
 " The three duties of a bard : Just composition, just knowl- 
 ledge, and just criticism." ^ 
 
 With principles thus clearly laid down it is to be 
 looked for that this people excel in style. And such we 
 find to be the case. It has great mastery of expression. 
 It has a superabundance of words. Its lively imagina- 
 
 ^ Ancient British Triads in Relics of ilie WcUh Bardsy by Edward 
 Jones, 1794. 
 
QQ KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 tion, trained and bridled by thorough discipline, em- 
 ploys metaphor and likeness with an ease and grace 
 that we seek in vain among the Old English writers. 
 One of the most spirited odes in Old English is that 
 commemorative of the Battle of Brunanhurh in 938. 
 In this manner it tells of the flight of the Scottish clans 
 and of the slaughter made among them : 
 
 " Pursuing fell the Scottish clans ; 
 The men of the fleet in numbers fell ; 
 Midst the din of the field, the warriors swate. 
 
 , No slaughter yet was greater made 
 E'er in this island, of people slain, 
 Before this same, with the edge of the sword." ^ 
 
 Now, compare with this the battle-ode of Aneurii^ 
 (510-560). Note the abundance of imagery and the 
 graceful form of expression : 
 
 ' Have ye seen the tuskyboar, 
 Or the bull with sullen roar. 
 On surrounding foes advancing? 
 So Garadawg bore his lance. 
 
 As the flame's devouring force, 
 As the whirlwind in its course, 
 As the thunder's fiery stroke, 
 Glancing on the shivered oak ; 
 Did the sword of Yedel's mow 
 The crimson harvest of the foe." ^ 
 
 Again, it is only the Kymric bard that truly pos- 
 sesses " an eye that can see nature and a heart that can 
 
 ^ Ingram's version in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. 
 ^ Gododin, Gray's version, in Jones's History of Ancient Welsh Bards, 
 p. 18. 
 
KYMKIC KELT. 67 
 
 feel nature." Here is an instance of that rare blending 
 of nature into action. Taliesiist (520-570) — Shining 
 Forehead — singes the deeds of Urien. He also is con- 
 temporary with Gildas. He is Urien's chief bard. He 
 thus describes Urien's prowess : " Doorkeeper ! listen ! 
 What noise is that ? Is it the earth that shakes ? Or 
 is it the sea that swells, rolling its white head toward 
 thy feet ? Is it above the valley ? It is Urien that 
 thrusts. Is it above the mountains ? It is Urien that 
 conquers. Is it beyond the slope of the hill ? It is 
 Urien who wounds. Is it high in anger ? It is Urien 
 who shouts. Above the road, above the plain, above 
 all the defiles, neither on one side nor on two is there 
 refuge from him." * In those days princes and chiefs 
 thought it not beneath them to strike the harp and sing 
 the glories of the land or bewail its misfortunes. Such a 
 bard was Llywaech Hex, or the Old (490-580), Prince 
 of Argoed, and companion in arms with Urien. He 
 was devoted to his country, and his sons inherited his 
 spirit. One by one did he see them fall in battle, and 
 lonely and alone he passed through life in his old age, 
 wondering why he should still be left when all that was 
 near and dear to him had passed away.'* In these 
 touching words he bemoans the loss of his youngest 
 son : " Let the wave break noisily ; let it cover the 
 shore when the joined lances are in battle. O Gwenn ! 
 woe to him who is too old to avenge you ! Let the 
 wave break noisily ; let it cover the plain when the 
 lances join with a shock. . . . Gwenn has been slain at 
 the ford of Morlas. Here is the bier made for him by 
 his fierce-conquered enemy after he had been surrounded 
 on all sides by the army of the Lloegrians ; here is the 
 
 ^ Quoted in Henry Morley's Earhj Writers^ vol. i., part i. 
 2 See liis address to his crutch. 
 4 
 
68 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 tomb of Gwenn, the son of the old Llywarch. Sweetly 
 a bird sang on a pear-tree above the head of Gioenn^ 
 before they covered him icith turf: that broke the heart 
 of the old Llywarch,''''^ Here we have the perfect poet 
 soul, brave and generous ; but so tender, so susceptible 
 to every touch of nature. This susceptibility, this ten- 
 derness, this sweet melancholy, the English will imbibe 
 to a certain des^ree from their Welsh kin. 
 
 III. — Gaedhil and Kymry. 
 
 But the Britons themselves learned some of their ar- 
 tistic cunning from their Gaedhilic brethren. Much of 
 their brightest imagery, many of their most significant 
 legends, came out of the sister isle. " One thing is cer- 
 tain ; the traditions that form the basis of Welsh poetry 
 and literature, and many of their laws, are not Welsh, but 
 belong to their earlier conquerors, the Irish, or their later 
 ones, the Strathclyde Britons." ^ In the Gaedhilic poetry 
 we find great accuracy of description, an eye to color, a 
 tendency to enter into details that almost wearies. It 
 has been seen how indefinite the monster, Grendel, is in 
 the poem of Beowulf The Keltic mind could not so 
 conceive a monster. It must have color and shape. 
 Here is an instance : " As the King's people were after- 
 ward at the assembly they saw a couple approaching 
 them — a woman and a man ; larger than the summit of 
 a rock or a mountain was each member of their mem- 
 bers ; sharper than a shaving-knife the edge of their 
 shins ; their heels and hams in front of them ; should a 
 sackful of apples be thrown on their heads not one of 
 them would fall to the ground, but would stick on the 
 
 ' W. K. Sullivan, introduction to O'Curry's Customs and ITamiers 
 of the Ancient Irish^ vol. i.,p. 40. 
 
GAEDHIL AND KYMRY. 69 
 
 points of the strong, bristly hair which grew out of their 
 heads ; blacker than the coal or darker than the smoke 
 was each of their members ; whiter than snow their 
 eyes ; a lock of the lower beard was carried round the 
 back of the head, and a lock of the upper beard de- 
 scended so as to cover the knees ; the woman had whis- 
 kers, but the man was without whiskers." ' These are 
 tangible monsters ; they can be di'awn and painted. 
 
 With the Kelt, color is a passion ; the Teuton has 
 but the mere dawnings of susceptibility to color. Two 
 heroes meet in battle. Ferdiad says to Cuchulaind : 
 
 " What has brought thee, O hound, 
 To combat with a strong champion ? 
 Crimson-red shall flow thy blood 
 Over the trappings of thy steed ; 
 Woe is thy journey ! " ^ 
 
 Not of wounds or of slaughter speaks he, but of the 
 flow of the crimson blood. In the same poem every 
 warrior is described with all the accuracy of a modem 
 passport. Here is an instance : "A tall, graceful cham- 
 pion, of noble, polished, and proud mien, stood at the 
 head of the party. This most beautiful of the kings of 
 the world stood among his troops with all the signs of 
 obedience, superiority, and command. He wore a mass 
 of fair, yellow, curling, drooping hair. He had a pleas- 
 ing, ruddy countenance. He had a deep-blue, sparkling, 
 piercing, terrific eye in his head ; and a two-branching 
 beard, yellow and curling, upon his chin. He wore a 
 
 ^ Tlie Banquet of Bun Na N-Oed\ edited by Dr. O'Donovan, for 
 the Irish Arch. Society, p. 21. This version dates from about the 
 twelfth century. 
 
 ^ Tdin Bo Chuailgne^ in O'Curry's Manners and Customs of the An- 
 cient Irish, vol. iii., p. 431. 
 
70 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 crimson, deep-bordered, five-folding tunic ; a gold pin in 
 the tunic over his bosom ; a brilliant white shirt, inter- 
 woven with thread of red gold next his white skin." ^ 
 And so each leader is described with similar accuracy. 
 No trait escapes. The color of the eye, the cut of the 
 beard, the expression of the face, are all dwelt upon. 
 One leader is described as " a man of hound-like, hateful 
 face. He had light grisly hair and large yellow eyes in 
 his head." ^ Later the English will learn the art of color- 
 ing. And when we come upon anything so distinctly 
 fresh as this — 
 
 " Fairer child might not he born : . . . 
 Bright as ever any glass, 
 White as any lily-flower^ 
 So rose-red was his color " — ® 
 
 we may confidently set it down to a Keltic source. 
 
 Another characteristic trait of the Keltic mind is its 
 power to satirize and its dread of satire. The poet is 
 not only honored, he is feared as well. His blessing 
 was supposed to secure against harm and bring good 
 with it. Among the three things in the Welsh Triads 
 that will secure a man from hunger and nakedness is 
 " the blessing of a bard, a true descendant of song." * 
 The Keltic nature has deeply implanted in it the sense 
 of the ridiculous. It has a horror for sarcasm. It scru- 
 pulously avoids all that could induce it. For this reason 
 it dreads a personal blemish, lest it give rise to a nick- 
 name or be occasion for satire. The Keltic bard was 
 permitted to satirize the patron who refused him a suit- 
 
 * Ibid., p. 92. The Tain Bo Chuailgne is the groat epic of Ireland 
 The heroine is Spenser's Queen Mab, here called Medhhh or Meave. 
 
 2 Ibid., p. 93. 
 
 3 King Horn, MS. in Bodleian Library, Oxford. 
 ^ Relics of the Welsh Bards, p. 80. 
 
GAEDHIL AND KYMRY. ^1 
 
 able return for his poem, or who even denied him any- 
 thing he asked. And his satire was not supposed to be 
 confined to words. The poet's curse was considered ef- 
 fective. It was a terror to kings and families. It caused 
 fatalities to come upon man and beast. It brought steril= 
 ity to the land, " so that neither corn, grass, nor foliage 
 could grow." ^ And there still lingers among this people 
 a vague feeling that harm comes from the satire or curse 
 even of a ballad-maker. From the remotest times down 
 to our own, says O'Curry, speaking of satire, " its power 
 was dreaded in Erinn ; and we have numerous instances 
 on record of its having driven men out of their senses, 
 and even to death itself." ^ Gaedhilic legends abound 
 containing proofs of the prevalence of this idea. Here 
 is one : The poet Neidhe wishes to banish Caier, the 
 king and his uncle, from his throne ; and as no king with 
 a blemish can continue to rule, he resolves to bring one 
 on him by means of satire. So he asks Caier for a pres- 
 ent which he knows him to be pledged not to give away. 
 " Woe and alas ! " said Caier, " it is prohibited to me to 
 give it away from me." This refusal gives Neidhe pre- 
 text for composing a satire. And the words of the satire 
 are these : 
 
 " Evil death and short life to Caier ; 
 May spears of battle slay Caier ; 
 The rejected of the land and the earth is Caier ; 
 Beneath tlie mounds and tlie rocks be Caiei-." 
 
 Thereupon three blisters appear upon the king's cheek. 
 And the names of the blisters are Disgrace, Blemish, and 
 Defect. And next morning, when washing himself in 
 
 1 O'Gurry, Manners and C.istoms of the Ancient Irish, vol. i., lect 
 Lv., p. TO, 
 
 2 Ibid., lect. X., p. 217. 
 
72 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 the fountain, he discovered the blisters; and forthwith 
 he fled, " in order," says the story, " that no one who 
 knew him should see his disgrace." * This is the spirit 
 that gives force to, and makes effective, the savage on- 
 slaught of a Swift. ^ 
 
 IV. — Keltic Sentiment. 
 
 But the master-trait of Keltic literature is the ex- 
 pression of sentiment. And this expression is inwoven 
 with color, and form, and love for nature, and suscepti- 
 bility to its charms, in a style and with a method that 
 please and delight. No other nation possesses this apti- 
 tude in the same degree. It is from the Kelt that mod- 
 ern peoples learned all they possess of this power. It 
 enters their literature as a foreign element. The poet 
 does not digest it and assimilate it to his native way 
 of thinking, for it does not altogether come home to 
 him. When he meets with this intimate blending of na- 
 ture and sentiment, he admires it for its beauty and tran- 
 scribes it as a grace beyond the reach of his art. Here is a 
 passage of this character, taken from the beautiful story 
 of Peredur or Parcival: " And in the evening he entered 
 a valley, and at the head of the valley he came to a her- 
 mit's cell, and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and 
 there he spent the night. And in the morning he arose, 
 and, when he went forth, behold a shower of snow had 
 fallen the night before, and a hawk had killed a wild 
 fowl in front of the cell, and the noise of the horse 
 scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted upon the 
 bird. And Peredur stood and compared the blackness 
 
 ^ Ibid.^ p. 218. The story is taken from Cormac's Glossary. 
 
 ^ See Gulliver* s Travels \ also A 3fodest Proposal. In 1835 Surgeon 
 Hamilton with others examined the Dean's skull. In his report the 
 surgeon says : " The skull resembles in a most extraordinary manner 
 
KELTIC SENTIMENT. 73 
 
 of the raven, and the whiteness of the snow, and the 
 redness of the blood, to the hair of the lady that best he 
 loved, which was blacker than jet, and to her skin, which 
 was whiter than snow, and to the two red ^pots upon 
 her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the 
 snow appeared to be." ^ And we are further told that 
 the sight held him so spellbound, the red spots had to 
 be covered from his view in order to break the charm. 
 All this is of the bone and marrow of Keltic sentiment. 
 It reads the same in the rhymes of Chrestien of Troyes,'^ 
 and in the more artistic poem of Wolfram von Eschen- 
 bach,^ as it was told in the mountains of its Welsh 
 home. 
 
 This sentiment, when woman becomes its object, as- 
 sumes a caste of peculiar delicacy and tenderness. It 
 has been seen that the Teuton's ideal of woman was 
 that of an unsexed human being. Not so was she re- 
 garded by the Kelt. She loved him, and clung to him, 
 and lived for him; and he in return loved, respected, 
 and protected her. The beautiful Creide is about to 
 choose among her suitors. She does not, like Brunhild, 
 make with them a trial of personal strength, nor does 
 she condemn the rejected ones to death; hers is a more 
 feminine fancy. He shall have her hand who can in 
 song best describe her house and furniture.* A fair one 
 
 the skulls of the so-called Keltic aborigines of Northern Europe, which 
 are found in the early tumuli of this people throughout Ireland." 
 
 ^ Mabinogion, the Stcry of Peredur, vol. i., p. 325, ed. Lady Guest. 
 
 2 See the Parcival of Chrestien of Troyes, 1190, in the Appendix to 
 Lady Guest's edition of Malinogion. 
 
 * Parzival, (1200), ed. Simrock. For an account of the origin, 
 meaning, and influence of the Arthurian epic cycle, see part ii. of this 
 work. 
 
 '* Book of Lhmore^ quoted in O'Curry. Even the freaks and fancies 
 of human nature repeat themselves all the world over. In the Chinese 
 
74 KELTIC INFLUENCE. 
 
 dies with the bloom of youth and the charm of beauty 
 upon her. She has only been taken for a time from her 
 grieving friends by the invisible beings who inhabit hill 
 and lake in Erinn, to be restored to them at some future 
 day. Edain, the Queen, is such a one. A mysterious 
 stranger enters the hall, and plays with her husband a 
 game of chess for whatever the winner demands. The 
 stranger wins, and demands Edain at the end of a year. 
 At the allotted hour he enters the guarded hall, and ad- 
 dresses the Queen : 
 
 " O Befinn,^ will you come with me 
 To a wonderful country which is mine, 
 Where the people's hair is of golden hue, 
 And their bodies the color of virgin snow ? 
 
 "There no grief or care is known; 
 White are their teeth, black their eyelashes; 
 Delight of the eye is the rank of our hosts, 
 With the hue of the foxglove on every cheek. ..." 
 
 And after promising her all manner of ideal life he 
 walks away with her unobserved by any but the King.'* 
 The visible world and the invisible world are both 
 blended in the Keltic imagiuation. And whether we 
 turn to the Gaedhilic or the Kymric Kelt we find each 
 making both subservient to the tender regard he has 
 for woman. Thus, in Welsh story we read this de- 
 novel Ju-Kiao-Li^ or The Two Fair Cousins^ which M. Abel-Remusat gave 
 Europe, the heroine, Hongiu, takes a similar fancy. "She has made a 
 vow against marrying a man of the ordinary sort ; she is resolved upon 
 having; no one but a poet of distinguished talents ; a person who can 
 vie with herself in literature, both prose and poetry." (Chap, vi.) 
 
 ^ Fair woman. 
 
 2 0' Curry's Manners and Customs of the Ancient Irish, lect. ix., 
 vol. ii., p. 192. — Compare Goethe's Li/ric on the Erl-King. 
 
KELTIC SENTIMENT. 75 
 
 liglitful passage : Arianrod lays a destiny upon her son 
 " that he never shall have a wife of the race that now 
 inhabits the earth." G^vyddion complains bitterly of it 
 to Math. "Well," said Math, "we will seek, I and 
 thou, by charms and illusions, to form a wife for him 
 out of flowers." So they took the blossoms of the broom 
 and the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, and produced 
 from them a maiden, the fairest and most graceful that 
 man ever saw. And they baptized her and gave her the 
 name of Blodeuwedd, or Flower- Aspect.^ This aerial 
 play of fancy that couples the idea of a flower with that 
 of a maiden in such literal relations, is preeminently 
 Keltic. It is a beautiful conception. 
 
 And when Christianity shall have emancipated wo- 
 man, and raised her up to a higher plane of action and 
 responsibility, and initiated her into the art of adorning 
 her soul with all virtues, the Keltic mind shall rise to 
 the height of this conception as well ; and as Keltic 
 legends and Keltic song, from Brittany and Wales and 
 Ireland, woven into the Arthurian cycle, will help to 
 build up chivalry in mediaeval Europe, so will Keltic pie- 
 ty contribute to strengthen the doctrine of the Church 
 on the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin 
 Mary. So just and so beautiful does this doctrine seem 
 to Keltic sentiment that Keltic intellect, in the person 
 of a Keltic theologian. Duns Scotus,^ becomes its 
 warmest champion, and proclaims it a glorious pre- 
 rogative not to be denied to the Mother of God, and 
 
 ^ Mabiiwffion, Math.^ vol. iii, p. 239. 
 
 2 1274-1308. "As a theologian, Scotus defended the doctrine 
 first made a dogma in our times, but •which is in complete corre- 
 spondence with the spirit of Catholicism, the doctrine of the Immacu- 
 lata Conceptio B. Virginis.^^ — (Ueberwcg, Hist. Pkil.^ vol. i., p. 454, 
 Am, ed.) 
 
76 KELTIC INFLUENCE, 
 
 forthwith the doctrine grows more popular than ever 
 and its influence more striking. And what is that in- 
 fluence ? It shows itself in additional respect for wom- 
 an, in a refinement of manners, in a purer literature, 
 and in a more ideal art. " It contributes powerfully," 
 says Henri Martin, "to the softening of manners, to 
 the growth of chastity, and it becomes for Christian 
 art an almost inexhaustible source of inspiration." ^ In 
 Christian times the restless Keltic spirit shall in its 
 zeal for souls wander abroad, not only in England, 
 but in France and Germany and Italy and even Ice- 
 land ; bringing with " bell and book " learning and re- 
 ligion, and not forgetting its charming legends and its 
 sweet music. 
 
 * Histoirc de France^ t. iii , livre xx, p. 404. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 I. — The English in their Insulae Homestead. 
 
 The English possess themselves of the most fertile 
 regions in the island. The Britons who would still be 
 free retire to the mountains of Wales, or cross the Chan- 
 nel to the forests of Brittany. What is the manner 
 of life of the English in their new insular homestead ? 
 It is that we have already seen them practice prior 
 to their conquest. They brought with them their old 
 manners, and customs, and laws, and modes of thought. 
 N'o sooner were they securely settled than they quar- 
 reled among themselves, plundered and murdered one 
 another, chanted their war-songs, worshiped their gods, 
 gambled, sold their children into slavery, and drank 
 themselves into beasts, just as they had done in their 
 days of piracy. The Britons are in possession of Chris- 
 tianity, but the Britons hate their conquerors with 
 too deadly a hatred to attempt to save their souls. 
 Among their greatest sins Beda mentions this, "that 
 they never preached the faith to the Saxons or English 
 who dwelt among them."^ So for one hundred and 
 fi^ty years after the landing upon the isle of Thanet, 
 
 * Eccl. Hist, J i., xxii. 
 
78 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 the English remain in the darkness and superstitions of 
 their old creeds/ They continue to call the days of 
 the week after their gods ; they give the names of these 
 gods to places ; they learn to erect temples in their 
 honor. Thus Wanborough is derived from Wodnes- 
 beorh ; Thursley is Thunresleah, from Thunor or Thor ; 
 Thunderhill is of the same derivation, it is Thunres- 
 hyl.'^ Their religion holds them with an iron grasp. It 
 molds their nature ; it is part of their inner life ; its fa- 
 talism impels them to deeds of daring ; its superstitions 
 pervade their every action from rising to retiring ; its 
 gross materialized hereafter is their great hope in life 
 and their consolation in death. Its practices are such 
 as please their natures ; it places no restraint upon their 
 passions ; it adds a consecration to deeds the most 
 abominable ; it sanctifies crimes the most horrible. It 
 strengthens their selfishness. The gratification of their 
 wish was to them such a power in the face of their 
 fatalistic doctrines that they deified it, or rather it was 
 Odin who was acting in them under the name Wisc.^ 
 And so we find places called accordingly ; Wishanger 
 means Wise's or Woden's meadow ; and we are told 
 that in Devonshire all magical dealings still go Tinder 
 the common name of wishtness^ They had magic rimes 
 and spells with which to cure diseases, mend broken 
 limbs, and insure the successful issue of an undertaking. 
 The flowers of the field were associated with theij* 
 religion ; caves and caverns were peopled with a rays' 
 terious order of beings ; the very boundary-stones o^ 
 their fields they placed under the protection of a god ; 
 
 ^ Ibid.^ cap. xxiii. 
 
 2 Kemble, Saxons in England^ vol. i., p. 344. 
 
 3 Odin = 0. N. Osk = Ger. Wunsch = Wise = Wish. 
 ^ Kemble, he. cit., p. 346. 
 
THE EXGLISn IN THEIR INSDLAR HOMESTEAD. 79 
 
 the heavens and the earth were enveloped in the mists 
 of their religious mythology ; but over all, and cover- 
 ing all, and giving meaning to all, was the gratification 
 of self. Now, in such a religion were to be found only 
 superstition and degradation. It possessed no ennobling 
 element. It never could have led to a high order of civ- 
 ilization. 
 
 II. — Geegoet the Geeat (550-604). 
 
 But a Roman, a Christian, who is in the hands of 
 Providence to be the instrument by which European 
 intelligence is to be molded for centuries, meets some 
 English youths in the slave market in Rome. He is 
 taken with their appearance. Their well-built forms, 
 their ruddy countenances, their golden hair, and bright 
 blue eyes and fair white skin make him regard them 
 rather as angels than men ; and forthwith he burns with 
 zeal to go among a people so fair to behold, and make 
 their souls as fair, and bathe them in the light of the 
 gospel. But his mission is of another kind. He is called 
 to the chair of Peter, and under his wise directions 
 others do the work he yearned so heartily to do. Eng- 
 land is converted, and the germs of a new and a higher 
 civilization are planted in the natures of her English 
 sons. Let us make more than a passing mention of the 
 father of this new civilization. 
 
 Gregory stamped his own and succeeding ages with 
 the impress of his genius. He was alive to all the re- 
 quirements of his time. His energy and activity were 
 equal to every emergency. There was nothing too small 
 to be overlooked ; no power too strong for him to grap- 
 ple with. He was a shrewd statesman, and yet a close 
 student, fond of retirement, devoted to his books. One 
 day we find him rebuking a Patriarch in the East j 
 
80 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 another, settling some point of discipline in England or 
 France ; another, impressing the necessity of some im- 
 portant measure upon the Emperor ; another, bewailing 
 the distractions of his office, and sighing for the retire- 
 ment of his younger days ; * another, teaching the prin- 
 ciples of the music that retains his name, in the schools 
 he had founded for that purpose ; and still another day, 
 entering into the minutest details about his farm in 
 Sicily. And withal, the number and excellence of his 
 writings would do honor to a professional author. He 
 prized learning at its true worth. He everywhere en- 
 couraged it, not indeed for its own sake, but as a means 
 to attain philosophic and Scriptural truth. He laid stress 
 on the fact that those around him be well educated. In 
 dress and speech he took care that nothing savoring of 
 barbarism appear in any of his household from the least 
 to the greatest.^ " There was no one employed in the 
 pontifical palaces," says Andres, " who had not received 
 a refined education, and whose sentiments, language, and 
 instruction were not in keeping with the majesty of the 
 pontifical throne." ^ He strove hard to diminish super- 
 stitions ; he banished all astrologers from his presence.* 
 
 ^ "I can not restrain my tears," wi-ites he to Leander of Seville, 
 " when I transport my thoughts to that blissful haven whence they 
 have dragged me." 
 
 2 " NuUus pontifici famulantium, a minimo usque ad maximum, bar- 
 barura quodlibet in sermone vel habitu prasferebat, sed togata, Quiri- 
 tum more, seu trabeat a Latinitas suura Latium in ipso Latiali palatio 
 singulariter obtinebat." Joan. Diaconus, Vita Greg. Mag., 1. ii., cap. 13. 
 
 ^ Origine, etc., della Letteratura, !., cap. T. 
 
 ^ Ad ha3c doctor sarictissimus ille Gregorius, qui melleo praedica- 
 tionis imbre totam rigavit et inebriavit Ecclesiam, non modo mathesin 
 jussit ah aula rccedere, sed ut traditur a majoribus, incendio dedit pro- 
 batae lectionis 
 
 Scripta Palatinus quaecumque tenebat Apollo. 
 
GREGORY THE GREAT. 81 
 
 Piety and learning were the bulwarks witli which he 
 fortified himself against the desolating march of the 
 barbarian. The Roman Empire was crumbling to ruins. 
 The invading hosts, intoxicated with theu* success, were 
 a chaos of disorder. From the wrecks of the old, Greg- 
 ory built up a new power, which in its turn conquered 
 the conquerors, taught them law and order, and raised 
 them in the scale of civilization. The Lombards are 
 especially fierce — fierce in their paganism,^ not less fierce 
 and intolerant in their Arianism.'^ Gregory treats them 
 with firmness and prudence. He gains the confidence 
 of Theodelinda, their queen, and seconded by her pious 
 efforts he sees the whole nation adopt the true form 
 of Christianity. Knowing their instinctive hatred for 
 Rome, through the aid of his bishops he endeavors to 
 promote among theni a spirit of peace and harmony. 
 With this view he caused the Lombard prelates, at their 
 consecration, to swear that they would endeavor to pre- 
 serve a just peace between their nation and the Ro- 
 
 In quibus eraut praecipua, quae coelestium mentera, et superiorum ora- 
 cula videbantur hominibus revelare. John of Salisbury — Polya'aticus, 
 1. ii., cap. 26. This is one of the most mischievous passages in the 
 whole range of literature. It is the source of nearly all the misrepre- 
 sentations historians have heaped upon Gregory. Forgetting that the 
 word mathesin applied to astrologers as well as mathematicians, men 
 gave out that Gregory hated mathematicians. It was the astrologers 
 that Gregory banished from his court. Then, on a mere rumor — 
 traditur a majoribus — this same flippant gossip states that Gregory 
 burned the library on the Palatine Hill. But no historian believes the 
 story now. Bayle does not think it worth refuting, for he does not 
 regard the source as trustworthy. For a complete refutation of these 
 and other equally silly charges made against Gregory, see Tiraboschi, 
 Storia della Letteratura, t. ii., 1. ii., cap. ii., p. 151, el seq. 
 
 * Greg. Mag., Dialog.^ iii., cap. 28. 
 
 ^ " Wherever the Lombard dominion extended, illiteracy was its 
 companion." Hallam, Literature of Europe^ vol. i., p. 30. 
 
82 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 mans.^ Thus it was that through his influence upon 
 clergy and rulers he concentrated in his hands and in 
 the hands of his successors that spiritual power that 
 was the guiding star of Christendom for a thousand 
 years. In him is concentrated the organizing and gov- 
 erning genius of Rome. 
 
 The writings of Gregory wielded a wide and perma- 
 nent influence. Still, it must be said that his genius was 
 rather for administration than for writing books. He 
 wrote a long and loving commentary on the book of 
 Job, in which he takes sentence after sentence and 
 moralizes upon each with diffuseness. This is the model 
 after which commentators will write upon the sacred 
 Scriptures for centuries. The method was mislead- 
 ing. But it were unhistorical to find fault with the 
 great Pope for not rising to the height of the inspired 
 poem.^ At a time when every word and line of the 
 text was literally regarded as a message from heaven 
 to be taken to heart and applied to all affairs of life, 
 both temporal and spiritual, such a method of Bibli- 
 cal criticism would have been regarded as little less 
 than sacrilegious. Gregory was content with drawing 
 from the teachings of the Holy Book the whole code 
 of Christian morals, as he conceived them. With the 
 same view, he also wrote a book of Homilies, which 
 were popular during the middle ages. They became 
 the manual of the clergy. Bishops exhorted their priests 
 to make of them a careful and constant study. One of 
 the questions put at the visitation of a diocese was 
 whether each priest had a copy of them.* At the be- 
 
 ^ Liber Diurnus Rom. Pont.., pp. 69, 71. See also Lingard's Anglo- 
 Saxon Antiquit/eft. 
 
 ^ See Caesar Cantu, Histoire Universclle, t. vii., p. 428. 
 
 ^ ''■ Si habeat quadraginta homilias Gregoiii, et eas studiose legat 
 
GREGORY THE GREAT. 83 
 
 ginning of his pontificate, he wrote a pastoral which was 
 held in great esteem. Therein he laid down his ideal of 
 a good pastor, the notes of a vocation to the priesthood, 
 and the duties and responsibilities attached to the call- 
 ing. The Emperor Maurice asked him for a copy of it. 
 St. Anastasius, Patriarch of Antioch, translated it into 
 Greek. ^ Soon we shall find Alfred give an Old English 
 version of it to his English subjects. But the work of 
 his especially popular at that day was his Dialogues. 
 This book contributed materially to the conversion of 
 the Lombards. It abounds in miracles and revelations 
 of saints. It was suited to the credulity of the times.^ 
 Pope Zachary had it translated into Greek '; an Ai'abic 
 version of it was made in the eighth century,^ and for 
 five or six centuries afterward it was highly prized. 
 Love for the marvelous was the taste of the age, and 
 Gregory, in this respect, was not more enlightened. 
 What he wrote he believed.* With the same credulity 
 of his age, he was penetrated with the idea that the end 
 of the world was at hand.^ Thus it was that, though 
 above his times in many respects, he was, in the preva- 
 lent notions of the day, a child of his age. But amid 
 the varied occupations that go to fill up the busy life of 
 this great saint, he still thinks of those fair English 
 
 atque intellegat." Reculfus, Bishop of Soissons, in his Constihdions^ 
 admonishes his clergy to have a copy of them. " Also, we admonish 
 that each one of you should be careful to have a missal, lectionary, 
 a book of the Gospels, a martyrology, an antipbonary, psalter, and a 
 book of Foi'ty Homilies of St. Gregory^ Apud Maitland, Dark Ages^ 
 p. 27. 
 
 ^ Tiraboschi, ii., p. 155. ^ See Dial., iv., cap. 46. 
 
 3 Fleury, Fed. Hist, 1. 35. 
 
 * " D'ailleurs, il etait si eloigne de rintention de tromper, qu'il cite 
 chaque fois son auteur." Csesar Cantu, Hist. Universellc, t. vii., p. 428. 
 
 6 Epist. xi., 67. 
 
84: THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 youths he had met in the slave-market ; his heart yearns 
 for the conversion of their island home ; he has a certain 
 number of English boys under the age of eighteen pur- 
 chased and sent to Rome to be educated.^ But his zeal 
 outstrips their progress, and he sends Augustin with 
 forty missionaries. 
 
 III. — AuGUSTIIT AND PauLIXUS. 
 
 In 597 AuGFSTiN lands on the isle of Thanet. 
 Forty monks and some Frankish interpreters are with 
 him. They form into line of procession ; one of the 
 brothers carries a large silver cross ; another bears the 
 image of the Redeemer ; and as they wend their way 
 toward the halls of Ethelbirht, they sing a litany and 
 recite prayers for the eternal salvation both of them- 
 selves and of the people to whom they are come. Au- 
 gustin towers head and shoulders above the rest.'* But 
 the King will not receive them into any house, ** lest," 
 remarks Beda, " according to an ancient superstition, if 
 they practiced any magical arts, they might impose on 
 him." ^ No doubt this precaution was taken at the sug- 
 gestion of his priests. Ethelbirht receives them in the 
 open air, and after they have explained their mission he 
 gives them sustenance and permits them to preach in his 
 kingdom. In all probability this concession Avas made 
 through the influence of Queen Bertha, who was such a 
 pious Catholic as became the granddaughteV of St. Clo- 
 thilde. They were tolerated ; this was enough : the rest 
 
 ' Epist. v., 10. 
 
 ^ " Beat! Augustini formam et personam patriciaro, staturam proce- 
 lara et arduam, adeo ut a scapulis populo superemineret." Gotselinus, 
 Vita S. Aug.^ cap. xlv. 
 
 ^ Ecd. Hist.^ i., cap. 25. 
 
AUGUSTIN AND PAULINUS. 85 
 
 soon followed. The holy, continent, self-sacrificing lives 
 of these pious monks were more eloquent than words. 
 Men's hearts w^ere won. The religion inspiring such a 
 mode of life must come from Heaven ; it must be true ; 
 it must be followed. Such was their practical reasoning. 
 The King was converted ; the people went with him. 
 Augustin's hands were full ; his zeal put forth all its 
 strength. He was naturally a timid man, scrupulously 
 exact, most conservative of all the practices and cus- 
 toms in which he had been trained, careful to consult 
 with Gregory on the smallest points of doctrine and 
 discipline ; but his saintliness and devotedness made up 
 for whatever lack of natural parts there might have 
 been in him. The heart of Gregory is gladdened at 
 his great success. He sends him more laborers to reap 
 the vast harvest — among others, Paulinus, afterward 
 Archbishop of Y"ork. With them he sends vestments, 
 sacred relics of the apostles and mart^^rs, ornaments for 
 the churches, and many books. ^ 
 
 No doubt, among these books were the Homilies 
 and Pastoral and Morals of Gregory. When Augustin 
 first lands in England, he has w4th him a library of nine 
 volumes. It is scant, but characteristic. This library 
 is made up of the following books : 1, The Holy Bible, 
 in two volumes ; 2, the Psalter ; 3, the Gospels ; 4, an- 
 other Psalter ; 5, another copy of the Gospels ; 6, the 
 Apocryphal Lives of the Apostles ; 7, the Lives of the 
 Martyrs ; 8, an Exposition of the Gospels and Epistles." 
 Of these nine volumes, six are Scriptural, and one is 
 explanatory of the Scriptures. Thus it is that the first 
 
 1 Ecd. Hist., cap. 29. 
 
 ** " Hae sunt primitiae librorum totius Ecclesiae Anglicanae," says 
 the " Canterbury Book." Edwards, Memoirs of Libraries^ chap, ii., p. 
 lUO. 
 
86 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 English library is Scriptural. We shall soon find Eng- 
 lish letters saturated with Scriptural thought and col- 
 ored with Scriptural allusions. And English gratitude 
 has recorded its obligations to Augustin in these touch- 
 ing words : " Then it is after the number of eight 
 days and nine, that the Lord took Augustin into the 
 other light — happy in heart because here in Britain he 
 had made earls obedient to him for the will of God 
 as the wise Gregory commanded him. I have not 
 heard that before him any other man or more illus- 
 trious bishop ever brought better lore over the briny 
 sea. He now rests in Britain among the men of Kent 
 in the chief city, near the celebrated minster." ^ 
 
 PAULiisrus is the apostle of Northumbria. Ethelber- 
 ga, the daughter of Bertha, goes to that pagan land to 
 wed Edwin, its pagan king. Paulinus accompanies the 
 young bride to her new home ; he has but one thought 
 in going into that benighted land : it is the thought and 
 the hope of converting its people to the new faith. He 
 is ever on the alert. He seizes upon any the least occa- 
 sion to make it subserve this purpose. But during the 
 first year his efforts are barren. Perhaps his too great 
 anxiety was as much in the way of his success as the 
 hardness of the hearts he was working upon. Still his 
 zeal is finally rewarded. Edwin calls together his priests 
 and chief thegns, to determine upon the feasibility of 
 adopting the new religion. There were in that assem- 
 bly some thoughtful men. One of them, a thegn, stood 
 up and spoke an idea that must have frequently occu- 
 pied his mind. It was well pondered over. It remains 
 one of the most perfect utterances that have come down 
 to us from that time : " The present life of man, O 
 
 ^ Anglo-Saxon Calendar ; Menolocfium, seu Calendarium Poeticum^ 
 London, 1830, S. Fox. 
 
AUGUSTIN AJN^D PAULIXUS. g^ 
 
 King," says this thcgn, " seems to me, in comparison of 
 that time which is unknown to us, like to the swift 
 flight of a sparrow through the hall wherein you sit at 
 meat in winter, with your thegns and ministers, and a 
 good fire burns on the hearth, while the storms of rain 
 and snow prevail abroad. The sparrow flies in at one 
 door and tarries for a moment around the light and heat 
 of the hearth-fire, and then passes out at the other into 
 the dark winter whence it had come. So this life of 
 man appears for a short space, but of what went before, 
 or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If, there- 
 fore, this new doctrine contains something certain of 
 these, let it be followed." ^ Others spoke in a similar 
 strain. The chief priest was there, thoughtful and reso- 
 lute. He was a whole-souled man, and plain-spoken, 
 and opposed to shams and frauds under any shape or 
 form. An honest, upright heart was his. For some 
 time past he had been wavering in his belief in Thor 
 and Woden. No doubt he had been a careful observer 
 of the ways and doings of Paulinus ; the holy life of 
 the latter was an eloquent appeal to his naturally good 
 heart. Be this as it may, Coifi, for such was his name, 
 opened the council by a speech in which he expressed 
 his doubts concerning the old creed, and signified his 
 intent of placing no obstacle in the way of the new 
 doctrine. It was a hint to the more bigoted among 
 his fellow priests to keep in the background. They 
 took it and remained mute. Then Paulinus explained 
 the new creed. His very appearance was so striking 
 that it has been left on record : " He was tall and slight- 
 ly stooping ; he had black hair, and a thin, pale face, 
 and slender hooked nose, and he looked venerable.'"^ 
 
 ^ Beda, EccL Ilisi.^ lib. ii., cap, 13. 
 2 Alfred's Bcda. 
 
88 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 There was conviction in his countenance, and his im- 
 perfect words brought conviction to his hearers. Coifi 
 was the first to break the silence that ensued. He 
 arose and said : " I have long since been sensible that 
 there was nothing in that which we worshiped ; be- 
 cause the more diligently I sought after truth in that 
 worship, the less I found it. But now, I freely confess 
 that such truth evidently appears in this preaching as 
 can confer on us the gifts of life, of salvation, and of 
 eternal happiness." ^ He counsels the King to set fire to 
 the temples. He asks and obtains the privilege of being 
 the first to desecrate that of Godmanham, and over- 
 throw its idols. The labors of Paulinus were blessed 
 beyond his most sanguine desires. This occurred in 
 A. D. 627. 
 
 IV. — Relapse and Recovery. 
 
 But England was not yet converted. And the his- 
 tory of the struggle between the new creed and the 
 old best reveals to us the character of the people. The 
 missionaries were too few for the large harvest. People 
 admitted to baptism by the thousand, and on the im- 
 pulse of a moment, could not be well instructed. They 
 little knew what they were doing. Their chief concern 
 was to follow in the footsteps of their chiefs and their 
 kings. With them they forsook their idols ; with them 
 they attended the services and the preachings of the 
 missionaries. It was for the cunning and deceitful a 
 new means of finding favor with their leaders ; it was 
 for the indolent an easy means of keeping themselves 
 clear of suspicion and consequent trouble ; only for the 
 pure and simple-hearted was the new religion a revela- 
 tion. The people, seeing the good monks in favor with 
 
 * Alfred's Bcda. 
 
RELAPSE AND RECOVERY. 89 
 
 their rulers, made it a point to show them respect. But 
 when these same monks went outside the kingdom of 
 their protectors they met with a far different reception. 
 Once, when Augustin and his companions were pass- 
 ing through that part of England now known as Dor- 
 setshire, they were di'iven away with violence, and the 
 tails of fishes were fastened to their robes, ^ This 
 instance might have shown Augustin the aerial struc- 
 ture he was erecting. It was a warning to him that to 
 build solidly he must dig deep down ; to make the 
 new religion permanent he should seek to establish it 
 among the people. Be this as it may, it is certain that 
 with the passing away of the Christian rulers the coun- 
 try relapsed into idolatry. The three surviving bishops 
 in the south lost all hold upon the people. Two of 
 them fled into France ; the third was on the point of 
 following them, when a sense of duty grcAV upon him 
 and overcame his fears, and he remained. The harvest 
 of Paulinus also passed out of his hands on the death of 
 Edwin. He fled with his ward. Queen Ethelberga, and 
 her children to the home of her father, never to return 
 to the land in which he had toiled with such zeal, 
 patience, and apparent success. The English child of 
 impulse rushed back to the religion in which he had 
 been rooted for centuries with a rebound swift and 
 strong as was the rush with which he had embraced the 
 new faich. 
 
 Again the work of conversion begins. This time it 
 comes from another source. Ireland sent her mission- 
 aries. She was then the sanctuary of learning in the 
 West. Men and youths from England and the Conti- 
 
 * Gotselinus, Vita S. Aug.^ cap. xlv. ; Monfalembert, Monks of the 
 Wcst,vol. iii., p. 391 ; Lives of the English Saints — St. Auc/ustine, 241- 
 214. 
 
90 THE OLD CREED AND THE HEW. 
 
 nent flocked to her scliools. The venerable Beda 
 informs us that all were willingly received, and were 
 supplied with food, furnished books, and taught gratu- 
 itously/ So great was the influx of students that they 
 were compelled to encamp in military fashion around 
 the school.^ The classic authors of Greece and Rome 
 were read side by side with the early Fathers of the 
 Church and the Divine Gospel.^ Greek had become 
 such a passion that even Latin was written in Hellenic 
 characters.* We have already described this people. 
 Its missionaries were to be found in Europe and Asia. 
 They were men as fond of travel as they were of lore ; 
 but they were fonder of souls than of either. Among 
 those who left their native land was Columkill, a man 
 of noble blood, but of still nobler character. He was 
 learned ; he had an insatiable thirst for books ; with 
 the instinct of a scholar, he considered no labor too 
 great to procure a new manuscript. His was a fervent 
 soul raised above all manner of meanness. He was a 
 patriot, loving his native land with his last sigh. He 
 was a poet. But he was above all a monk, attached to 
 his monastery and loving the cell in which he enjoyed 
 
 * JEJccl. Hist, iii., cap. 27. 
 
 ^ " In the present instance we have abundant authority elsewhere 
 to show that at and before and after the time of Adamnan (who died 
 in the year 702), such in fact were the crowds of stranger students 
 that flocked to some of our great schools of lay and ecclesiastical 
 learning, that they were generally obliged to erect a village or villages 
 of huts as near to the school as they conveniently could ; and, as in 
 Adamnan's case, to find subsistence in the contributions of the sur- 
 rounding residents." O'Curry, Manners and Customs of iJie Ancient 
 Irish, lect. iv., vol, ii., p. 80. 
 
 3 The Berne Codex of Horace is considered by Orclli to be as early 
 as the eighth century. 
 
 * Keeves's Adamnan, pp. 158, 354. 
 
RELAPSE AXD RECOVERY. 91 
 
 the sweets of prayer and meditation, and transcribed 
 the sacred Scriptures in his own neat hand. In 565 
 this pure soul built a monastery on the island of lona. 
 It soon became famed for its learning and piety. Num- 
 bers flocked to enroll themselves under its great found- 
 er. Other houses were established. Finally, in 635, 
 Oswald asked and obtained some of those Irish monks 
 to preach the Gospel in his kingdom. AiDAisnsr was sent 
 him. No better man could he have received. He was 
 zealous, pious, learned, charitable, and indefatigable ; 
 especially noteworthy was his meekness. So long as he 
 could not speak in English, Oswald acted as his inter- 
 preter.* Even when traveling he studied ; and those 
 who kept him company either read the Scriptures or 
 committed psalms to memory with him.'^ In a few years 
 Northumbria was restored to the Church. Cedd, after 
 having successfully labored with others among the 
 Mercians, brought the priceless boon back to the East 
 Saxons. And so the good work went on till England 
 became Catholic. The year of apostasy came to be 
 regarded with such horror that it was dropped out of 
 the records ; the names of the apostate kings were 
 erased, and no dates assigned to their reigns.^ 
 
 Y. — Shadow axd Substance. 
 
 Contemplate for a moment this transition from the 
 old faith to the new. There were many points in the 
 latter which were within the grasp of the popular intel- 
 ligence, for they only expressed in a new and a purer 
 form things already known. They were told of a 
 hereafter ; they already had faith in a future life. The 
 
 ^ Beda, Eccl. Hist., iii., cap. S. * 
 
 2 Ibid., cap. 5. 
 
 ^ Ibid,, iii., cap. 9. See also the Saxon Chronicle, a. d. 634. 
 5 
 
92 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 doctrine of the resurrection was explained to tliem ; of 
 that too they had some notions. They were told of a 
 place of punishment ; our veiy word for that place has 
 come from the name of a goddess who presided over a 
 similar one in their beliefs ; Hel was the mistress of the 
 cold and joyless world destined for cowards and traitors. 
 They were told of a place of reward for the good and 
 virtuous ; they had themselves often dreamed of Odin's 
 halls and the great Valhalla. They were told that there 
 is but one God ; that truth came to their minds like the 
 recollection of a half -forgotten story ; they had had 
 some faint idea of it ; there was little or no difficulty 
 in clearing away the erroneous parts with which it was 
 coupled. They were told of three persons in one God ; 
 that was a mystery in the presence of which they dared 
 not reason ; yet they remembered how Woden and Hae- 
 nir and Lodur were the three powers that took part in 
 the creation of man. They were told that one of the 
 Divine Persons of the Holy Trinity came on earth as a 
 new-born Babe, that He grew up and lived among men 
 and was put to death — not through any guilt of His own, 
 for He was innocence itself — but to satisfy His Father 
 for the sins of men ; that was to them a story of absorb- 
 ing interest. They compared it with their myth of 
 Baldr. They remembered how he — the beautiful, the 
 innocent, the good and amiable Baldr, the beloved of 
 gods and men — was killed through the malice of Loki ; 
 and in the second coming of Christ they recognized an 
 analogy to the returning of Baldr at the end of time. 
 The new account threw light upon, while it gave point 
 to, the old myth. One was the shadow of which the 
 other is substance. And when a detailed narrative of 
 the life and death of the Divine Saviour was given them, 
 their hearts were touched ; their generous natures were 
 
SHADOW AXD SUBSTANCE. 93 
 
 moved ; they were easily led to turn their indignation 
 on themselves and do joenance for those sins that were 
 the cause of so much suffering. Then, again, the chief 
 festivals of the Church coincided with their holidays. 
 Christmas occurred about the same time with their mid- 
 winter Yule-tide. The Resurrection of the Redeemer 
 was celebrated about the season that they did homage 
 to their goddess Eostre. So far, their understandings 
 easily glided into the new way of thinking. But when 
 there was question of the practice of its precepts, they 
 found themselves short of its requirements. In their 
 bones were imbedded the vices of centuries ; in their 
 blood ran the ferociousness of the Vikings ; in their 
 minds was the lawlessness of the Bersekh'. How change 
 it all ? It might not be done in a day, or in a year, or 
 in a century. Christianity does not change human na- 
 ture so suddenly. It destroys none of man's passions. 
 It only regulates them. It teaches him how to divert 
 them into channels of usefulness. 
 
 The old mythology had a strong hold upon English 
 thought ; it modified English expression ; it originated 
 English words. From Nicor, the spirit of water, are de- 
 rived the term water-nixies and the more familiar one 
 of " Old Nick." ' The old mythology supplied names to 
 their flowers. That known as " Forniotesf olme," or 
 Fomiot's hand, is so called from Fomiot, the old god 
 of the North. It gave some of our most significant 
 words. Little think we, when saying an individual 
 brags, that we are applying the name of a heathen god. 
 But so it is. Bragr is one of the (Esir-gods, famed for 
 wisdom and eloquence ; and the art of poetry was called 
 
 1 Wedgwood derives tlie term from Platt-D. Mkker, the execu- 
 tioner or neck-twister. {Trans. Philol Soc, vol. v., No. 105. Paper 
 read February 21, 1851.) I prefer the derivation in the text. 
 
94 THE OLD CREED AND THE NEW. 
 
 " bragr." But this god is upbraided by Loki for not 
 being; more warlike and fond of battle.^ He is reocard- 
 ed as a loud talker and a little doer. Here already is the 
 idea attached to one who brags. And the names of the 
 days of the week, as well as those of Yule-tide and 
 Easter, are so many relics of the old creed. The same 
 is true of the May-pole. Unconsciously, it is a perpetu- 
 ation of the rites originally performed in honor of Phol.^ 
 So also is the tradition of the boar's head a relic of 
 heathen superstitions. " It is not going too far," says 
 Kemble, " to assert that the boar's head, which yet forms 
 the ornament of our festive tables, especially at Christ- 
 mas, may have been inherited from heathen days, and 
 that the vows made upon it in the Middle Ages may 
 have had their sanction in ancient paganisms."^ Other 
 superstitions also held their own in spite of the new 
 creed. Some of them donned a Christian garment. 
 Such was that celebrated charm for a sprained limb. 
 In the old Continental homestead, it ran as follows : 
 
 Phol endi Wodan Phol and Wodan 
 
 Vuorum zi holza, Went to the wood, 
 Da wart demo Balderes volon Then of Balder's colt 
 
 Sin vuoz birenkit ; The foot was wrenched ; 
 
 Thu biguolen Sinthgunt Then Sinthgunt charmed hiin 
 
 Sunna era suister ; And her sister Sunna ; 
 
 Thu biguolen Frua, Then Frua charmed him 
 
 Volla era suister ; And her sister Folia ; 
 
 Thu biguolen Wddan Then Wodan charmed him 
 
 ^ Edda. Thorpe, Northern Mythology, vol. i., p. 28. 
 
 "^ "In England richtet man allgemein am ersten Mai einen soge- 
 nannten May-pole auf, wobei zwar an pole, pfal, palus ags. pol gedacbt 
 werden kann ; doch diirften Pol, Phol anschlagen." Grimm, Myih.^ 
 p. 581. 
 
 ^ Saxons in England, vol. i., p. 357. 
 
SHADOW AND SUBSTANCE. 95 
 
 S6 he wola conda: As he well could do : [ofUood 
 
 Sose lenrenM^ sose ilaotrenM, Both icrencli of 'bone and icrench 
 
 Sose lidirenTci ; And wrench of limb ; 
 
 Ben zi bena^ Bone to bone, 
 
 Bluot zi bluoda^ Blood to blood, 
 
 Lid zi geliden, limb to limb, 
 
 Sose gelimida sin} As if they were glued together. 
 
 In the new island home this charm was given a 
 Christian turn. It is no longer Wodan and Baldr 
 who have power to cure ; that has been transferred to 
 the Holy Trinity, and especially to the Third Person. 
 So the conjury was made to run thus, while a black 
 woolen thread with nine knots was wound round the 
 injured limb : 
 
 " The Lord rade, 
 
 And the foal slade ; 
 
 He lighted, 
 
 And he righted ; 
 
 Set joint to joint, 
 
 Bone to bone, , 
 
 And sineio to sinew ; 
 
 Heal in the Holy Ghost's name." ^ 
 
 A religion so imbedded in the popular thinking can 
 not be easily uprooted. It is only by a long course of 
 training that the fancy and imagination can be brought 
 to run in the new groove of thought. To that end does 
 the Church bring to bear all her teaching and disci- 
 pline. By degrees she weeds out the tares of the old 
 faith, and plants the seeds of the new. She finds spe- 
 cial difficulty in getting this people to forget its hea- 
 
 ^ Kemhle, ibid,, -p. 364. This was discovered ia 1842, "on the 
 spare leaf of a MS.," at Merseburg. 
 
 ' Chalmers's Nursei'y Tales. A similar charm exists in Holland 
 and Belorium. 
 
96 THE OLD CEEED AND THE NEW. 
 
 then mytliology, its heathen songs, and its heathen 
 rites, especially in connection with wakes and burials. 
 Council after council issues decree after decree ; but at 
 first with slight success. A more effectual method was 
 at hand. A great genius was about to sing the glories 
 of heaven and earth and make Christian truth so ac- 
 ceptable in song that the popular mind willingly lets 
 the heathen imagery drop out of its memory and in the 
 stead fills it with Scripture thought and Scripture allu- 
 sion. Who that genius was and what his influence 
 was we shall now inquire. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WJIITBY, 
 I. — St. Hilda. 
 
 Akd first a word upon her who fostered the genius of 
 Cedmon.^ Rest we on the sea-beaten clifis of Whitby. 
 It was then known as Streanshalh, and received its more 
 
 ^ Mr. Palgrare {Arcliceologia^ toI. xxiv., p. 342) weaves this theory 
 about the poet's name : " Now, to the name Caedmon, whether consid- 
 ered as a simple or as a compound, no plain and definite meaning can 
 be assigned, if the interpretation be sought in the Anglo-Saxon lan- 
 guage ; while that very name is the initial word of the book of Genesis 
 in the Chaldee paraphrase, or Targum of Onkeios : h'Cadmin or h'Cad- 
 mon (the 6' is merely a prefix) being a literal translation of h'Easchith 
 or 'In principio,' the initial word of the original Hebrew text. It is 
 hardly necessary to observe that the books of the Bible are denomi- 
 nated by the Jews from their initial words : they quote and call Gene- 
 sis by the name of b'Raschith ; the Chaldaie Genesis would be quoted 
 and called by the name of 6' Cadmin^ a.nd this custom, adopted b}' them 
 at least as early as the time of St, Jerome, has continued in use until 
 the present day." The word Gaedraon is not found in the Old English 
 dictionaries ; but the word Ced is, and means boat or wherry ; so that 
 Cedmon would mean boatman or wherryman. It is a name still com- 
 mon in Yorkshire. Writing in the last century, Lionel Charlton says : 
 " Cedmon's memory remained in great veneration, not only at Strean- 
 shalh, but also through the whole kingdom of Northumberland, where 
 his name was long honorably used as an appellative or proper name, 
 and after the Conquest was adopted as a surname ; so that there 3'et 
 remain to these our days some families in Whitby and its neighbor- 
 hood that are known by the name of Cedmon or Sedman ; a name with 
 us the most honorable and ancient of all others." {History of Whitby y 
 
98 WHITBY. 
 
 modern name only from tlie Danes. The zealous and 
 devoted Bishop Aidann is still actively at work. It was 
 in 640, at Hartlepool, that he founded the first nunnery 
 in Northumberland, and placed at its head an Irish lady 
 named Heru. Later on he builds a monastery at 
 Whitby. He appoints to govern it the Abbess Hilda. 
 A most remarkable woman was this saint. Baptized 
 at the age of fourteen by Paulinus, she preserved un- 
 spotted the robe of innocence with which, on that day, 
 she was clothed. She lived with her relatives and 
 friends till the age of thirty-three, when she entered a 
 convent in East Anglia and consecrated herself to God. 
 Thence she is called by Aidann to govern the new-built 
 monastery at Whitby. It is a double monastery, hav- 
 ing a house for men and one for women, according to 
 a custom prevalent in those days.^ With both is Hilda 
 
 b. i., p. 17: York, 1'779.) Bouterwek, an authority of great weight on 
 such subjects, finds no difficulty in deriving the name from an Old Eng- 
 lish origin. In a learned dissertation on the subject he says : " Ipsum 
 Cedmonis nomen (cf. Gr. Gr. 2, 507) initio appellativura fuisse, dubium 
 non est. Varise ejus formas sunt : Cedmon, Caedmon, Ceadmon, vox 
 ipsa composita e mon^ vir (cf. Paraphr. p. 89, 3 : flotmon nauta, p. 186, 
 12 ; vraec-mon, fugitivis), et ced^ quod ut in glossis a CI. Monio editis 
 est (p. 331) lintrem denotat. Cedmon tamen non nautam signifieare 
 videtuFj sed potius idem valere quod scegdhmov^ pirata, a scegdh, sceidgh 
 liburna, scapha (cf. Gr. 3, 437, ibique Gl. Monii). Hoc vero nomen 
 nihil infame habuisse, alia ejusmodi veterum nomina, e. g. landsceatka 
 latro, hros-dioph, heriwolf, beowulf cet. satis luculenter testanter (cf 
 Gr. Gr. 3, 785, notam). {De Cedmone^ JElberfeldce, p. 9.) Such stress 
 need scarcely be laid upon the mere name were it not for some at- 
 tempts to build up a theory, to which Mr. Henry Morley inclines, that 
 the Irish monks received their teachings and traditions, not from Rome, 
 but from the East. This is a theory for which the writer, after a dili- 
 gent search, has been able to discover no foundation. 
 
 ^ See Lingard's Antiquities of the Anglo-Saxon Church for exam- 
 ples and authorities, pp. 82,83 ; also Vit. St. Liohce apud Mabillon, 
 Saec. 3. 
 
ST. HILDA. 99 
 
 charged, and well and efficiently does she govern them. 
 The monastery of men becomes a shrine of learning and 
 science, and is noted as the nursery whence issued 
 several saintly bishops. The prudence, tact, and holy 
 life of the abbess extend their beneficial influence far 
 beyond the convent-walls. Bishops and kings consult 
 her under difficulties.^ Contesting parties refer their 
 feuds to her and abide by her decision. Her tact in 
 this respect was noteworthy. ISTo one ever thought of 
 appealing from her word. She died in 680, in her sixty- 
 third year, deplored by all, and left in the north of Eng- 
 land a name undimmed by centuries. Her memory is 
 still kept green by the gratitude of a people to whose 
 ancestors she was a benefactor. Everything strange 
 or wonderful in the neighborhood of Whitby occurs 
 through her interposition. Nothing hurtful might ap- 
 proach her abode. Wild geese could not fly over her 
 monastery.'^ Ammonites abound in that district ; to 
 the fancies of the people they are snakes turned to stone 
 by the dear St. Hilda. Under favorable circumstances 
 a mirage may be seen in one of the windows of the 
 ruins of the church still standing ; it is the dear St. 
 Hilda, who continues to show her love for the good 
 people of Whitby, by watching over them from this 
 window.^ Childish fancies these of a childlike people, 
 
 ^ Butler, Lives of the Saviis, vol. iv., p. 370. 
 
 ^ Camden. 
 
 ^ A paper that was formerly printed and sold in Whitby alludes to 
 these legends. It may be found in Grose's Antiguiii.es of England^ 
 vol. vi., p. 163, Therein St. Hilda is represented as speaking in the 
 following rude verses, written with more affection than good taste : 
 
 "Likewise a \\indow there I placed, 
 That you might see me as undressed : 
 In morning gown and night-rail there, 
 All the day long fairly appear. 
 
100 WHITBY. 
 
 Avho tlius embody tbeir gratitude and devotion in legend 
 which outlives history and hard fact. By us she is to 
 be remembered as the person who encouraged and drew 
 out the genius that was to revolutionize the popular 
 heathen mind. She was the fast friend of Cedmon. 
 
 II. — The Stoey of Cedmon's Life unraveled. 
 
 The life of Cedmon^ lies buried in fable and obscu- 
 rity. But through the mists in which his name is envel- 
 oped we can discern enough whereby to know that he 
 was advanced in years before he became a monk ; that 
 prior thereto he was an eminently pious man ; that he 
 sought rather to obey the dictates of his conscience than 
 to please men ; that his genius was appreciated in his 
 own day, and that he was regarded as one of the bright- 
 est glories of his age. The first glimpse we get of him 
 is at festivals and entertainments. On such occasions, 
 when the guests were well filled with meat and warmed 
 uj) with beer, it was customary for each to contribute 
 to the common amusement of all by singing a song. To 
 this we find Cedmon uniformly objecting. When he 
 saw the musical instrument approach, he arose from the 
 table and went home. At first sight such conduct would 
 mark him as being unsocial. Why might he not let the 
 harp 2:>ass him by ? Others there were who could not 
 sing, and still who remained and enjoyed the occasion. 
 The usual penalty for such delinquencies was to be com- 
 pelled to take a certain quantity of beer in one drink. 
 He might have paid the penalty or allowed himself to 
 
 At the west end of the church you'll see 
 Nine paces there, in each degree ; 
 But if one foot you stir aside, 
 My comely presence is denied ; 
 Now this is true what I have said, 
 So unto death ray due I've paid.'* 
 
THE STORY OF CEDMON'S LIFE UNRAVELED. IQl 
 
 be mulcted in some other way, and not have persistently 
 marred the pleasures of the festival by leaving in so 
 abrupt a manner. Reason there must have been, and 
 reason there was, for the strange proceeding. Cedmon's 
 was no sullen disposition. It is not, as the Venerable 
 Beda informs us, because he could not, so much as be- 
 cause he would not sing, that he left the festive hall so 
 frequently. His companions knew that he could sing, 
 and in all probability anticipated from him the crowning 
 effort of the occasion. It was to avoid their displeasure 
 and perhaps their anger by a direct refusal, that he 
 chose to leave at some favorable moment prior to the 
 placing of the harp in his hand. And what were those 
 songs he did not choose to sing ? They were not the 
 pretty sentimentalities of modern drawing-rooms. Such 
 things were unknown in Cedmon's day. They were not 
 soundings of the deeper feeling of love. That too, as 
 has been seen, was unknown to the English nature as a 
 sentiment to be sung and played with. "That culti- 
 vated feeling," says Sharon Turner, " which we call love, 
 in its intellectual tenderness and finer sympathies, was 
 neither predominant nor probably known. The stern 
 and active passions were the rulers of society, and all the 
 amusements were gross or severe." ^ They might have 
 been martial lays ; but to these Cedmon would scarcely 
 have objected. He who sang so well of the warrings 
 of the angels in heaven, and described so graphically 
 the submersion of Pharaoh's hosts, could not find it in 
 him to refuse to chant a strophe of the Fight of Finnes- 
 burgh, or sing the deeds of Beowulf. He had sung 
 them from boyhood ; he had been fired by their spirit ; 
 he knew them by heart ; they were part of his think- 
 ing. Not to these did he have repugnance ; but there 
 ' Anglo-Saxons, vol. iii., p. 263. 
 
102 WHITBY. 
 
 was another species of song popular at festivals, which 
 it grieved his soul to listen to. It was the mythic deeds 
 of Thor and Odin, and the other pagan gods, that he 
 refused to sing. " It might easily be proved," says Dr. 
 Guest, " that our fathers had poems on almost all the 
 subjects which were once thought peculiar to the Ed- 
 da." ^ And there was still another kind of poetry, which 
 was at first connected with the rites and ceremonies of 
 the pagan religion, and which, long after these rites and 
 ceremonies had fallen into disuse, continued to be sung 
 at festivals and wakes. It was a practice common to 
 many of the Teuton races. And the songs used were gen- 
 erally of a most unspeakable character.^ Now, as late as 
 the middle of the ninth century, Leo lY. forbade the Sax- 
 ons to sing the diabolical hymns which the common peo- 
 ple were accustomed to sing over their dead.^ This was 
 the singing that shocked Cedmon's Christian sensitive- 
 ness. It clouded the sunshine of his naturally convivial 
 disposition. He felt that it was unworthy of a Chris- 
 tian's lips to utter, or a Christian's ear to listen to. He 
 saw that no good came of it. And once he was at an 
 entertainment in the neighborhood of Whitby Abbey ; 
 the company was in a rejoicing mood ; the beer flowed 
 freely ; the harp was taken up ; one of the f casters be- 
 gan to sing ; the song was of this objectionable kind. 
 Cedmon could not endure it ; he left the hall in sadness. 
 With heavy heart he went out to the stable to take care 
 of the horses. It was the custom for one of the com- 
 pany to guard the horses during the night ; for at this 
 
 ^English Rhjthms, vol. ii., p. 241. 
 
 2 Thus of the Lombards did Gregory the Great write : " More sue 
 iramolaverunt caput caprae diabolo, hoc ei per circuitum curreutes et 
 carmiiie ncfando dedicantes.'''' Greg, M. Dialog.^ iii., cap. 2S. 
 
 ^ See Wackernagel, Das JVessebrunncr Gebot^ p. 25. 
 
THE STORY OF CEDMON'S LIFE UNKAVELED, 103 
 
 time honesty was not one of ttie English virtues, and 
 theft was considered a crime only when detected. In 
 his solitude the heinousness of these pagan songs among 
 a Christian people weighs him down. It is a thought 
 that has been growing upon him. For some time past 
 he has been asking himself if there is no way by which 
 to banish this last remnant of paganism still clinging to 
 the English mind. While revolving the subject in his 
 heart, he looks across the plain and discerns the lights 
 from Streanshalh stream in upon him. He remembers 
 the Abbess Hilda ; he thinks of the good monks who 
 live under her mild and motherly protection ; he is not 
 unmindful of the calm and peaceful life they lead ; he 
 contrasts it with the rude scenes through which he has 
 frequently to pass. He remembers the boisterous feast- 
 making from which he came, and then he thinks that 
 just at that very moment those good monks and nuns 
 are also rejoicing, but after another fashion. They too 
 express their sentiments in canticles of gladness and 
 sorrow as varied as the emotions of hunian nature. 
 " Th^re," he said to himself, " is heaven upon earth ; 
 there are men and women leading angels' lives, and, like 
 those around the throne of God, singing the praises of 
 their Creator." Thereu^^on he muses upon heaven ; he 
 remembers the angelic choirs ; he feels his soul within 
 him flutter with eager desire to sing of the abode of the 
 blessed, of the creation of the world, of the ways of 
 Providence toward men ; and then and there he deter- 
 mines to render himself worthy of the honor of singing 
 of these high themes by purifying his heart still more, 
 and making it a fitting instrument to be played upon by 
 the Divine Hand. He resolves to consecrate the remain- 
 der of his days to the noble purpose of making poems 
 that will supersede the shameful songs that still bind so 
 
104 WHITBY. 
 
 many Christian hearts to the pagan world of thought. 
 Then and there does he feel the new mantle of inspiration 
 descend upon him ; he sings the creation ; he dreams of 
 it ; he remembers the next morning the lines he had com- 
 posed the night previous ; he also remembers his good 
 resolution. He goes to the " town-reeve, who is his eal- 
 dorman," ^ and tells him of his purpose. The latter brings 
 him to the Abbess Hilda. He repeats to her the intro- 
 ductory lines he improvised on the Creator and His 
 works. She calls together several of the learned men 
 in her monastery, and has Cedmon to repeat his verses 
 before them ; for she is first desirous of knowing 
 whether the verses he repeats are his own, or whether 
 or not he is an impostor. But they all of them are fa- 
 vorably impressed with his rare talents. " They con- 
 cluded," says Beda, "that heavenly grace had been 
 conferred on him by our Lord." Still they resolve to 
 put him to a further test. They recite for him some 
 passages from the Holy Scriptures ; these they explain 
 to him, and request him to compose some verses on them. 
 He goes home, constructs his poem, and returns next 
 morning with the whole idea done up in most excellent 
 poetry. St. Hilda is delighted. Embracing the grace 
 of God in the man, she encouraged him to adopt the 
 monastic habit.^ He did so, and she associated him with 
 the brethren in her monastery, leaving instructions that 
 he be taught sacred history. And as he learned its mean- 
 ing and spirit, he turned various parts of the sacred 
 Scripture into English poetry. 
 
 The English language had never before clothed such 
 
 ' Alfred's translation of Beda. 
 
 "^ " Unde mox abbatissa amplexata gratium Dei in viro, saecularum 
 ilium habitam relinquere, et monachicum suscipere propositum docuit." 
 Tlid. Eccl.^ lib. iv., cap. 24. 
 
THE STORY OF CEDMOX'S LIFE UNRAVELED. 105 
 
 sublime thoughts. Never was its power of expression 
 stretched to its full bent. N^one but the greatest genius 
 could render it adequate to the themes. But Cedmon 
 was equal to the task. He succeeded admirably. His 
 poems became popular. " The revolution," says Guest, 
 " effected by Cedmon appears to be complete." ^ All 
 imitation of his works only showed how inimitable they 
 were. " Others after him," says Beda, " attempted, in 
 the English nation, to compose religious poems, but 
 none could ever compare with him." ^ He created that 
 intense and earnest religious feeling in the popular mind 
 which was so prevalent down to the days of the Venera- 
 ble Beda.^ The pagan hymns became less frequent. The 
 strong light of his bright song dimmed their last rays. 
 Expressions so forcible and verses so hai'monious laid 
 strong hold upon the popular thinking. The man sing- 
 ing so beautifully must have been inspired by Heaven. 
 So thought the people. And some among them had a 
 dim recollection of a great poet who had been first a 
 shepherd, and, having learned how to sing in a dream, 
 remembered what he had composed in his sleep, sang it 
 next day and continued to sing beautiful things till 
 death. It mattered little to them about the name; but 
 among them was a poet who must have learned after 
 some such manner. Let us recall the earlier myth. It 
 is related of Ilallbiorn that he was a shepherd lad who 
 watched his flock near by the grave of the poet Thor- 
 leifr. One day he took it in his head to sing a hymn of 
 praise in honor of the poet; "but," we are told, "be- 
 cause the lad was entirely uneducated, he was unable 
 
 * Rhythms, ii., p. 241. 
 ^ Ecclesiastical History, b. iv., ch. 24, 
 
 ^ Wright, Essay on Anglo-Saxon Literature, in Biographia Briian- 
 nica Liieraria, vol. i. 
 
106 WHITBY. 
 
 to carry out his pious design. Then, one night did the 
 hillock open up, and a stately man walked up to the 
 shepherd, touched his tongue, repeated a verse aloud for 
 him, and returned to his grave. When Hallbiorn awoke 
 he remembered the verse which he had heard, and from 
 that day forth became a celebrated poet." ^ Thus it 
 was that Cedmon had come to be regarded as a divinely 
 insjDired shepherd. 
 
 III. — The Themes Cedmon^ san^g. 
 
 Once more we catch a glimpse of the man. He him- 
 self lifts the veil for us. He is at the pinnacle of his 
 fame; old age is closing upon him with an iron grasp; 
 friends are dropping away from him into the grave; the 
 old faces have passed; the new ones may have more ad- 
 miration for his genius, but he can not make them bosom 
 friends. A large stone cross is to be erected. It is a 
 costly monument, a great artistic effort for that day. 
 Our Lord is represented as standing on two swine. A 
 Latin inscription tells us that He is a judge of equity, 
 and that the wild beasts acknowledge the Saviour of the 
 world in the desert.'* Lower still Paul and Anthony 
 are pictured breaking their loaf in the desert; another 
 Latin inscrijption speaks the fact. But, as in olden times 
 similar stone monuments had the praises of some heathen 
 god inscribed in Runic characters, so is it now desired 
 
 ^ Bouterwek, CcedmorCs Dichiungen, Vorrede. Cf. Grimm, Myth.^ 
 855. Pausanias relates a similar tradition of .^schylus : " jEsehylus 
 says of himself that when a boy he once fell asleep in a field, where he 
 was watching some grapes, and that Bacchus appeared to him in a 
 dream and exhorted him to write tragedies." (Lib. i., cap. xxi., 2, p. 28, 
 ed. Dindorfii.) Pausanias lived about a. d. 1*70. 
 
 '^ " Jesus Christus judex aequitatis. Bestias et dracones cognoverunt 
 in deserto salvatorem mundi." 
 
THE THEMES CEDMON SANG. 107 
 
 to have a Christian hymn perpetuated upon this. Who 
 is so capable as Cedmon ? Time and again, as he him- 
 self tells us, has he composed such inscriptions. And in- 
 to this, his last, he seems to have thrown his whole soul. 
 He has a dream, in which the Rood speaks to him and 
 recounts its feelings and emotions as the Redeemer was 
 transfixed to it: 
 
 " Metliouglit I saw a Tree in mid-air hang — 
 Of trees the brightest — mantling o'er with ligl it- streaks; 
 A beacon stood it, glittering with gold." ^ 
 
 Long lay he, looking with sorrow upon the Healer's 
 Tree — Hmlendes treow — till at last it spake and told 
 how it grew upon the wood's edge, was cut down and 
 set upon a hill. It says : 
 
 " I spied the Frey ^ of man with eager haste 
 Approach to mount me ; neither bend nor break 
 I durst, for so it was decreed above, 
 Though earth about me shook." 
 
 And then the Rood tells the whole story of the suf- 
 fering and death and burial and resurrection of the 
 Saviour. It further speaks of its becoming honored 
 since that memorable event, though once it was reck- 
 oned " hardest punishment, loathliest among men, ere 
 life's way it had made straight and broad to speech- 
 bearing: mortals." For which it considers itself hon- 
 ored more than all other trees, even as — 
 
 ^ " Thuhte me thoct ic ge?a\ve syllicre treow 
 On lyfte laedan, leohte bewunden, 
 Beama beohrtost. Eall tliaet beacen waes 
 Begoten mid golde." 
 ^ Frey is the god of peace. When its mythological significancy 
 was lost, it became an epithet of honor for princes, and is found fre- 
 quently applied to our Lord and God the Father. Notice that Cedmon 
 
108 WHITBY. 
 
 " His Mother, Mary's self, Almighty God 
 Most worthily hath raised above all women." 
 
 And now the poet enters into himself and expresses 
 his great confidence in obtaining salvation through the 
 Cross. This confidence is all the greater inasmuch as 
 he hath sung its glories so frequently : 
 
 " Soul-longings many in my day I've had, 
 My fife's hope now is that the Tree of Triumph 
 Must seek I. Than all others oftener 
 Did I alone extol its glories ; 
 Thereto my will is bent, and when I need 
 A claim for shelter, to the Rood I'll go. 
 
 Of mightiest friends, from me are many now 
 Unclasped, and far away from our world's joys ; 
 They sought the Lord of Hosts, and now in heaven, 
 "With the High-Father, live in glee and glory ; 
 And for the day most longingly I wait, 
 When the Saviour's Rood that here I contemplate 
 From this frail life shall take me into bliss — 
 The bliss of Heaven's wards : the Lord's folk there 
 Is seated at the feast; there's joy unending; 
 And He shall set me there in glory, 
 And with the saints their pleasures I shall share." ' 
 
 gives the expression to the Rood, but nowhere in the poem uses it 
 himself. 
 
 ^ The Ruthiocll Cross. The Runic form of this poem was first cor- 
 rectly deciphered by Kemble. The whole poem was afterward found 
 in the Vercelli Book. The dialect of the lines on the Ruthwell Cross 
 is regarded by Mr. Kemble as " that of Northumbria in the seventh, 
 eighth, and even the ninth centuries" (Archceologia, vol. xxviii.). 
 Professor George Stephens made a special study of the Cross and dis- 
 covered an additional Rune attributing the poem to Cedmon. It reads : 
 Ccedmon mce faucetho. See The Ruthwell Cross^ by Professor George 
 Stephens, F. S. A., London, 1866. The version in the Vercelli Book is 
 in more modern dialect than that in Runes. Some attribute the poem 
 to Cynewulf ; he may have retouched it, and given it its present form. 
 
THE THEMES CEDMON SANG. 109 
 
 The poem breathes throughout charity, sweetness, 
 piety. It is a dream, an allegory, the forerunner of the 
 numerous dreams that subsequently figure in English 
 literature : of Langland's, and Chaucer's, and Lydgate's, 
 and Dunbar's, and John Bunyan's. But this wail of 
 Cedmon for the friends of other days, with which the 
 poem closes ; this longing hope soon to join them ; this 
 living by anticipation in the celestial mansions — is the 
 last glimpse we get of the man till the hour when his 
 desires are to be fulfilled and his poetic soul passes from 
 the beauties of earth to th^ bliss of heaven. 
 
 Living in so elevated a sphere of thought, Cedmon 
 could find it in himself to write nothing but what 
 tended to elevate and spiritualize the aspirations and 
 emotions of h^iman nature. The Venerable Beda bears 
 testimony to this effect : " He never could compose 
 frivolous and useless poems, but those alone pertaining 
 to religion became his religious tongue." ^ But withal, 
 wide was the range of his themes. He did not confine 
 himself to the mere paraphrasing of Scripture, or alle- 
 gorizing upon the Rood. He also sang of the Divine 
 attributes ; of the judgments and the mercy of God to 
 men ; of the beauty of virtue and the hideousness of 
 vice ; but he sang with such fervor and persuasion that 
 he led many from their evil ways to the practice of 
 good deeds. This is no fictional assertion. The his- 
 torian takes the pains to inform us of it. "By his 
 verses," says the Venerable Beda, "many were often 
 excited to despise the world, and to aspire to heaven." 
 As they became part of the people's thinking, the rec- 
 ollections of paganism faded out into the dim mists of 
 
 ^ " Nihil unqiiam frivoli et supervacui poematis facere potuit ; sed ea 
 tantummodo quae ad religionem pertinent, religiosam ejus linguam de- 
 cebant." Hist. EccL^ lib. iv., cap. xxiv. 
 
110 WHITBY. 
 
 the past, occasionally to be remembered in order to 
 weave a legend about some Christian great one, such as 
 that they applied to Cedmon himself. 
 
 IV. — The Secret of Cedmojs^'s Success. 
 
 The secret of his success was twofold — it lay in his 
 great genius and in his holy life. Of the first it is not 
 easy at this distance of time to form an adequate idea. 
 Conceive a people with the ignorance and mental inac- 
 tion of centuries weighing them down and making them 
 of the earth, earthy ; knowing only the use of the in- 
 struments of war and the chase ; brutal in their habits ; 
 material in their thoughts ; their uncouth natures slight- 
 ly glossed with a varnish of Christianity ; Christian in- 
 deed in name and in creed, but pagan in many of their 
 customs and manners — conceive all this, and then re- 
 member that this people is daily witnessing scenes of 
 war and bloodshed. The old English chroniclers record 
 them with an admirable coolness : " a. 658. This year 
 Kenwalh fought against the Welsh at Peonna. . . . 
 A. 661. This year, during Easter, Kenwalh fought at 
 Pontesbury, and Wulfhere, the son of Penda, laid the 
 country waste as far as Ashdown. . . . And Wulf- 
 here, the son of Penda, laid waste Wight, and gave the 
 people of Wight to Ethelwalde, King of the South Sax- 
 ons, because Wulfhere had been his sponsor at baptism. 
 ... A. 675. This year Wulfhere, the son of Penda, 
 and Escwin, the son of Cenfus, fought at Beaden-head. 
 . . . A. 676. And Ethelred, King of the Mercians, 
 laid waste Kent. ... a. 679. This year Elfwin was 
 slain near the Trent, where Egfrid and Ethelred fought, 
 and St. Etheldrida died." The death of a saint, a bat- 
 tle, the slaying of a man, are all told in the same breath ; 
 they are all of them events of almost daily occurrence. 
 
THE SECRET OF CEDilON'S SUCCESS. m 
 
 These are the scenes in which Cedmon lived and moved. 
 In the midst of all this din he raised his voice and was 
 heard. He sang the substance of which all the ancient 
 myths were but the shadow. He led men to forget 
 more and more the pagan past ; to exchange the dirges 
 on the death of Baldr for the doleful strains on the 
 Saviour's passion ; to let the glories of Valhalla be- 
 come dimmed by the more spiritual and real splendors 
 of the heavenly kingdom. This was a great work ; it 
 was a noble task ; it was molding the popular mind 
 into new shape ; it was helping to spiritualize their na- 
 tures ; it was preparing the soil for the seeds of grace. 
 None but the greatest genius could have achieved it all. 
 He brought the Oriental imagery of the Bible within 
 the comprehension of the humblest English mind ; he 
 draped it in the English fashion of thinking ; he made 
 its purely spiritual language palpable to the English 
 imagination. He did it in language musical and flow- 
 ing. His verses have been the admiration of all those 
 who gave them attention. " His accent," says Guest, " al- 
 ways falls in the right place, and the emphatic syllable 
 is ever supported by a strong one. His rhythm changes 
 with the thought — now marching slowly with a stately 
 theme, and now running off with all the joyousness of 
 triumph, when his subject teems with gladness and ex- 
 ultation." ^ 
 
 But the holiness of his life no less than the strength 
 of his genius added weight to his words, and made 
 them strike with such force. The Venerable Beda 
 bears testimony to his virtues. He was an eminently 
 religious man, fond of prayer, devoted to the reception 
 of the sacraments of the Church, attentive and punc- 
 tual in the performance of his various duties. He was 
 ' Rhythms^ ii., p. 50. 
 
112 WHITBY. 
 
 a cheerful worker in God's service, submissive in all 
 things to the will of his superiors, happy when he saw 
 others the same ; but he was the terror of those whom 
 he found disorderly and lagging in their duties toward 
 their Creator. Having entered religion late in life, he 
 was prepared to appreciate its quiet, peaceful, undis- 
 turbed ways, as he contrasted them with the fickleness 
 and boisterousness of the world he had abandoned, and 
 he thought that others should in this respect feel as he 
 felt. His happy, cheerful disposition — always prepared 
 with a kind word or a pleasant saying — tended to make 
 the religious life attractive to others. There was no- 
 thing gloomy in his piety. He was no friend of mo- 
 roseness. This last he regarded in its true light, rather 
 as a hindrance than a help to genuine religious feeling. 
 Leading such a life, how else could his death be than 
 happy also ? And such the Venerable Beda tells us it 
 was. Let us linger over his last days, and watch the 
 going out of that brilliant meteor of English song. To 
 be able to stand by the death-bed of England's first 
 great poet is a rare privilege. For some time a disease, 
 the nature of which is not mentioned, had been under- 
 mining his constitution ; during two weeks he felt it 
 weakening him beyond recovery ; and now he feels 
 that the day of his dissolution is at hand. Nothing 
 daunted, he moves about among his brethren ; his 
 cheery soul sheds sunshine into their hearts ; in what- 
 ever mood he finds them, he leaves them with a laugh- 
 ing face and a pleasant thought. The evening of this 
 last day he walks over to the infirmary, and asks those 
 in attendance to prepare a bed for him, which they do 
 with no small share of surprise. He stays up till after 
 midnight, keeping everybody enlivened with his plea- 
 sant conversation. Midnight passed, he asked to com- 
 
THE SECRET OF CEDMON'S SUCCESS. 113 
 
 municate in tbe reception of the holy Eucharist. And 
 they answered : " What need of the Eucharist ? for 
 you are not likely to die, since you talk so merrily with 
 us, as if you were in perfect health." But he insisted 
 on receiving it, and according to the custom of that 
 day it was placed in his hands. He then asked those 
 around him whether they were all in charity with him 
 and free from rancor. There was only one answer — a 
 unanimous " Yes." How else could they be with such 
 a genial companion, holy religious, and great poet ? 
 He was full of life and humor ; he had frequently made 
 them laugh, but it was not at the expense of charity, 
 it was not by giving pain to others. So, when the same 
 question was put to him immediately after, well might 
 he say, " I am in charity, my children, with all the ser- 
 vants of God." But the ruling passion asserted itself 
 even in death. Cedmon desires to hear once more the 
 praises of God sung, before he goes to sing them in 
 heaven in union with the angelic choirs and the friends 
 who passed before him. He would have his soul waft- 
 ed upon the song of prayer and benediction ascending 
 from the chapel near by. So he asks how soon the time 
 was when the brothers were to sing the nocturnal 
 praises of the Lord ; and, when told that it was not far 
 off, he said, "Let us await that hour"; and, signing 
 himself with the sign of the cross, he laid his head on 
 the pillow, and, falling into a slumber, his soul passed 
 away.^ A death befitting his life. 
 
 Let us now address ourselves to that which still lives 
 of him — his spirit as embodied in his poetry. 
 
 ^ Bed a, loc. cit. 
 
114 WniTBY. 
 
 V. — Cedmoist at Work. 
 
 Cedmon's genius, in its first flight, disdains all mid- 
 way courses, and soars into the celestial empyrean. With 
 the deeds of human heroes he is familiar ; but he will 
 none of them. In praise of his holy Creator alone — 
 Heaven's Ward — will he attune his harp. The gods of 
 his English ancestors have been extolled ; right proper 
 is it then that the true God — the Glory-King of hosts — 
 have a lay dedicated to Him. And so the poet bursts 
 forth into a most eloquent prelude ; every word is brim- 
 ful of meaning ; every line bends beneath the weight of 
 his theme, and word and line show each alike how he 
 labored to grapple with his subject in a manner adequate 
 to its dignity : 
 
 " Mickle right it is that we, heaven's guard, 
 Glory-King of hosts ! with words should praise, 
 With hearts should love. He is of powers the efficacy ; 
 Head of all high creations ; 
 Lord Almighty ! In Him beginning never 
 Or origin hath been ; but He is aye supreme 
 Over heaven-thrones, with high majesty 
 Eighteous and mighty." ^ 
 
 Never, in the history of Old English thought, was 
 such a poetic beginning heard. It is the song of a soul 
 strong in its convictions of the greatness and majesty of 
 Him it extols. This is the passage said to have been 
 composed by the poet that memorable night he watched 
 in the stable. Then follows a brief account of the re- 
 bellion and fall of the angels, which, in all probability, 
 was the theme given him by the learned men of the 
 community as a test ; for he afterward reverts at length 
 
 ^ Guest's translation in English Hhi/ihms, vol. ii. 
 
CEDMON AT WORK. 115 
 
 to the same subject. The description is vividly English. 
 God is a stern Overlord who treats his adversaries with 
 an iron hand. " Stern of mood he was ; he gript them 
 in his wrath ; with hostile hands he gript them, and 
 crushed them in his grasp." This was succeeded by- 
 peace. On earth, it was a rare thing in his day ; so he 
 sings of it in heaven: 
 
 " Then as before was peace in heaven — 
 Fair peaceful ways ; the Lord beloved of all — 
 The ruler of His Thanes — in splendor grew ; 
 The good all bliss fuU-sharing with their Lord." * 
 
 As the subject grows upon the poet in all its great- 
 ness, he also rises with it. Could we be witnesses of 
 the labor with which, as he pondered over verse after 
 verse of the Bible, he struck out those flashes of light 
 that shone in his day, and are not yet dimmed, we 
 would see a giant-like struggle between matter and 
 spirit ; the limited utterance and the unbounded desire ; 
 the strong determination breaking up the new field of 
 poesy with fierce energy. He read the opening of Gen- 
 esis. The awful sublimity of those words penetrated 
 him : " And the earth was void and empty, and dark- 
 ness was upon the face of the deep, and the Spirit of 
 God moved over the waters." "^ Some expressions in it 
 reminded him of his old English cosmogony. " The 
 earth was void and empty" : "This," thought he, "is 
 the Ginunga-gap, the yawning abyss, of which my an- 
 
 ' " Tha waes soth swa aer, sibb on heofnuni — 
 faegre freotho-theawas ; frea ealluni leof — 
 theoden Iiis thegnum — thrymmas weoxon ; 
 dugutha mid drihtne dre^m-haebbendra." 
 
 Thorpe's Ccedmon^ p. 5. 
 
 2 Genesis i. 2. 
 6 
 
).16 WHITBY. 
 
 cestors sang. I must sing of it too without introducing 
 the flesh and bones of Ymir." Therefore he sang : 
 
 " Here yet did naught exist save cavern shade, 
 But deep and dim did stand this wide abyss." ^ 
 
 And in these lines, if the poet remembered, he also 
 anticipated. The "wide abyss" — wida grund — is the 
 Ginunga-gap — the yawning abyss — of the Edda ; but 
 so also is the " cavern shade " — heolster-sceado — the 
 " darkness visible " of Milton.'* Again, the coloring of 
 the older poems of his English ancestors clings to his 
 description of things in that beginning of times. He 
 remembers how it was sung : " When Ymir lived no 
 earth was found, nor heaven above ; one chaos all, and 
 nowhere grass.^^ ^ These were not the words, but they 
 were clearly the idea in his mind when he dictated or 
 penned these lines : 
 
 " Earth's surface was 
 With grass not yet l)egreened ; while far and wide, 
 The dusky ways, with black, unending night, 
 Did ocean cover."* 
 
 Thus he worked in the smithy of his brain, as he 
 hammered out his golden verses. Thus he brought the 
 Scripture-thoughts within the grasp of the popular mind. 
 But as he advances he leaves behind him still more the 
 imagery of the past, and accommodates himself more 
 closely to the new order of ideas. Even his meter 
 
 ' " Ne waes her th4 giet nymthe heolster-sceado 
 
 wiht geworden, ac thes wida grund stod deop and dim." Ihid. 
 « Cf. Job X. 22. " Edda. 
 
 ^ " Folde waes tha gyt 
 graes ungrine : garsecg theahte 
 sweart synnihte side and wide, 
 thonne waocjas." II. 122-'5. 
 
CEDMON AT WORK. Hf 
 
 changes to suit Ms mood. Thus, when discoursing on 
 heaven and on the prerogatives of Satan, the line length- 
 ens out into most solemn expression : 
 
 *' So fair was he made — so beauteous his form 
 Received from the Lord of hosts — he was bright 
 As are the bright stars. His task was to praise 
 The works of his Lord; his heavenly joys 
 To cherish most dear ; their Giver to thank 
 For beauty and light upon him bestowed." 
 
 Long might Satan have enjoyed his glory in heaven. 
 But he began to plot. The poet read of it in Isaiah : 
 " How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, who 
 didst rise in the morning ? how art thou fallen to the 
 earth, that didst wound the nations ? And thou saidst 
 in thy heart : I will ascend into heaven ; I will exalt 
 my throne above the stars of God ; I will sit in the 
 mountain of the covenant, in the sides of the north ; I 
 w^ll ascend above the height of the clouds ; I will be 
 like the most high." ^ Upon this passage he builds up 
 a long argument of plotting on the part of Lucifer : 
 
 '' ' Wherefore,' he said, ' shall I toil? 
 No need have I of master. I can work 
 With my own hands great marvels, and have power 
 To build a throne more worthy of a God, 
 Higher in heaven. Why shall I, for His smile, 
 Serve Him, bend to Him thus in vassalage ? 
 I may be God as He. 
 
 Stand by me, strong supporters, firm in strife. 
 Hard-mooded heroes, famous warriors. 
 Have chosen me for chief; one may take thought 
 With such for counsel, and with such secure 
 Large following. My friends in earnest they, 
 
 ^ Isaiah xiv. 12-14. Cedraon may also have known the poem of 
 S. Avitus — De Spiriialis Hiftiorice Gcsfis — written about 490. 
 
118 WHITBY. 
 
 Faithful in all the shaping of their minds ; 
 I am the master, and may rule this realm.' '* * 
 
 Such rebellious language is severely punished. Sa- 
 tan and his adherents are cast into the infernal regions. 
 These the poet also describes at length. Here again he 
 combines the Scripture account of hell with the ancient 
 English idea of it. To his ancestors fire had no terrors ; 
 it was rather the cold, dreary, inactive life that made 
 hell unendurable to them. Therefore, Cedmon combines 
 the two ideas : 
 
 " Each fiend through long and dreary evening, 
 Hath fire renewed about him ; cometh then, 
 Ere dawn, an eastern wind, fierce cold upon it — 
 The dart of tire or frost must rankle there — 
 Some hard aflQiction each must ever have." ^ 
 
 In this abode of suffering Satan addresses his com- 
 panions in misery. He bemoans his plight. He surveys 
 the torments by which he is surrounded. But the most 
 unendurable of all is the thought that Adam is to take 
 his place in heaven. Here the poet has some truly sub- 
 lime touches. He combines, in a rare degree of excel- 
 lence, dramatic action with descriptive power. The 
 abrupt manner, and the sudden turn of expression, 
 couched in the strongest language possible, speak of an 
 enraged soul. We miss fiendish acuteness, but we find 
 in its stead pride and churlishness enough : 
 
 * Morley's version m A First Sketch of English Literature^ p. 19. 
 ^ " Thaer htebbath heo on ef}n ungemet lange 
 eaira feonda gehwilc, fyr edneowe : 
 thonne cymth on ulitan easterne wind, 
 forst fyrnum eald symble fyr oththe g^r 
 sum heard geswinc habban sceoldon." 
 
CEDMON AT WORK. 119 
 
 "And Satan spake — he who in hell should rule, ^ 
 Govern th' abyss henceforth — in sorrow spake. 
 God's angel erst, in heaven white he shone, 
 Till urged his mind, and most of all his pride, 
 To do no honor to the Lord's sweet word. 
 "Within him boiled his thoughts about his heart; 
 Without, the wrathful fire pressed hot upon him — 
 He said : ' This narrow place is most unlike 
 That other we once knew in heaven high. 
 And which my Lord gave me ; though own it now 
 We must not, but to Him must cede our realm. 
 Yet right He hatli not done to strike us down 
 To hell's abyss — of heaven's realm bereft — 
 Which with mankind to people He hath planned. 
 Pain sorest this, that Adam, wrought of earth. 
 On my strong throne shall sit, enjoying bliss. 
 While we endure these pangs — hell-torments dire — 
 Woe ! woe is me ! could I but use my hands 
 And might I be from here a little time — 
 One winter's space — then with this host would I — 
 But press me hard these iron bands — this coil 
 Of chain — and powerless I am, so fast 
 I'm bound. Above is fire; below is fire; 
 A loathlier landscape never have I seen ; 
 Nor smolders aye the fire, but hot throughout. 
 In chains ; my pathway barred ; my feet tied down ; 
 Those hell-doors bolted all; I may not move 
 From out these limb-bands ; binds me iron hard — 
 Hot-forged great grindles ! God has griped me tight 
 About the neck.' " 
 
 And so Satan continues addressing his associates, 
 asking them, to stand by him and not fail in the strife. 
 " Heroes stern of mood — renowned warriors — they have 
 chosen me for chief." The whole passage reminds one 
 of the sublimest strains in Paradise Lost. There is less 
 reasoning in Cedmon ; he is more objective ; the suffer- 
 
120 WHITBY. 
 
 ings of his Satan are all physical, except the one pang 
 of envy he feels at the thought that man is to be in- 
 stalled in his place. Milton is more subjective ; his Sa- 
 tan despises the mere physical pain ; it is the agony of 
 mind incident upon humiliation and defeat that weighs 
 upon him. Cedmon tells us of his hero's pride ; we 
 feel the pride of Milton's Satan. This difference is due 
 to the respective ages in which they lived. In Cedmon's 
 day men did not analyze feelings and emotions ; they 
 acted and suffered and endured and spoke out the re- 
 sults of their thinking rather than its processes. When 
 Milton wrote, thought was more developed ; men were 
 more reflective and analyzing, and it was natural for 
 them to enter into the springs and motives of action. 
 
 But man must be made to share these hell-torments. 
 So forthwith Satan undertakes to tempt him. He ar- 
 rives in the garden of Paradise. There are the trees of 
 good and evil. " The fruit was not alike. . . . The one 
 was so pleasant, so fair and beautiful, so soft and deli- 
 cate." He might have life eternal who ate of that. 
 " There was the other, utterly black ; that was death's 
 tree, which much of bitter bare." There was no mis- 
 taking them. Satan pretends to be a messenger from 
 God. Adam receives him with suspicion ; tells him he 
 understands God's commands, but naught of what he 
 says. Satan pretends displeasure, threatens his Master's 
 vengeance for the insult offered. Thereupon Adam asks 
 him for some pledge or token by which he may know 
 him to be sincere ; but Satan has none, and forthwith, 
 like a good keeper of his Overlord's place, Adam bids 
 him begone : " Therefore I can not thee obey, but thou 
 mayst take thee hence." But Satan, nothing daunted, 
 " turned him wroth of mood to where on earth's realm 
 he saw the woman Eve standing, beautifully formed." 
 
CEDMON AT WORK. 121 
 
 With her he is successful in his evil design ; for the 
 poet takes care to assure us, " to her a weaker mind had 
 the Creator assigned." ^ But Cedmon treats Mother Eve 
 with great tenderness. He seeks to palliate the evil she 
 brought upon herself and the whole human race : " Yet 
 did she it through faithful mind ; she knew not that 
 hence so many ills, sinful woes, must follow to man- 
 kind." However, the deed is consummated, and now it 
 is Satan's turn to rejoice : " Then laughed and played 
 the bitter-purposed messenger." Such is the story of 
 the Fall, as sung by Cedmon. He siligs it as he might 
 have sung any domestic episode. We would not take 
 it as the measure of his power. But later on, when he 
 describes the flight of the Israelites and the destruc- 
 tion of Pharaoh, the poet is at home. Then the whole 
 strength of his genius breaks out. The old Bersekir 
 blood rises in him. He is no longer the historian, nor 
 is he the translator. He is the true poet, the seer. The 
 vision is before him in all its dread reality. The old 
 spirit that used to be fired with such themes as the Battle 
 of Finnesburgh, inspires *him to rival that soul-stirring 
 poem. We will not attempt a metrical version. We 
 prefer transcribing a literal rendering ; it retains more 
 of the original fire. See, for instance, with what an 
 apparent relish he paints preparations for battle : " They 
 prepared their arms ; the war advanced ; bucklers glit- 
 tered, trumpets blared, standards rattled ; they trod the 
 nation's frontier ; around them screamed the fowls of 
 war ; the ravens sang greedy of battle — dewy-feathered. 
 Over the bodies of the host — dark choosers of the slain 
 — the wolves sang their horrid even-song." This is the 
 language of one who has vividly before him what he 
 
 * " Haefde hire wacran hige 
 Metod gemearcod." Ccedmon^ Thorpe's ed., p. 37. 
 
122 WHITBY. 
 
 pictures to the mind's eye. And now the destruction of 
 Pharaoh and his host begins. Note the torrent of words 
 in which it is told : 
 
 " The folk were affrighted, the flood-dread seized on their 
 sad souls; ocean wailed with death ; the mountain-iieights were 
 with blood besteamed, the sea foamed gore ; crying was in the 
 waves, the water full of weapons; a death-mist rose; the 
 Egyptians were turned back; trembling they fled, they felt 
 fear; gladly would that host find their homes; their vaunt 
 grew sadder ; against them, as a cloud, rose the fell rolling of 
 the waves ; there came not any of that host to home, but from 
 behind inclosed them fate with the wave. Where ways ere lay 
 sea now raged. Their might was merged, the streams stood, 
 tiie storm rose high to heaven, the loudest army-cry the hostile 
 uttered ; the air above was thickened with dying voices ; blood 
 pervaded the flood, the shield-walls were riven ; shook the fir- 
 mament that greatest of sea-deaths. . . . The bursting ocean 
 whooped a bloody storm the seaman's way; till that the true 
 God through Moses's hand enlarged its force, widely drove it, it 
 swept death in its embrace. . . . Ocean raged, drew itself up 
 on high, the storms rose, the corpses rolled. . . . The Guar- 
 dian of the flood struck the unsheltering wave of the foamy 
 guKs with an ancient falchion, that in the swoon of death these 
 armies slept." * 
 
 This passage has about it the epic ring. It was with 
 full zest the poet sang his tale of destruction : " The 
 bursting ocean whooped a bloody storm .... the storms 
 rose, the corpses rolled." Were we not told that it was 
 all the work of the true God, we might well imagine we 
 had found another relic of the Vikings in their fierce pa- 
 gan days. It is in such passages, in which we pass be- 
 hind the poem and its Scriptural basis, that we are en- 
 abled to measure the strength of the poet's genius. He 
 
 * Ccedmon, xlvii,, p. 206, Thorpe's edition. 
 
CEDilOX'S INFLTJEXCE AT HOME AND ABROAD. 123 
 
 not only speaks the old language ; he also thinks in the 
 old routine of thinking, with his thoughts somewhat 
 purified ; but there is no ideal above that of personal 
 bravery or brute force ; anything higher was yet be- 
 yond the grasp of the Old English mind ; the spiritual 
 element is there, but it is still a foreign element. The 
 poet never rises above the sublimities of the Bible ; he 
 frequently lowers them to bring them within the com- 
 pass of the popular thinking. His heaven is no longer 
 the Valhalla of the Teutonic ]N"orth. It becomes a cost- 
 ly, well-ordered church : " There the gate is golden, 
 fretted with gems, with joys encircled for those who 
 into the light of glory — to God's kingdom — ^may go ; 
 and round the walls appear beauteous angel-spirits and 
 blessed souls — those who from hence depart ; where 
 martyrs give delight to the Creator and praise the Su- 
 preme Father — the King in his city — with holy voices." 
 Had he spoken otherwise he would have been ill under- 
 stood ; his genius would have failed of reaching the 
 general intelligence. He would not have fulfilled his 
 mission. 
 
 YI. CeDMOx's IffFLUENCE AT HOME A:N^D AbROAD. 
 
 The poetry of Cedmon was a revelation to the peo- 
 ple. It brought the sublime thoughts of the Bible 
 within their grasp. It enlarged their views of Chris- 
 tian teachings. It solved in a manner primitive enough, 
 but satisfactory for them, some of the questionings that 
 must have arisen in their souls on hearing recounted 
 the history of God's wonders from the beginning. It 
 gave palpable shape and form to many of the mysteries 
 of religion. The rebellion of the angels ; the fall of 
 man ; original sin, and its consequences, became hence- 
 forth no longer vague notions, but rather, living, pres- 
 
124 WHITBY. 
 
 ent tilings to their minds. Is it not told how the angels 
 fought and fell, and how they were punished ? Is not 
 their abode of torment described ? And have we not 
 the very words of Lucifer ? And do we not listen to 
 Adam and Eve discoursing over the apple ? Are not 
 the words that Satan spoke to Eve recorded therein ? 
 It is all a new mythology, substituted for the old. It 
 is a framing in which to group the truths of Christian- 
 ity and the history of God's providences. Later, the 
 same framing will be slightly modified for a similar 
 purpose, and it will be known as the Miracle-play. 
 Milton will adopt it in his epic, and the popular mind 
 will be educated to regard almost as positive truths the 
 imaginary descriptions there given of things unseen. 
 
 Cedmon educated the tastes of the people to an 
 appreciation of the sacred Scriptures. From his day 
 forth the Old and I^ew Testaments become popular 
 with the English. Henceforth they are, in a sense, the 
 people's horn-books. And Cedmon's song is remem- 
 bered and his name revered for centuries after his voice 
 has become silent in the grave. The unknown Christian 
 poet, who gives us the extant version of the poem of 
 Beowulf, becomes so unmindful of the pagan people of 
 whom he sings, that he introduces the Gleeman singing 
 Cedmon's song of the creation : 
 
 "And sound of harp was there ; sweet sang the poet ; 
 He told the origin of men from far — 
 Told that the Almighty wrought the earth — tlie plain 
 In beauty bright embraced by waters; 
 And. victor-proved, the sun and moon did set — 
 Light-giving flames to dwellers on the land ; 
 And decked earth's varied parts with boughs and leaves, 
 And eke created life of every kind." \ 
 
 1 Beowulf^ i., 180, et seq. 
 
CEDMON'S INFLUENCE AT HOME AND AERO AD. 125 
 
 Thus it is that the poet preserves the tradition of his 
 brother-poet's song. And the historian, in the person 
 of the Venerable Beda, crystallizes in his immortal 
 pages the glory and the greatness of his name, the love- 
 liness and saintliness of his life. Xor is this all. 
 
 In the ninth century his poems became known in 
 France. Louis the Pious introduced them. This good 
 monarch, not content that the knowledge of the divine 
 books be confined to the learned and erudite, resolved, 
 and by the interposition of Providence it was so man- 
 aged, that all his subjects speaking the German lan- 
 guage should become familiar with them. So speaks 
 the Latin Preface to the paraphrase. ' And, in qrder to 
 show how Providence aided the King, it adds : A cer- 
 tain person ordered a man of the Saxon race, who was 
 esteemed a great poet, to devote himself to the poetical 
 translation into the German of the Old and the l^ew 
 Testament, so that the sacred reading of the divine 
 precepts be opened to learned and ignorant alike.'^ 
 The work of translation was easy. The language of 
 Cedmon was kindred to the language of Louis. In 
 spite of variations of dialect, the people of one nation 
 had but slight difficulty in understanding the idiom of 
 the other. Long previously had commercial relations 
 been established between them. They were Franks 
 whom St. Augustin took with him as interpreters, on 
 his first going to England.^ Xo doubt the Preface 
 
 ' This Preface is found among Hincmar's letters : Magna Biblio- 
 tlieca Veterum Patrurn^ Labigne, Paris, 1654, t. xvi., p. 609. 
 
 2 " Precepit namque quidam viro do gente Saxonum, qui apud suos 
 non ignobilis vates habebatur, ut vetus ac novum Testamentum i:i 
 Germanicam linguara poetice transferre studeret, quatenus non solum 
 literatis, verum etiam illiteratis, sacra divinorura praeceptorum lectio 
 panderetur." Ihid. 
 
 3 Butler, Lives of the Salits, ii. p. 2'7S. And F. Schlegcl, speaking 
 
126 WHITBY. 
 
 wished to pay a compliment to Louis, when it gave him 
 the credit of ordering the translation. Be this as it 
 may, it adds the more important information that the 
 poet sang from the creation of the world to the end of 
 the Old and the New Testament, interpreting and ex- 
 plaining as he went along so lucidly and elegantly that 
 he delighted all who heard and understood. It then re- 
 fers to his having received his powers in a dream. " It is 
 said that this same poet, while yet entirely ignorant of 
 his art, was admonished in a dream to arrange the pre- 
 cepts of the sacred law in a style suitable to his own 
 tongue." This is evidently a tradition of the legend 
 told by the Venerable Beda in the previous century. 
 A poem attached to the Preface speaks still more 
 clearly of his peasant origin.^ That the poet was 
 appreciated, may be learned from the rather fulsome 
 praise of the Preface : *' So great was the fluency of 
 his works, so great shone the excellence of the matter, 
 that his poetry surj)assed all German poems by its pol- 
 ish. The diction is clear ; clearer still is the sense." ^ 
 And this, be it remembered, was no publisher's adver- 
 tisement. It was written after the poems had been 
 
 of the poems collected by Charlemagne, makes this important re- 
 mark : " I have little hesitation in saying that I believe those poems 
 to have been composed in the old Saxon language, the same in which 
 Alfred wrote, and which was spoken by Charlemagne himself, when- 
 ever he did not make use of Latin ; for we must remember that the 
 favorite residence of Charlemagne was in the Khenish Netherlands, the 
 old patrimony of the Frankfs, whose language was originally trie same 
 with that of the Saxons." History of Literature, lect. vii., p. 173. 
 ^ " Incipe divinas recitare ex ordine leges, 
 
 Transferre in propriam clarissima dogmata linguam ; 
 Nee mora, post tanti fuerat miracula dicti : 
 Qui prius Agricola, mox et fait ille Poeta!''' 
 
 Versus de Poet'x, et inferprete hujus Codicis. Bib. Pair., 
 loc cif. ^ Ibid. 
 
CEDMON'S INFLUENCE AT HOME AND ABROAD. 127 
 
 some time among the people. It only records a fact. 
 They had already won popular favor. And, after all, it 
 is scarcely less praise than that bestowed on them by 
 Beda. True, the poet is not named in the Preface ; 
 but the coincidence in the lives of the poets, in the sub- 
 ject-matters of their poetry, in the unanimous testi- 
 mony to its excellence and influence, is too great not to 
 admit of identity. Both are of the people ; both are 
 admonished in a dream to sing the sacred truths of reli- 
 gion ; both sing of the creation ; both paraphrase the 
 Old and New Testaments ; the productions of both are 
 universally lauded. It is because both are one, and 
 that one is Cedmon. 
 
 And now, it would seem as though his spirit con- 
 tinued to live and labor through the whole Teutonic race. 
 In France and Germany, as well as in England, Scrip- 
 ture paraphrasings became the popular rage. They 
 are the drama and the novel of the people. They are 
 more. They are not read or listened to for amusement's 
 sake. They are pored over and dwelt upon with pas- 
 sionate earnestness, to be lived and acted out. Through 
 them, the people become familiarized with the thoughts 
 and deeds of the Redeemer, and learn to follow them 
 more closely. Some of these old horn-books of that day 
 have come down to us. We have the poem called 
 Krist ; ^ we have a song of the Samaritan Woman ; "^ we 
 have a poem on the Last Judgment ; ^ translations of 
 several psalms, and a harmony of the four Gospels, called 
 Heliand.^ This last was widely known and highly 
 prized. There are extant traditions of its poj^ularity in 
 
 ' Ottfried, Konigsberg, 1831. ^ Schilter, Thesaurus, vol. ii. 
 3 Ibid. 
 
 * J. Andreas Schmeller, Stuttgart, 1830. This is mainly a print of 
 the Cotton MS. in the British Museum. 
 
128 WHITBY. 
 
 Germany and England/ It is written in a dialect to be 
 understood by both nations. There has been much 
 conjecture as to the authorship. Schmeller thinks it 
 was written by an English missionary. Grein wished 
 to identify it with that of the translation made in the 
 time of Louis the Pious, but with no success. Evidently 
 this version is of the ninth century, and the production 
 of some ecclesiastic intimate with the Scriptures, and at 
 least aware of the apocryphal Gospels ; for he tells us 
 that many disciples of Christ endeavored to write God's 
 holy word with their own hands in a magnificent book ; 
 only four were chosen, and to them were given " God's 
 power, help from heaven, the Holy Spirit, and strength 
 from Christ : nuiht godes' helpafanhimila'helagnagast' 
 craft fan christmP Now, be it remembered that about 
 the time this form of poetry became so general, English 
 missionaries returned to Christianize their kinsfolk in 
 the old homestead ; hosts of them, under Willibrord 
 and Boniface, invaded Friesland and Germany, bringing 
 with them the light and life of the Gospel and the 
 Church. They were not unmindful of the experience 
 and traditions of other days in their own country ; that 
 which was so skillful a weapon in the hands of Cedmon, 
 and Aldhelm, and Beda himself, they did not neglect. 
 It may have been the same songs they repeated ; it was 
 certainly the same in sense, and in the same spirit, that 
 they sang. It is Cedmon who still speaks. 
 
 ]!^or is he forgotten later. The sole manuscript of 
 his works that is known to be extant is of the tenth 
 
 ^ " Poema istud non solum in Anglia, sed etiam in Germania et 
 quideni Wirceburgi extare, teste G. Eceardo (in Monum. vet. Quater- 
 nione^ Lipsite, MDCCXX,, fol. 42, et in Comm. de rebus Francice or. 
 MDCCXXIV., torn, ii., fol. 325), jam pridem inter antiquitatum cu- 
 riosos rumor fuerat." — Schmeller, Prefatio Edlforis, p. viii. 
 
CEDMON'S INFLUENCE AT HOME AND ABROAD. 129 
 
 century, and even that is fragmentary. It is divided 
 into two books, and of these only the first is continu- 
 ous ; the second is hopelessly broken up. The MS. is 
 in the Bodleian Library. It is illuminated. Some of 
 the scenes represented are evidently those Avhich, in 
 that early day, must have been enacted in the Miracle- 
 plays. The tradition of the creation and fall, as pre- 
 served in these plays, is that handed down by Cedmon. 
 But in this manuscript we must not look for the identi- 
 cal poem that Cedmon sang. In passing from genera- 
 tion to generation for three centuries, various changes 
 must have imperceptibly entered into the text. A ver- 
 sion in the West-Saxon dialect might not conform to 
 that in the ]*^orthumbrian ; meddlesome scribes might 
 occasionally undertake to improve the poem ; others, 
 again, might be too ignorant to write it correctly ; and 
 so, from one cause to another, while the general tenor 
 would remain, special passages might read differently. 
 This accounts for the discrepancies in the reading of 
 the opening lines of the poem, as found in King Al- 
 fred's translation of the Venerable Beda's " Ecclesias- 
 tical History," and in the manuscript. ISTo doubt Ced- 
 mon would be at some trouble to identify the songs he 
 sang with the present transcript of them. But he is not 
 alone in this respect. Imagine Tasso coming among the 
 gondoliers of Venice as they chant his " Jerusalem De- 
 livered.^' And would not Shakespeare and ^schylus 
 be equally at a loss to recognize in our modern texts of 
 their masterpieces the verses they indited ? The MS. 
 belonged to Usher, who gave it to Francis Junius or 
 Dujon. This latter it was that assigned the poem to 
 Cedmon, and as Cedmon's had it printed in 1655. And 
 Dujon had a friend to whom he communicated his liter- 
 ary projects ; that friend was then in his forty-seventh 
 
130 WHITBY. 
 
 year, and was meditating a grand epic ; he saw this 
 MS.; no doubt he received a copy of the printed poem 
 from his friend ; it decided his subject and its treat- 
 ment ; the materials he had collected for a Miracle-play 
 he made use of in this new project, and forthwith he 
 produced a work of great genius. That man was Mil- 
 ton, the poem was " Paradise Lost." ^ 
 
 Here terminates the direct and immediate influence 
 of Cedmon. Beyond whatever of expression and allu- 
 sion may have been preserved by Milton, or passed into 
 our thinking through current forms of expression, that 
 influence is for us dead. We may rehabilitate the 
 poet's life and imagine the times in which it was spent ; 
 but those times are past, and with them the magnetism 
 of his influence. It remains but as a record. 
 
 ^ Johnson's " Life of Milton," WorkSy vol. ii., p. 33. Recent criti- 
 cism attributes the second part of Genesis to a poet of the ninth cent- 
 ury. It may be so to a certain extent. The style and treatment are 
 more modern and more introspective than the recognized style and 
 treatment of Cedmon. But it is none the less the spirit of Cedmon 
 that speaks. We have not overstated the genius and influence of our 
 first great Christian poet. For a synopsis of the various opinions held 
 concerning the division and authorship of various parts of the poem 
 ascribed to Cedmon, see Ten Brink, Early English Literature, chaps, 
 iv. and viii., and appendix, pp. 371-386. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 CANTERBURY. 
 
 I. — Theodoee and Aldhelm. 
 
 Pass we from the north to the south. Leaving 
 Whitby, let us go to Canterbury. It is the primatial 
 see of England. It is occupied at this time by Theo- 
 dore OF Tarsus (602-690). He comes to England in 
 his mature years. He brings with him the traditions of 
 the East and the Greek learning. He has a copy of 
 Homer and other classic authors, and into their beauties 
 he initiates the youths who sit at his feet.^ His schol- 
 ars become as versed in Greek and Latin as in their 
 mother-speech.^ He gave an impetus to Greek studies 
 that continued long after his death. Students wrote 
 their prayers in the Greek language before they had 
 mastered its alphabet.' He is no less skilled in the art 
 of healing the body than in that of curing souls. He 
 
 ^ Lombarde says that he was shown by Archbishop Parker "T/i<? 
 Fsaller of David and sundry homilies in Greek — Homer also and 
 some other Greek authors, beautifully written on thick paper with the 
 name of this Theodore prefixed in the front, to whose library he rea- 
 sonably thought (being thereto led by show of great antiquity) that 
 they some time belonged." {Perambulation of Kent^ 15*76, p, 233; 
 Edward, Memoirs of Libraries^ vol. i., ch. ii., p. 101). 
 
 2 Beda, Hid. Eccl.^ lib. iv., cap 2. 
 
 3 There is a MS. in the British Museum, bearing date of 703, with 
 Greek prayers written in English characters. (MSS. Cott. Galba., a. 18.) 
 
132 CANTERBURY. 
 
 initiates his disciples into tlie secrets of medicine. And 
 with him is a congenial soul, well versed in all the 
 knowledge of the day ; that soul is Adeiais". He labors 
 with his friend and superior and shares his renown. 
 Beda speaks of him as a man most active and most pru- 
 dent.' But Theodore has imbibed in a special manner 
 Gregory's spirit of administration. He organizes the 
 English Church and welds it all the more firmly with 
 Rome. He prepares a code of public penance for sins 
 committed, that enters into details as minute as the laws 
 of the land. He builds churches in better style than 
 was previously known in England. He has lead put 
 upon the roofing, and glass placed in the windows — 
 "such glass," remarks Eddius, "as permitted the sun 
 to shine within," ^ In this manner does the Chronicle 
 speak of his death : " a. d. 690. This year Archbishop 
 Theodore died ; he was bishop twenty-two years, and 
 he was buried at Canterbury ; and Berthwald succeeded 
 to the bishopric. Before this the bishops had been Ro- 
 mans, but from this time they were English." This 
 little comment tells more than a volume of the effi- 
 ciency of the work done. English youths had been 
 trained to the extent of being found worth}'- of the 
 highest church dignities in the land. The spirit of unity 
 and hannony was abroad. 
 
 And there were other boons brought to England by 
 Theodore. He imparted to English youths the tradi- 
 tions of the East concerning the Saviour and His dis- 
 
 ^ " Viro 9eT[ue stretiuissimo as prudentissimo Adriaiio." ( Vita Ben- 
 Bis^ p. 715, Migne edition.) 
 
 ^ See Dean Hook's Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury^ vol. i., 
 p. 15*7. This book has some merits, but its treatment of Theodore is 
 very flippant. It does him evident injustice in attributing to him un- 
 orthodox opinions on the sacrament of penance. 
 
TIIEODOEE AND ALDKELM. I33 
 
 ciples. He taught them the unwritten law of that mys- 
 terious land. And he encouraged them to transcribe 
 it in their own language, and after their own fashion. 
 Among his disciples none was more promising than 
 Aldhelm (656-719). 
 
 Maildulph, "a Scot, as they say, by nation, a phi- 
 losopher by erudition, and a monk by profession," ^ 
 settled in the place now called after him Malmesbury. 
 He was poor in this world's goods ; but in their stead he 
 possessed learning and zeal in abundance. Among his 
 first disciples was Aldhelm. The reputation of the 
 school at Canterbury under the management of Adrian 
 attracted the young Englishman thither ; and, after per- 
 fecting himself in all the learning taught there, he re- 
 turned to the poor abode of his first master, obtained a 
 grant of the land on which it stood, applied his ample 
 patrimony to the building of a monastery, and devoted 
 his noble life to the savins: of souls. He soon became 
 abbot, and was afterward made bishop. He was the 
 bosom friend and counselor of Ini and his pious queen. 
 He was a man of varied accomplishments : a linguist 
 knowing Latin and Hebrew, and so versed in Greek 
 that Faricius tells us he wrote and pronounced Greek 
 like the Greek nation ; a musician as well ; and William 
 of Malmesbury says he had so fully imbibed the liberal 
 arts that he was wonderful in each of them and unri- 
 valed in all. But Aldhelm was above all a poet. He 
 delighted in scattering figures and studied phrases over 
 everything he said. He frequently degenerates to tur- 
 gidity in his Latin works. This in a great measure is a 
 fault of his age. Men regarded learning with a certain 
 awe. They rejoiced in overcoming difficulties ; they 
 
 ^ William of Malmesbury, History of the Kings of England^ b. i., 
 ch. ii., p. 28. 
 
134 CANTERBURY. 
 
 looked not to results ; they were content with the new 
 thought, the new form of expression, as is the child 
 with the new bauble. Therefore it is that Aldhelm's 
 standard of excellence consists in making fantastic ar- 
 rangements of speech and overcoming verbal technical- 
 ities. He has all the figures of rhetoric on his fingers' 
 ends. He writes a treatise on the subject. He has a 
 technical name for every word he pens and every ex- 
 pression he uses. He is a master-mechanic in the art 
 of constructing sentences. And he knows it. Here is 
 his sign-board : " The leaky bark of our feeble inge- 
 nuity, shaken by the whirlwind of a dire tempest, may 
 attain late its port of silence by laborious rowing of the 
 arms ; yet we trust that the sails of our yards, swelling 
 with the blasts of every wind, will, notwithstanding 
 their broken cables, navigate happily between the Scyl- 
 las of solecism and the gulf of barbarism, dreading 
 the rocky collisions of vain-glory and the incautious 
 whirlpool of self-love." ^ This style was admired, and 
 Aldhelm was regarded as the most accomplished writer 
 of his day. His poetic style is more subdued. And 
 though he invents for himself all manner of difiiculties, 
 he is still over florid. However, matter makes up for 
 manner. Aldhelm is the knight of virginity. It is the 
 theme nearest his heart. He writes on it in prose ; he 
 sings its praises in verse : 
 
 " See how the lilies deck the fruitful furrow ; 
 And blusheth on its thorny bush the rose, 
 Which crowns the victor-wrestler and becomes 
 The garland for the winner in the course: 
 So purity, subduing rebel nature, 
 Wins the fair diadem which Christ awards." " 
 
 * Apud Turner, History of England^ vol. iii., p. 405. 
 ^ Lib. Lx., De Laude Virginum. 
 
THEODORE AND ALDHELII. I35 
 
 This is strange language for a descendant of the wor- 
 shipers of Frigga. Could his ancestors rise in their 
 graves they would stand agape with wonder. And still 
 this poem was not merely understood in Aldhelm's day ; 
 it was admired ; the reading of it led a queen to em- 
 brace the state he extolled so eloquently/ 
 
 But this elegant scholar is not content with writing 
 Latin poems for learned nuns.'* He also ministers to the 
 wants of the people. His heart beats in sympathy with 
 them ; he yearns to see them elevated into a more re- 
 fined and more spiritual atmosphere ; he knows the power 
 of poetry over their slow-moving intelligences ; he ap- 
 plies the gift with which he has been endowed, and sings 
 for them in their mother-speech. Forgetting his learn- 
 ing, he brings himself down to the level of those chil- 
 dren in intellect, and makes use of language and expres- 
 sion within their grasp. Forgetting bis dignity, he 
 stands on a bridge and sings for them hymns so sweet 
 and impressive that two centuries later — in the days of 
 Alfred — they still linger in the popular memory. What 
 these hymns were we may best learn from the specimens 
 that have come down to us from the school of Theodore 
 and Adrian. One of them has been attributed to Aid- 
 helm by Jacob Grimm. That it belongs to his age, and 
 that it is of his school, is certain.' 
 
 ^ Cuthburga. William of Malmesbury, History of the Kings of 
 England, § 35. 
 
 2 See Lingard's Anglo-Saxon Antiquities, ch. x., p. 189. 
 
 3 It is also highly probable that the original MSS. of his English 
 poems were destroyed when the Malmesbury Library was sacked and its 
 valuable contents scattered. " An antiquary who traveled through 
 that town many years after the dissolution, relates that he saw broken 
 windows patched up with remnants of the most valuable MSS. on vellum, 
 and that the bakers had not even then consumed the stores they had ac- 
 cumulated, in heating their ovens." (Apud Maitland, Dark Ages, p. 281.) 
 
136 CANTEKBURY. 
 
 II.— The Poem op Andeeas. 
 
 That poem is called Andreas.^ It is a legend of St. 
 Andrew and St. Matthew. The pious curiosity of the 
 first Christians naturally asked what became of the apos- 
 tles, and their imaginations soon filled in the details his- 
 tory failed to give. They became the themes of a new 
 epic cycle. 
 
 Each apostle traveled into distant lands, and worked 
 miracles, and converted the people, and became a hero 
 in the land of which he was an apostle. It was a new 
 conquest of the world. And so it had its poets. An 
 episode of this cycle is Andreas.^ St. Matthew, with 
 his disciples, is taken prisoner by a cannibal people called 
 
 ^ Text : It is found in the MS. discovered by Blume in Vereelli, in 
 1836. Jacob Grimm publisiied it with notes and introduction in 1840. 
 Ill 1853, J. M. Kemble edited it for the ^Ifric Society. Eemble is dis- 
 posed to place the poem in the eleventh century. But though his schol- 
 arship is unquestionable, he is so very arbitrary in his speculations 
 that his critical judgments have to be taken with caution. I am dis- 
 posed to place it in the eighth century for these reasons : 
 
 1. The poem is based upon a Greek MS. called Upd^eiS 'Aj/Speou Koi 
 Mardala, and after the eighth century the study of Greek died out in 
 England. This Greek MS. may be seen in the Bibliotheque Nationale 
 at Paris. 
 
 2. The old epic form of expression is too predominant for any pe- 
 riod later than the eighth cAitury, 
 
 3. When the poet becomes personal, he speaks of his own style in the 
 same depreciatory manner which we have already seen Aldhelm use. 
 
 4. It is evident that the original legend must have been introduced 
 by Theodore or Adrian. Their disciples learned it, and who more apt 
 than Aldhelm ? If not Aldhelm, then most assuredly Cynewulf. Ten 
 Brink ascribes it to Cynewulf. Dr. Fritzsche attributes it to a poet of 
 the school of Cynewulf {Anglia, ii, pp. 441-496). 
 
 ^ "The Codex Apocryphus Novi Testamenti^ published by Fabri- 
 cius, contains a brief abstract of this legend." (T. Arnold, Manual 
 of English Literature, 4th ed., p. 12.) 
 
THE POEM OF ANDREAS. I37 
 
 Mermedonians. St. Andrew is warned by a voice from 
 heaven to go to Ms aid. At first he raises objections ; 
 but being reassured that all would be well, he resolves 
 upon setting out : 
 
 "Then was the errand to the noble champion 
 Proclaimed- in the town : not slack was his intent, 
 But steadfast, hard, and noble-minded he 
 In his great work ; no skulker from the battle ; 
 Ready lor war; to do God's battle stout, 
 And bold in thought, he went at break of day 
 Across the sand-hills to the seashore, 
 His thegns with him — upon the sand they went. 
 The ocean sounded, loud the sea-streams dashed ; 
 He hopeful grew when on the strand he found 
 A ship wide-bosomed. Came resplendent morn, 
 Of beacons brightest hastening o'er the waves ; 
 From out the darkness heaven's candle shone 
 Holy o'er the lake-floods." ^ 
 
 The peaceful Andrew is made a war-beast, a chief 
 with his following. It is the old epic casing in which is 
 put the simple thought that he prepared and went down 
 to the seashore. A boat is in readiness manned by no less 
 personages than the Deity and two of his angels. " Near 
 the sea-warder, then sat himself the holy one — noble by 
 the noble. Never heard I that in a comelier ship laden 
 with lofty treasures men sat, glorious kings, beauteous 
 thegns." ^ This is a reminiscence of the saga of Woden 
 playing the ferryman to deliver men from danger. A 
 storm arises ; ocean roars ; the abyss is excited, deeply 
 vexed. It is proposed that the followers of Andrew go 
 to the land and await his return. But like true thegns 
 they prefer to share his dangers. " We shall be odious 
 
 * Codex Vercellensis, ed. Kemble, p. 15. 
 ^ Ibid., p. 21. 
 
138 CANTERBUKY. 
 
 in every land — hateful to the people." ^ This we have 
 seen to be one of the first principles instilled into the 
 English youth. Andrew and his companions fall asleep, 
 and in the morning find themselves lying on the beach 
 in Mermedonia. Unseen he enters the city : " The man 
 famous of mood stepped on the street ; the road directed 
 him ; none of men might recognize — none of the sin- 
 ful see — him ; the Lord of triumphs had upon the plain 
 fenced the dear chieftain with his protection." ^ Here 
 is the work of the mythical tarn-cap without the name. 
 Thus protected he comes to the prison. The seven 
 guards drop dead : " Death destroyed them all ; power- 
 less they fell ; the death-rush clutched them, a sword- 
 bloody hero." ^ Easily might we imagine that it is an- 
 other Grendel who is playing havoc. The traditional 
 epic style clings throughout to the descriptions. An- 
 drew's touch opens the prison-door. Hear how the poet 
 tells it : " Soon he attacked the door through hand-touch 
 of the Holy Ghost, and entered there, mindful of valor, 
 the man a war-beast." The Christian narrative and the 
 heathen wording are distinctively visible. Andrew en- 
 ters. Matthew is rejoiced to see his bosom-friend : " Each 
 clasped the other in his arms ; they kissed and embraced 
 each other." Matthew and his companions are released, 
 and, like the Israelites of old, pass out of the town under 
 a pillar of cloud. We are told their number. It was 
 two and a hundred and forty and women besides. Here 
 ends the first part of the story. 
 
 And now comes the hour of trial for Andrew. The 
 people expect to feast on the prisoners. Rage seizes them 
 
 * Codex VercellensiSj p. 23. ^ Ibid., p. 67. 
 
 2 " Ealle swylt fornam, 
 Druron domlease, deathraes forfeng, 
 Hseleth heorodreorig " {U. 1988-'91). 
 
THE POEM OF ^\:N'DREAS. I39 
 
 when they realize their disappointmeut. But they must 
 have human food. So they cast lots among themselves. 
 The lot falls upon an old man ; but he gives them his 
 son in his stead. Andreas pities the youth, and j^rays 
 to God for him. Him God defended " holy from above 
 against the heathen peojDle ; he commanded the weapons 
 of the men, likest unto wax, in the onset to melt away." ^ 
 So in Seowidf, the good sword of the hero had no effect 
 upon the monster. A demon reveals Andrew to the 
 people. In their rage they seize and drag him among 
 the "mountain dens and along the streets paved with 
 stones of many colors." Wounded and exhausted, he 
 is thrown into prison, and then a cold winter's spell sets 
 in. Here is the poet's description : " Snow-bound the 
 earth with winter-casts, cold grew the storms with hard 
 hail-showers ; and rime and frost, hoary warriors, locked 
 up the dwellings of men. . . . Frozen were the lands ; 
 with cold icicles shrunk the water's might ; over the 
 river-streams the ice made a bridge, a pale water-road." 
 Here is more than personation. " Rime and frost, hoary 
 warriors" : these were real gods in the Northern my- 
 thology.'^ But Andrew suffers not ; his wounds are 
 healed before morning, as were the wounds of the he- 
 roes of old in the Northern sagas ; and from the blood 
 he lost sprung up blooming bowers. " Then looked 
 behind him the dear champion ; ... he saw blowing 
 bowers stand, laden with blossoms, where before his 
 
 ^ J. Grimm, Andreas tend Elcne, p. 34. 
 
 2 " Frost the old 2s orse seer discerns to be a monstrous, hoary JiJtun, 
 the giant TJirym or Hrym. . . . Rime was not then, as now, a dead 
 chemical thing, but a living Jotun or devil ; the monstrous Jotun Rime, 
 drove home his horses at night, sat 'combing their manes' — which 
 horses were Hail-clouds or fleet Frost-windsy (Carlyle, Heroes and 
 Hero- Worship.) 
 7 
 
140 CANTERBURY. 
 
 blood had spilled." His virtues and liis miracles finally 
 triumph. The Mermedonians are converted ; they now 
 hold him in honor and veneration. But Andrew, after 
 confirming them in the faith, and appointing a bishop 
 over them, departs to his own country. 
 
 Here ends the story as told in this old poem. The 
 diction is pure, the descriptions are labored ; the poet 
 evidently looks to his style. He even calls our atten- 
 tion to it ; or rather, he calls the attention of the two 
 whose good pleasure he especially consulted in writing 
 the poem : " Yet shall ye two, in little bits, further recite 
 a portion of my sayings." ^ The two here referred to are, 
 in the opinion of Jacob Grimm, Ini, King of Wessex, 
 and his Queen Ethelburga, of whom Aldhelm was the 
 friend and counselor.^ 
 
 HI. C YNE WULF. 
 
 Another poet of the same school, whose works have 
 come down to us, is Cynewulf. " He was," says 
 Grimm, " a contemporary, probably a pupil, of Aid- 
 helm's." ^ After the example of his master in his Latin 
 poems, he distributes the letters of his name throughout 
 his English poems in Runic characters. After his exam- 
 ple also, Cynewulf writes riddles. We know nothing of 
 Cynewulf except what little he reveals to us in his 
 
 ' " Hwgethre git sceolon 
 Lytlum sticcum leoth worda dael 
 Furthur reccan." (1. HSY.) 
 * Kemble here objects that the word git^ ye two, is not the dual form. 
 He translates the expression thus : " Yet will I still, in little fragments, 
 words of song relate." But Mr. T. Arnold, whose knowledge of Old 
 English is unquestionable, thus renders it : " Yet must ye two, in little 
 pieces, further con over a portion of my verses." (Man. Eng. Lit.^ p. 14.) 
 3 Cynewulf war wohleinzeitgenoss,vielleicht ein schiiler Aldhelms." 
 (^Andreas und Elcne^ Vorrede, 21.) 
 
CYNEWULF. 141 
 
 works. From that little we infer that in his youth he 
 had been wild : " I was stained with my deeds, bound in 
 my sins " ^ ; that misfortunes of one kind or other came 
 upon him: "Buffeted with sorrows, . . . with misery 
 compassed " ; that entering into himself he changed his 
 manner of life, and was called to the religious state : 
 "Till he laid knowledge on me through the glorious 
 state, for a comfort to me in my old age ; a signal grace 
 the powerful King measured out to me " ; that then it 
 was his mind was opened, and he learned the strength 
 of his intellect and exercised it in the congenial labor of 
 singing of Christ and His saints and His Holy Cross. 
 
 1. He sang the story of the finding of the Holy 
 Cross by St, Helena. This poem is called Elene.^ The 
 poet tells us that he had well digested the subject as 
 he found it in books before putting it in English song : 
 "iSTot once alone, but often, had I the tree of glory 
 in remembrance, ere I about the bright beam had re- 
 vealed the miracle, as in the courses of events I found 
 in books announced concerning that beacon of vic- 
 tory." ' The story is taken from a legendary Life of 
 Cyriacus.*' But the poet digresses frequently from 
 the original. Constantine is about fighting a battle. 
 The night previous to the engagement he has a dream 
 in which he sees the holy Rood. He consults his wis- 
 est men upon the meaning of his dream. A Christian 
 among them explains to him the mystery of the cross. 
 Forthwith he has the cross inscribed on a banner. 
 
 ^ Wene, Codex Vercellcnsis, canto xv. 
 
 ^ Text : 1. Grimm, in the same volume with the Andreas. 2. Kem- 
 ble, in his edition of the Codex Vercelleniiis. 3. Grein's AngelsdcMi- 
 schen Foesie, b. ii. Kent : Elenc, 1889. This text is based upon the 
 editions of Zupitza and WUlkcr. ^ Ibid., canto xv. 
 
 ^ See Acta Sanctorum, May 4th, and Kemble's Introduction to the 
 Yercelli Book. 
 
142 CANTERBURY. 
 
 It strikes terror in the enemy, though tenfold the num- 
 ber of Constantine's army. The victory leads to Con- 
 stantine's conversion, and he receives baptism at once. 
 This part of the poem is the most spirited. The de- 
 scription of the battle is such as pleased the English 
 taste. But it differs in no essential from the battle- 
 scenes in the older epic cycles. The same traditional 
 accompaniments are found : " The trumpeters blew loud 
 for the army ; the raven rejoiced in the work ; the eagle, 
 dewy-feathered, beheld the expedition ; the wolf in the 
 woods raised his song over the raging battle." ^ The 
 rest may be read in substance in Cedmon's Paraphrase. 
 Constantine then commands his mother to proceed to 
 Judea with a troop of warriors to find where is hidden 
 the true Cross. Here the poet gives more of the old 
 traditional descriptions. Men and arms and the sea are 
 all painted as we found them in JBeowulf. The one 
 new element in the picture — Helena — is thus touched 
 upon : " Never heard I before or since that on the 
 ocean-stream — upon the sea-street — a lady led a fairer 
 power." ^ She arrives in Judea, and, calling the people 
 together, she upbraids them for their cruelty to the 
 Messiah, and sends them awav to choose the wisest 
 among them to give her the information she requires. 
 At first they choose a thousand wise men ; then from 
 among these five hundred are selected. After much 
 obstinacy they give her Judas to answer her questions ; 
 but it takes seven days' fasting to break his spirit. So, 
 going with the Queen to Calvary, he prays in Hebrew 
 that the place of the true Cross be revealed, and forth 
 with smoke ascends from the spot. The Cross is recov- 
 ered ; afterward the nails, out of which is made a bit for 
 
 ' Elene, ii., 109-113. Dr. Grnctt has recently issued an elegant 
 translation of Elene (1889). ^ jHf^^ \\]^^ 240-242. 
 
CYNEWULF. 143 
 
 the horse of Constantine, which bit acts as a charm. 
 Such is the story of Elene. It is inferior to ^Andreas in 
 expression and plot. Still, few subjects were more popu- 
 lar in that day. We have listened to Cedmon's song, as 
 in all probability emended by Cynewulf, on the glories 
 of the holy Rood. Aldhelm identifies Christians with the 
 Cross. He calls them crucicolm, or venerators of the Cross. 
 2. Cynewulf sang the story of the martyi'dom of 
 St. Juliana.' A pagan youth named Heliseus loved 
 Juliana ; her father betrothed her to the man of wealth. 
 He knew not how she loathed the youth in her mind. 
 " To her was awe of God greater than all the treasures 
 that in that noble's possession dwelt." ^ She would 
 agree to be his spouse only on condition of his renoun- 
 cing his false gods. This angers him, and he stirs up 
 her father to wrath. "He promised not ornaments." 
 But as she remained steadfast, her father delivered her 
 over to be put to death, or made to renounce her faith. 
 She still triumphs over all obstacles. In prison the 
 devil appears to her as an angel of light ; but a voice 
 from heaven cautions her against him, and tells her to 
 compel him to reveal himself and his doings. There- 
 upon he tells how he tempts men, and who they are 
 whom he is most likely to succeed with. Such are those 
 who do not make the sign of the Cross, " Some whom 
 I found without God's token — heedless, unblest — these 
 I boldly through diverse deaths with my hands, by my 
 devices, slew." ^ He feels ashamed that he has been 
 conquered by Juliana : " After this sore revenge, I may 
 not laugh at this journey with my comrades, w^hen sad 
 and sorrowing I shall render them my tribute in that 
 
 ' Tej:t : Codex Exoniensis, edited by B. Thorpe, with translation. 
 ^ Exeter Book, i., p. 244. 
 3 Ibid., v., p. 271. 
 
144 CANTERBURY. 
 
 joyless home." ^ Here is the popular idea of the devil's 
 fear of ridicule, out of which so much has been made 
 in mediaeval literature. The MS. is in a mutilated con- 
 dition. It tells not the whole story. But after many 
 forms of suifering and torments from which Juliana is 
 preserved intact, she is finally beheaded. Then, like a 
 Teuton viking, Heliseus seeks relief from remorse and 
 disappointment in a seafaring life. This part of the 
 poem has the genuine Old English ring : 
 
 " This miscreant, perverse of mind, by ship — 
 With him his ruffian band — sought ocean's streams, 
 And o'er the water-flood a long while sped ; 
 But him and his fell band, on the swan-road, 
 Ere they to landhad steered, did death destroy; 
 Of life bereft were f our-and-thirty men — 
 Whelmed in the raging fury of the waves. . . . 
 In that dark home — that den profound — might not 
 Their money-gifts apportioned from their prince 
 Expect they ; nor in wine-hall, nor on beer-bench, 
 Might rings receive with gold embossed." ^ 
 
 Thus we find this people still unable to think out of 
 the old routine of thought and life they had lived for 
 centuries. The names are foreign, but the language 
 and the acting and the spirit are all English. After 
 giving his name in Runes the poet begs that every man 
 "who may recite this lay earnestly by my name fer- 
 vently bear it in mind." 
 
 3. Cynewulf sang of the Last Judg'tnent^ In the 
 allusion to himself, the poet tells his readers that he 
 dreads the doom, " for that I held not well what my 
 Saviour in books commanded me." He exhorts all to be 
 prepared for that day : " Each man should in his course 
 
 1 Exeter Book, p. 2'74. » Text : Exeter Book. 
 
 2 Ihid.. D. 283. 
 
 2 Ihid., p. 283. 
 
CYXEWULF. 145 
 
 of years well consider that the Lord of might at first, 
 through the angel's word, came to us benign. Now will 
 he be earnest when he again shall come stern and just." 
 Life he likens to a cruise upon a stormy sea : " It is 
 as though we on the liquid flood in vessels journey ; 
 through a wide sea on ocean-horses the flood- wave trav- 
 erse. That is a perilous stream of boundless waves on 
 which here we are tossed through this weak world — 
 windy seas over a deep path." ^ The poem begins by 
 treating of the destruction of the earth ; it then de- 
 scribes the judgment-scene ; the Cross is in the heaven a 
 consolation and a hope to the good, a terror to the wick- 
 ed ; then the final sentence is pronounced ; and here 
 the Saviour recounts His sufferings on the Holy Rood ; 
 finally the respective states of the good and the bad are 
 described.^ Here is the author's description of the con- 
 summation of all things by fire : 
 
 So the greedy guest shall earth pervade; the destroying 
 flame shall fill with fire's horror the high structures on the 
 earth's plain; the wide-spreading blast, the whole world to- 
 gether, hot, all-devouring. Down shall faU the city walls, in 
 pieces broken. The hills shall melt; shall melt" the high cliffs 
 
 ^ Exeter Book, p. 53. 
 
 ^ The poem of the Last Judgment occupies in the Exeter Book from 
 p. 49 to p. 103. It is usual to assign all the poems, from the beginning 
 to p. 103, to Cynewulf, reading them as one. Thus, Mr. T. Arnold, 
 after Ten Brink and others, speaks of them as " Crist^ a long poem on 
 the threefold coming of Christ." {Alanual of English Literature, 4th 
 ed., p. 14.) I consider the poem of the Last Judgment as belonging alone 
 to Cynewulf. The previous poems are more rhapsodical, and seem to 
 have been intended as Church hymns. The style of the Last Judgment 
 is of an older flavor. Mythological allusions are more frequent. The 
 imagery is more heathenish. The only artistic fault is the twofold 
 digression on the Rood. The poem, read in this hght, seems to me far 
 superior to the author's other known productions. It shows less con- 
 sciousness of effort. 
 
146 CANTERBURY. 
 
 that erst against ocean, firm against floods, the earth had shield- 
 ed, stern and steadfast, bulwarks against the waves, the encir- 
 cling water. Then shall the death-flame seize each creature, 
 beasts and fowls; along the earth shall pass the fire-swart flame, 
 a burning warrior ; as of old the rivers, the floods he drove, so 
 then in a fire-bath the ssa-fislies sliall be burned; cut off from 
 ocean each animal of the wave weary shall die; water shall 
 burn as wax. There shall be more wonders than anj may con- 
 ceive : how the stun,' and tlie storm, and the strong blast shall 
 break broad creation ; men shall wail, shall weep, moaning with 
 voices, abject, humble, sad in mind, with repentance afilicted.^ 
 
 Such is the picture the Last Day presented to the 
 imagination of this Old English poet. He speaks of 
 the flame as " a burning warrior " passing along the 
 earth. When Cedmon describes the destruction of 
 Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea, he represents the 
 guardian of the flood as with one stroke of an ancient 
 falchion striking the unsheltering wave, so " that in the 
 swoon of death the armies slept." Cynewulf lacks the 
 definiteness and the grasp, because he is the lesser poet. 
 But his subjects were popular ; he treated them in a 
 popular manner, and therefore was he prized in his own 
 day. His poems are valuable to-day, not as revealing 
 the individual personality of the poet, so much as the 
 common form of poetic thought prevalent in his time. 
 Men think in the forms of their ag^e and their ances- 
 tors. That the most prized is a judicious blending of 
 the old with the new. As an instance of this happy 
 blending, take the poet's description of the weeping of 
 the trees when the Redeemer hung upon the Holy 
 Rood : 
 
 Yea, the trees also proclaimed who had with branches 
 shaped them when mighty God on one of them ascended, where 
 
 * GesiuTiy a whirlwind or stun. ^ Exeter Book, p. 61. 
 
THE POEMS OF JUDITH AND GUTHLAC. I47 
 
 He endured pains for need of earth's inhabitants — a loathly 
 iieath in Iielp to mortals. Then was many a tree with blood- 
 tears suffused under the heavens ; red and thick their sap was 
 turned to gore, so that earth's inhabitants may not say through 
 wise knowledge how many creatures without feeling perceived 
 the Lord's sufferings. 
 
 Here is a remembrance of the myth of all nature weep- 
 ing over the death of Baldr. 
 
 lY. — The Poejis of Judith axd Guthlac, and a 
 Lovee's Message. 
 
 1. A poem belonging to the same period, and written 
 by a greater genius, is the poem of Judith^ But we 
 look in vain for the Bible narrative. The heroine is an 
 Englishwoman ; Holofernes is an English earl ; scenes 
 and incidents are all the scenes and incidents of English 
 life. And that English life is the ideal life of the Old 
 English fancy. It is a picture of war and preparation 
 for war, of f eastings that end in brutal drunkenness, of 
 bloody deed and horrid thought. The poem displays 
 considerable epic power. The descriptions are graphic, 
 and the incidents move with animation. It is invaluable 
 as a picture of a bygone life. Holofernes gives a feast. 
 " All his fierce chiefs, bold mail-clad warriors, went at the 
 feast to sit, eager to drink wine. There were often car- 
 ried the deep bowls behind the benches ; so likewise cups 
 and flagons full to those sitting at supper. . . . Then 
 was Holofernes rejoiced with wine ; in the halls of his 
 guests he laughed and yelled, he roared and dinned. 
 Afar off might the stern one be heard to storm and clam- 
 or. .. . So was the wicked one — the lord and his men — 
 drunk with wine, . . . till that they swimming lay ... as 
 
 * Text : 1. Grain, Judith ; 2. Thorpe's Analcda Anglo- Saxonica. 
 See also Turner's Hist. Anglo-Saxons, iii., ch. iii., p. 309. 
 
148 CANTERBURY. 
 
 they were death-slain. . . ." We confine the description 
 to the most salient points. The repetitions are mean- 
 ingless without the alliteration in which they are ex- 
 pressed, and then they become emphatic. Holofernes, 
 overcome with drink, in stupor lies on his bed. Then 
 Judith accomplishes the deed that is to deliver Israel. 
 The poet goes into the minutest details : 
 
 She took the heathen man fast by his hair; she drew him 
 by his limbs toward her disgracefully ; and the mischief -full, 
 odious man, at her pleasure laid, so as the wretch she might the 
 easiest well command. She with the twisted locks struck the 
 hateful enemy, meditating hate, with the red sword, till she 
 had half cut off his neck ; so that he lay in a swoon, drunk and 
 mortally wounded. He was not then dead — ^not entirely life- 
 less; earnest then she struck another thne the heathen hound — 
 she the woman illustrious in strength — till that his head rolled 
 forth upon the floor. Oofferless lay the foul one; downward 
 turned his spirit under the abyss, and there was plunged below 
 with sulphur fastened ; for ever afterward wounded by worms. 
 In torments bound — hard imprisoned — he burns in hell. Af- 
 ter his course he need not hope that he may escape from that 
 mansion of worms, with darkness overwhelmed; but there he 
 shall remain ever and ever — without end — henceforth void of 
 the joys of hope, in that cavern home. 
 
 Judith returns to the city with the head of this wick- 
 ed one. She is met by the people, and orders them to 
 prepare for battle: " Now, I beseech every man of these 
 citizens, these shield- warriors, that ye immediately haste 
 you to fight. When God, the source of all, the honor- 
 fast king, from the east sends a ray of light, bring forth 
 your banners; with shields for your breasts and mails 
 for your hams, go ye among the robbers ; let their lead- 
 ers fall, the devoted chiefs, by the ruddy sword." We 
 need not give the description of battle. It is the stere- 
 otyped one. We have the usual accompaniments — the 
 
THE POEMS OF JUDITH AND GUTHLAC. I49 
 
 wolf, the raven, the kite, the eagle, the song of the sword, 
 the stern-mindedness, and the fierce hate. " Stern-mind- 
 ed, they advanced with fierce spirits; they pressed on un- 
 softly, with ancient hate, against the mead- weary foe.'' 
 The poem, as we now have it, is a mere fragment. But 
 it is characteristic of the English mind, and reveals not 
 a few glimpses of genius. 
 
 2. Another, and more agreeable though less power- 
 ful poem, is that on St. Guthlac. It reveals a distinct 
 order of thought. With the poet, the spiritual and 
 the physical worlds are intimately united. Earth and 
 heaven and hell all touch one another. Angels and de- 
 mons quarrel over human souls. He who lives with his 
 hand ever knocking at heaven's door, and hell beneath 
 his feet, and saints and spirits around him, takes a far 
 diiferent view of life from him who looks upon it as 
 a state in which to take all the joys and pleasures with- 
 in his reach. Such was Guthlac. The saving of his 
 soul was the one object for which he lived. And, that 
 it shall not be damned through his intercourse with men, 
 he abandons all and retires to a lone spot, there to lead 
 a hermit-life. This happens to be a resting-place for 
 demons. No welcome guest is the holy man among 
 them. They threaten him; they torment him; they 
 promise him all manner of goods if he only leaves them 
 this solitary spot. But all to no purpose. Guthlac is 
 steadfast. The fiends bear him hither and thither. St. 
 Bartholomew comes to his assistance and compels them 
 to bear him back to the hill whence they took him. And 
 then we are told: " The feathered tribe made known the 
 holy man's return; oft had he held them food, when 
 hungry they flew round his hand. . . . Serene was the 
 glorious plain and his new dwelling; sweet the birds' 
 song, the earth flowery; cuckoos • announced the year." 
 
150 CANTERBURY. 
 
 This blending of description of nature witli the narra- 
 tive is a new feature in Old English poetry. We do 
 not find it in any of the earlier productions. Nowhere 
 do we read that earth or sea welcomed the hero or 
 was glad at his coming. It is Christianity that sheds 
 that gentle light upon nature, and brings it into sympa- 
 thy with human feelings. However, if the poem has 
 this modern excellency, it also, and in excess, possesses 
 the modern defect of moralizing. Again, disease strikes 
 the saint. His disciple becomes alarmed: " Then was 
 wail and sighing to the youth, his spirit sad, his soul 
 grieving, when he heard that the holy man was on de- 
 parture bent." Guthlac grows worse: "Death drew 
 nigh, stepped with iron strides, strong and fierce sought 
 the soul-house„" Finally, on the last day, the saint gives 
 this message to his disciple. It is a beautiful thought, 
 that only Christianity could have created; and it is 
 touching as it is beautiful: " Go tell my sister, the most 
 beloved, my departure on a long way to the fair joy, to 
 an eternal dwelling; and eke make known to her that at 
 all times in this life I denied myself her presence, in 
 order that we may again see each other sinless before 
 the face of the Eternal Judge, where our love shall con- 
 tinue faithful, and we may ever enjoy our wishes in 
 the bright city." This is the language of a strong 
 mind, holding his soul in his hands, and resolved that 
 not even a sisterly affection shall go between him and 
 his God. 
 
 3. We have one other instance in Old English poetry 
 in which man sends a message to woman. It is not such 
 a heavenly message as that of St. Guthlac. It may be 
 older than his, but its Runic character places it no later 
 than the present period. We have but a fragment of 
 the poem to which it belongs. We will call it The 
 
THE POEMS OF JUDITH AND GUTHLAC. 151 
 
 Lover'' s Message.^ It is the story of one driven from 
 his home by feuds : " Him feuds drove away from the 
 noble people." He builds up for himself another home 
 in foreign lands. And he remembers her in whom his 
 affections are centered. He sends a messenger to her with 
 a Runic token, asking her to come and live with him. 
 The fragment represents the messenger pressing his 
 friend's suit. He describes his wealth ; he tells her 
 that she alone is lacking to complete his happiness ; 
 he assures her that his friend is prepared to fulfill the 
 promises which they in early days oft spake : " Yes, 
 he who inscribed this beam bade me beseech thee 
 that thou, richly - adorned one, shouldst bethink thee 
 in thy mind's recess the promises which ye two in early 
 days oft spake, when one land ye did inhabit, and 
 w^hile ye might in the mead-burghs foster friendship. 
 . . . He now bids thee gladly learn to brave the water, 
 when on the mountain's brow thou hast heard the 
 cuckoo's mournful song in the grove." The tradi- 
 tion of calling the cuckoo's lay a sad one is old. "We 
 are unable to gather from the poem w^hether the wo- 
 man's affection w^as as steadfast as that of the man. 
 Be this as it may, the poem is unique in the history 
 of Old English literature. It is the only fragment 
 giving us the story of man's love for woman. It be- 
 trays an absence of passion and chivalry. There is no 
 sentiment — no impulse leading the lover to risk his life 
 for this object of his affections ; while he expects her 
 to abandon herself to the mercy of the sea for his sake. 
 All this is in accordance wdth what we have seen to be 
 the Old English idea of marriage. 
 
 ^ It is found on page 473 of the Exeter Book. 
 
CHAPTER YI. 
 
 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 I. — Benedict Biscop. 
 
 With Theodore was Benedict Biscop. He was a 
 zealous promoter of the new learniDg and the new 
 creed. He made no less than five journeys to Rome. 
 Each journey he brought back with him some boon or 
 other to his countrymen. Kow it was some valuable 
 books ; again some skilled workingmen and artificers ; 
 at another time it was beautiful paintings. At first he 
 taught the school at Canterbury, but resigned in favor 
 of Adrian. He then built the monasteries of Wear- 
 mouth and Jarrow. He initiated the English into 
 many improved ways. He inaugurated a better style 
 of architecture. Instead of the thatched roof, he made 
 use of lead. He brought over from France masons and 
 glass-makers, whose skill was the admiration of the less 
 cultivated English. And with the great comfort of 
 light and protection from the weather, introduced by 
 the use of glass, he undertook to educate their aesthetic 
 sense. They who formerly had no other use for color 
 than to paint their shields now had opportunity, through 
 the considerate kindness of Benedict, of looking upon 
 paintings of sacred subjects. And though the primary 
 object was, as we are told, that all, however ignorant, 
 might contemplate as through a veil the countenance of 
 
BEDA. 153 
 
 Christ and his saints, and so be moved to piety, still those 
 paintings improved the tastes of the people. He even 
 pleased the taste of King Aldfred by bringing him two 
 cloaks of silk, for which in return he received three 
 hundred and sixty acres of land. Nor did Benedict 
 stop here. He also brought from Rome John the Chant- 
 er, to teach the Gregorian music. The ceremonies of 
 religion grew more attractive, and the people flocked in 
 crowds to listen to the new music, and be moved by its 
 solemn harmony. The monks of Wearmouth grew fa- 
 mous for their good singing ; those from other monas- 
 teries flocked thither to be instructed by this celebrated 
 teacher. "The said John," says Beda, "not only taught 
 the brothers of that monastery, but such as had skill in 
 singing resorted from almost all the monasteries in the 
 same province to hear him, and many invited him to 
 teach in other places." ^ Thus it was that while Theo- 
 dore was ministering to men's souls and Adrian to their 
 intellects, Benedict Biscop was cultivating their tastes ; 
 but in the hands of all three, art and philosophy and 
 letters and doctrine were the handmaids of piety and 
 religion. Benedict died in the monastery of Wear- 
 mouth. On his death-bed his last charge was to guard 
 with care the treasures of the noble and rich library he 
 had brought from Rome.^ And one was there who 
 placed those treasures out at usurious interest, and with 
 them gained the wherewith to enrich his own and suc- 
 ceeding ages. That one is he who has recorded the 
 facts here related — the Venerable Beda. 
 
 n.— Beda. 
 
 Beda (672-735) was born on the property of the 
 Wearmouth Monastery. At the age of seven, he was 
 1 Eccl Hist, b. iv., ch. 18. ^ Ibid. 
 
154 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 placed in cliarge of Benedict Biscop. Under this good 
 man's guidance he grew up, knowing little of the world, 
 and learning less of its rudeness, its evil ways, and bad 
 examples. And as he advanced in years, and his intel- 
 lect matured, he became the light and model of his com- 
 munity. From Wearmouth he was transferred to Jar- 
 roAV, where he passed the remainder of his life. In his 
 own beautifully simple style he tells us the story of that 
 life : "And spending all the remaining time of my life 
 in that monastery, I wholly applied myself to the study 
 of Scripture, and amid the observance of regular disci- 
 pline, and the daily care of singing in the church, I 
 always took delight in learning, teaching, and writing." 
 This is the simple summary of his life. It speaks of a 
 life of retirement and prayer ; it reveals a monk seldom 
 leaving his monastery for any length of time except to 
 make an occasional excursion in search of materials for 
 his numerous works. And yet there was no subject 
 beneath his notice or beyond his grasp. In his twenty- 
 seventh year, and while still a deacon, he is already so 
 famous that Pope Sergius calls him to Rome.^ Such 
 honors disturb not the even tenor of his life. He con- 
 tinues his labors in the schoolroom with all the zeal of 
 an apostle. He numbers no less than six hundred pu- 
 pils who gather round him to receive some share of his 
 great learning. He composes text-books for their use 
 on mathematics, on physics, on astronomy, on grammar, 
 on rhetoric, on dialectics, on meteorology, on music and 
 medicine ; he writes commentaries on the sacred Scrip- 
 tures after the manner of Gregory the Great, which are 
 still quoted with approval ; he translates portions of the 
 Bible into his mother-tongue ; he composes pious hymns 
 for the people to sing ; he writes the lives of many of 
 ' William of Malraesbury. 
 
BEDA. 155 
 
 the great and good men in the English Church who 
 went before him ; he records the struggles and trials 
 and triumphs of Christianity among his people, and 
 their advance in the road of civilization. He is the 
 living encyclopaedia of his age. His knowledge em- 
 braces all that time has left of Greek and Roman civili- 
 zations. He stands out the greatest intellect in the whole 
 range of the Old English period. The guiding prin- 
 ciple of his life is a sincere love for truth in all shapes 
 and under all aspects. He is no dreamer. He lives 
 and works for the present, and therefore it is that his 
 name has passed into the future. Nor is his eye always 
 on books. He casts an occasional glance upon affairs 
 of church and state. He exhorts Ecgberht, Archbishop 
 of York, in his duties ; he calls his attention to the spir- 
 itual wants of the faithful living in remote districts ; 
 he denounces those monks who seem to have no other 
 intention of entering a monastery than to escape mili- 
 tary service ; he regards the wants of the kingdom with 
 all the knowingness of a veteran statesman, and becomes 
 indignant over those who under pretense of piety would 
 defraud Caesar out of his own.^ 
 
 His love for truth will not allow him to rest even 
 in sickness. Not long before his death, and when he 
 should have had complete repose, we find him pre- 
 paring text-books for his dear pupils : " I will not have 
 my pupils," said he, " read a falsehood, nor labor therein 
 without profit." ^ He is only too happy that he is able 
 to work. What he can do for himself, he lets not others 
 do for him. " I am my own secretary," he TVTites ; " I 
 make my own notes ; I am my own librarian." His truth- 
 loving spirit penetrates all the sciences and extracts 
 
 ^ Epist, ii., " Ad Ecgberctum Antistitem," Opera, t. v., p. 658, ed. 
 Migne. ^ Letter of Cuthberht. 
 
156 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 from them whatever it found good and useful. His 
 scientific knowledsje is the most accurate his times afford. 
 Still, as might be expected, some of his explanations 
 are childlike ; others erroneous ; nor can he rid himself 
 altogether of the superstitions of the day. He believes 
 the comet to portend change of kingdoms, or pestilence, 
 or war, or tempest, or drought.^ On the other hand, 
 when he undertakes to explain the theory of the tides, 
 he rises far above the crude notions of his times, and 
 almost anticipates Newton.^ 
 
 But the masterpiece of Beda is his Ecclesiastical 
 History of the English Nation. It was for him a 
 labor of love, although it took some persuasion to pre- 
 vail upon him to begin it. His friends Albinus and 
 Acca, the Bishop of Hexham, encouraged him. But 
 oace he undertook the task, he spared no pains. He 
 was indefatigable in his researches. Northelm, a learned 
 priest, brings him from Rome the important correspon- 
 dence between Augustin and Pope Gregory the Great. 
 He gathers the traditions of the pious and learned mis- 
 sionaries who first came among the English people, and 
 sifts them carefully. He converses with eye-witness- 
 es of events and weighs their statements. He every- 
 where brings to bear upon his narrative the great good 
 sense that characterizes him. " Thus much of the Ec- 
 clesiastical History of Britain," says he, "and more 
 especially of the English nation, as far as I could learn 
 either from the writings of the ancients, or the tradi- 
 tions of our ancestors, or of my own knowledge, has, 
 with the help of God, been digested by me, Beda, the 
 servant of God and priest of the Monastery of the 
 Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, which is at Wear- 
 mouth and Jarrow." ^ He speaks according to his con- 
 
 ' De Nat. Rerum. ^ Ihid. ^ Ecclesiastical History^ at the end. 
 
BEDA. 157 
 
 viction. The marvelous and the legendary that he re- 
 cords were as searchingly probed as circumstances per- 
 mitted, and he only gave that which he regarded as the 
 most probable. His was a simple faith that no amount 
 of learning could cloud, and that saw in the material as 
 well as in the spiritual world the interj)osition of Divine 
 Providence. And not only does he write with deep ear- 
 nestness ; his is the pen of an artist as well. His soul 
 glows with the poet's enthusiasm over the description of 
 a favorite theme, and the narrative of a good deed or a 
 good life. Sometimes it bursts forth into a hymn of 
 praise, as Avhen, after speaking of the miraculous pres- 
 ervation of the body of Queen Etheldrida, he sings : 
 
 " Triumphing joj attends the peaceful soul, 
 When heat, nor rain, nor wishes mean control. 
 Thus Etheldrida, pure from sensual crime, 
 Bright shining star! arose to bless our time." * 
 
 Such was the historian whose statements within his per- 
 sonal knowledge have never been questioned. We can 
 not imagine him distorting a fact for his own private 
 purposes, or coloring a narrative in order to bear out a 
 preconceived notion. To question his sincerity were to 
 prove one's self ignorant of the man. 
 
 The story of his death is well known. It has been 
 beautifully told by his disciple Cuthberht. He who so 
 lovingly lingered over the death of England's first great 
 Christian poet, found one to give a touching account of 
 his own. And, as we have described the one, let us 
 watch the departure of iEngland's ripest scholar and 
 greatest historian. The story is too beautiful and too 
 instructive not to repeat. He had been ailing about two 
 months. Still he worked hard, teaching his numerous 
 disciples and composing books for them. Withal he re- 
 ■ * Translation in Smith's Bede, 
 
158 JAKROW AND YORK. 
 
 tained his cheerful disposition. But daily he grew worse, 
 and his disciples, with heavy heart, saw his last hour 
 approach. Death comes and still finds him at work. 
 He is translating the Gospel of St. John into his mother- 
 speech. The morning of his last day dawns. " There is 
 still another chapter wanting, and it is hard for thee to 
 question thyself any longer," said an eager pupil when 
 he saw his master's extreme weakness. " It is easily 
 done," said the holy man. " Take thy pen and write 
 quickly." And painfully he dictated the words, his 
 voice growing weaker and weaker. He rests a moment. 
 " Dear master, there is yet one sentence unwritten," said 
 the pupil. " Write it quickly," said Beda, for he felt 
 his strength ebbing fast. " It is finished now," said the 
 pupil. " Yon say truly," replied the dying man, " it is 
 finished. Hold my head in your hands, for I desire to 
 sit facing the holy place in which I was wont to pray." 
 After praying for some time, his poet nature burst forth 
 in a song in his own tongue on the uncertain lot of a 
 departed soul. *' Being learned in our poetry," says 
 Cuthberht, " he said some things also in our speech, for 
 he said, putting the same in English " : 
 
 Fore the neidfaersB Before the necessary journey 
 
 nenig uuiurtliit no one is 
 
 thonc-snotturra wiser of thought 
 
 than him tharf sie, than he hath need, 
 
 to yrabhycgannse to consider 
 
 ser his hiniongse, before his departure, 
 
 huat his gastae what for his spirit 
 
 godaes seththe yflaes of good or evil 
 
 aefter deoth-daege after the death-day 
 
 doemid uuieorthse. shall be doomed.^ 
 
 * This version of Beda's sole surviving words in his mother-speech, 
 is taken by J, M. Kemble from the MS. at St. Gall. He gives it with 
 
BEDA. 159 
 
 Finally he rendered his pure soul into the hands of 
 his Creator, while in the act of singing the praises of 
 the Holy Trinity. So passed away the glory of his day. 
 
 We are now dealing with the golden age of Old 
 English scholarship. Ecgberht was making of York a 
 worthy rival of Wearmouth and Yarrow and Canter- 
 bury, ^orthumbria was becoming classic ground. To 
 this period especially apply the words of Professor Mau- 
 rice : " Schools seem to rise as by enchantment ; all 
 classes down to the poorest (Beda himself is the obvious 
 example) are admitted to them ; the studies, beginning 
 from theology, embrace logic, rhetoric, music, astrono- 
 my." ^ We have seen how Beda completes this system 
 by adding to it physics, medicine, meteorology, and 
 other branches. And not only were men versed in 
 learning; we find women versed as well. We have seen 
 that Aldhelm writes his treatise in praise of virginity in 
 Latin, for a community of nuns. Boniface corresponds 
 with English ladies in Latin. Leobgitha asks him con- 
 cerning some verses she composed on the Creator — 
 "according to the discipline of poetic tradition" — 
 which discipline she learned from the teacher of Ead- 
 burga.^ In fact, it would seem that the clergy were 
 neglecting their mother-speech in their devotedness to 
 the language of the Church. In the Council of Cliff, 
 held in 747, twelve years after the death of Beda, and 
 presided over by St. Cuthberht, King Ethelbald being 
 present, it was decreed that every priest should know 
 how to explain in his mother-tongue the creed, the 
 
 translation in Archceoloffia, vol. xxviii. The student of Old English 
 will notice the peculiarities of the Northumbrian dialect, such as ce for 
 e, and even for o in the word ccihthe. The fragment is a precious relic. 
 
 ' Philosoplv/ in the First Six Centuries. 
 
 2 Epist. 21, Leobgitha Bonifacio, a. d. 725. 
 
160 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 Lord's prayer, the words used in celebrating the holy 
 mysteries, administering baptism, and the other offices 
 of the Church ; and it was imposed upon those who 
 knew not how to interpret and explain in their own 
 tongue, to learn.' 
 
 III. — Alcwin. 
 
 From Jarrow we pass to York. Ecgberht is the 
 brother of the King of Northumbria. He is also Arch- 
 bishop of York. But his greatest honoris to have been 
 a pupil of Beda's. He brings to York the traditions of 
 Jarrow. His admiration for his great master leads him 
 to imitate his manner of teaching. His daily life has 
 been handed down to us. It differs from ours, and for 
 that reason is all the more instructive : " He rose at 
 daybreak, and, when he was not prevented by more 
 important occupations, sitting on his couch, taught his 
 pupils successively till noon. He then retired to his 
 chapel and celebrated mass.^ At the time of dinner, 
 he repaired to the common hall, where he ate sparingly, 
 though he was careful that the meat should be of the 
 best kind. During dinner a book of instruction was 
 always read. Till the evening he amused himself with 
 hearing his scholars discuss literary subjects. Then he 
 repeated with them the service of complin, called them 
 to him, and, as they successively knelt before him, gave 
 them his benediction. They afterward retired to rest." ^ 
 Among the pupils so taught was Alcwin. He extends 
 the influence of Jarrow and York to the Continent. 
 
 ^ " Interpretari atque exponere posse propria lingua, qui nesciant, 
 discaut." {Cone. Cloveshoviejise, Wilkins, vol. i., p. 95.) 
 
 ^ " Sanctificabat eos, offerens corpus Christi et sanguinem pro om- 
 nibus." ( F^te ^/c, p. 149.) . 
 
 ^ Lingard, Anglo-Saxon Antiquities, p. 207. These details Alcwin 
 used to relate to his friends. 
 
ALCWIX. 161 
 
 Alcwin (735-804), from his youth, was devoted to 
 learning both sacred and profane. Charlemagne pre- 
 vailed upon him to reside at his court, there to estab- 
 lish schools and assist him in the educational reform 
 he was then digesting for his subjects. Alcwin entered 
 upon his new duties with energy. He opened a school 
 in the palace, which was attended by the Emperor and 
 the principal persons of his household. He revived 
 schools throughout the kingdom. He took all possible 
 means to encourage study. He revised, corrected, and 
 restored ancient manuscripts. His labors extended even 
 to the plays of Terence, which he copied.^ Thus he en- 
 couraged the classics, but he made them subservient to 
 sacred studies. He exhorted his disciples to study " for 
 God, for purity of soul, for the knowing of truth, even 
 for one's self ; but not for mere human praise^ or world- 
 ly honors, or even the false pleasures of riches." ^ The 
 whole of France wakened to a new life under his in- 
 fluence. Men threw off the intellectual sloth in which 
 they had been living, and devoted themselves with ar- 
 dor to learning. " Under Alcwin's direction," says a 
 cautious writer, " a scheme of education was drawn up 
 which became the model for the other great schools 
 established at Tours, Fontenelle, Lyons, Osnaburg, and 
 Metz — institutions which ably sustained the tradition 
 of education on the Continent, until superseded by the 
 new methods and the new learning which belong to the 
 commencement of the University era.^ He had some 
 of his pupils sent to York to take copies of the literary 
 treasures there kept. And they brought with them, 
 
 ^ Guizot, Histoire de la France^ t. ii., p. 187. 
 '■^ Apud Lingard, p. 192. 
 
 ^ J. B. Mullinger, The University of Cambridge from the Earliest 
 Times to the Royal Injunctions of 1535, p. 13. 
 
162 JARROW AXD YORK. 
 
 not only the works, but also the beautiful style of 
 illuminating practiced at this time in England. This 
 style for centuries afterward characterized a special 
 school of illuminators on the Continent.' 
 
 Ale win was by nature an ascetic ; but he was also 
 a courtier, a scholar, and an educator.'' He was above 
 all a devoted child of the Church. He fouscht the 
 errors of the day with vigor ; he wrote commentaries 
 on the sacred Scriptures ; he prepared a moral treatise 
 on vice and virtue. His finger may be traced in the 
 Capitularies of Charlemagne. He writes to that mon- 
 arch in behalf of the barbarians he has brought under 
 subjection, showing him the easiest and most efiiective 
 means of converting them to Catholicity. As a writer, 
 Alcwin was too steeped in classical learning not to com- 
 pose with a certain correctness ; but his style is not ad- 
 mired for its ease and grace, though, like Erasmus — 
 like all mediaeval and modern polished Latinists using 
 a language out of their thinking — he often lays more 
 stress upon manner than upon matter. He was not an 
 original thinker. His merit consists in knowing how 
 to make the most of the writings at his command. In 
 his philosophical works he drew largely from St. Au- 
 gustine.' In his educational treatises he made use of 
 
 ^ "It has been said that the manuscripts which Alcwin procured 
 from Enj2;land were the means of forming a special school of transcrib- 
 ers and illuminators at Aix-la-Chapelle, which for many generations 
 preserved the traditionary style of the Anglo-Saxon ar ists." (Ed- 
 wards, Memoirs of Libraries.) 
 
 2 " C'est un moine, un diacre, la lumiere de I'Eglise contempo- 
 raine ; raais c'est en meme temps un erudit, un lettre classique." 
 (Guizot, Civilisation en France, lect, xxii., p. 208.) 
 
 ^ " Alcwin had in his hands some glosses of Boethius, the works of 
 the condensers Cassiodorus, Isidore of Seville, and the poetic manual 
 of Martianus Capella. Novv, there is nothing in his Dialectics which 
 
POPULAR PHILOSOPHY. 103 
 
 the Compendiums of Beda. But he was painstaking 
 and methodical ; and these are essential qualities for a 
 good educator. It is as an educator that he has most in- 
 terest for us. He brought his methods from England, 
 and these methods continued to be used in France and 
 Germany long after his death. There has been preserved 
 to us a dialogue between Alcwin and Pepin. No doubt 
 it is a specimen of the literary conversations that were 
 of daily occurrence in the palace school. And these in 
 their turn were modeled after those in which Alcwin 
 himself had been exercised by Archbishop Ecgberht 
 The dialogue is simple, but it belongs to a simple age. 
 The comforts of a court — even of the court of Charle- 
 magne — were inferior to those enjoyed at present by a 
 family merely above want. In the Capitularies of 
 Charlemagne are prescriptions relative to the chickens 
 of his barnyard, and the sale of eggs and vegetables.^ 
 This is patriarchal primitiveness. 
 
 ly. — Popular Philosophy. 
 
 1. And so in the efforts to solve the mysteries of 
 nature, of life and death, of thought and affection, we 
 must look for simple questions and silly answers. Still, 
 these questions of Alcwin are invaluable as giving us the 
 level of the popular intelligence on the ever-recurring 
 problems that suggest themselves to the human mind, 
 
 is not found in these works and in the treatise on the Ten Categories : 
 he only abridged abridgments." (Haureau, Pkilosophie Scholastiquc, 
 i., p. 103.) Haureau shows rare acuteness in tracing ideas to their 
 source ; but in justice to Alcwin let us add that these abridgments 
 embodied the whole literary tradition of the past. Possessing them 
 was possessing nearly all the available knowledge of the eighth cen- 
 tury. 
 
 2 Cantu, Histoire Universelle, t. vii., p. 372. 
 8 
 
164 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 and to whicli it must have an answer, be it right or 
 wrong. Pepin asks Alcwin, and is answered in the fol- 
 lowing manner : 
 
 " "What is writing? " "The guardian of History." 
 " What is speech ? " " The interpreter of the soul." 
 " What is it that gives birth to speech? " " The tongue." 
 " What is the tongue ? " " The whip of the air." 
 " What is the air ? " " The preserver of life." 
 " What is Hfe ? " ' A joy for the happy, a pain for the mis- 
 erable, the expectation of death." 
 
 *' What is death ? " " An inevitable event, an uncertain 
 voyage, a subject of tears for the living, tlie confirmation of 
 testaments, the robber of men. . . ." 
 
 " What is heaven ? " "A moving sphere, an immense vault." 
 " What is light ? " " The torch of all things." 
 " What is the day ? " "A caU to labor." 
 "What is the sun?" "The splendor of the universe, the 
 beauty of the firmament, the grace of nature, the glory of the 
 day, the distributor of the hours. . . ." 
 
 " What is friendship ? " " The similarity of souls. . . ." 
 "As you are a youth of good disposition, and endowed with 
 natural capacity, I wiU put to you several other unusual ques- 
 tions: endeavor to solve tliem." 
 
 " I will do my best ; if I make mistakes, you must correct 
 them." 
 
 "I shall do as you desire. Some one who is unknown to 
 me has conversed with ine, having no tongue and no voice ; he 
 was not before, he will not be hereafter, and I neither heard 
 nor knew him. What means this? " 
 
 " Perhaps a dream moved you, master? " 
 " Exactly so, my son. Still another one. I have seen the 
 dead engender the living, and the dead consumed by the breath 
 of the living." 
 
 " Fire was born from the rubbing of branches, and it con- 
 sumed the branches." ^ 
 
 ' Guizot, Hisioire de la Civilisation en France^ t. ii., p. 191. 
 
POPULAR PHILOSOPHY. 165 
 
 2. Such was the kind of information that satisfied 
 Ale win and pleased Pepin. Nor was it so with these 
 alone. It was that on which the common intelligence 
 lived in England as well as in France and Italy. Na- 
 tions have their periods of intellectual childhood as 
 well as individuals. They are as inquisitive as chil- 
 dren, and like children rest content with apparent solu- 
 tions. They delight in riddles and enigmas. Take the 
 catechism which Alcwin had prej^ared for the priest Sig- 
 wulf, and which Alfric turned into the language of the 
 people.* The answers seldom rise above the literalness 
 of the Scriptural texts. Here are specimens : " 8. * Why 
 did the Creator curse the earth on Adam's guilt; and 
 not the water ? ' * Because God's command to man con- 
 cerned the earth's fruits, not the water's ; and because 
 God remembered that by means of water he would de- 
 stroy the sin that man drew upon himself through the 
 earth's fruit.' " Alcwin here alludes to the water of 
 baptism, and in writing that answer he evidently forgot 
 the reasons for blessing the water so used. Here is an- 
 other : " 30. * Why was the tree by which Adam fell 
 called lignum scientioe boni et mali, that is in English, 
 tree of the knowledge of good and evil ? ' * It was not 
 because the tree was intelligent in its kind, nor that 
 it knew good and evil ; but in order that man might 
 know from the tree that was forbidden him how much 
 good is in obedience and how much evil in disobedi- 
 ence.'" The reader will remember Cedmon's descrip- 
 tion of the two trees, one of good and one of evil. Men 
 have been tAvo centuries learning Christianity since then. 
 Again, here are some questions on the rainbow : "53. 
 
 * Why was the rainbow set as a pledge to mankind ? ' 
 
 * God set the rainbow as a pledge and safety to man, 
 
 ^ Alfric's version of Alcuini interrogationes Sigeuulfi in Genema, 
 (Anglia^ vii., 1.) 
 
166 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 for a promise that He never after would coyer tlie earth 
 with a flood ; for He knew if He did not, that men 
 through fear would anticipate a similar flood every time 
 they saw such rains.' " This answer gives the sub- 
 stance of the Scripture text. " 54. * Why is that token 
 seen in the clouds of heaven ? ' ' That all men may see 
 it, and that we be reminded in every trouble to turn 
 our thoughts to God who dwelleth in heaven.' 55. * Why 
 is the token of various colors ? ' * On the token is the 
 hue of water and of fire ; that token that is the rainbow 
 comes of the sunbeam and of wet clouds in order that 
 the earth may be safe : it has the water's color, that wa- 
 ter may not drown us all and that we may conquer it ; 
 it has the fire's color, that all this world may be kindled 
 with fire on the great day.' " ^ So the questions run. 
 It is noteworthy that the English catechisms all refer to 
 Bible and religious subjects. The craving of the Eng- 
 lish mind in that direction seems insatiable. Not satis- 
 fied with the sparks itself strikes out, it adopts the views 
 of other peoples on the same or like subjects. And so 
 we find all other questionings thrown in the shade by 
 the popular series called Salomon and Saturn. 
 
 3. This work comes we know not whence. It is a 
 strange conglomeration of all lores. We open the leaves 
 and hit upon this passage : " Lo ! I have learned that in 
 days of yore men wise of mood — princes of the earth — 
 contended, struggled about their wisdom. Ill doth he 
 that lieth or the truth rejecteth." "" Meeting these words 
 we are prepared to assign it a Northern origin. We 
 find a continuation of the Scandinavian sagas wherein 
 men staked their lives on the answering of a question 
 
 ^ MSS. Colt., Jul. E. vii., fol. 228. 
 
 2 Salomon and Saturn, edited by J. M. Kemble for the ^Ifric So- 
 ciety, part i., p. 154. 
 
POPULAR PEILOSOPHY. 1^7 
 
 or the solving of a riddle. The groundwork is of a 
 piece with the old heathen sagas. But we go back a 
 few pages, and wonder if we are not reading a homily 
 from one of the Early Fathers. Hear how the word of 
 God is spoken of : " Golden is the word of God, and 
 stoned with gems ; it hath silver leaves ; ... it is wis- 
 dom of the breast and honey of the soul ; it is milk of 
 the mind, most blessed of glories." And this Christian 
 element in it is entirely foreign to the English mind. 
 It bears the impress of an Eastern cast of thought. 
 Such is the peculiar treatment of the Pater-noster. Every 
 letter and every word in it has each its peculiar virtue. 
 IN'one is more powerful than the Pater-noster. " Saturn 
 spake : But who may easiest of all creatures the holy 
 door of heaven's kingdom bright unclose in succession ? 
 Salomon quoth : The palm-twigged Pater-noster openeth 
 the heavens, blesseth the holy, maketh mild the Lord, 
 puUeth down murder, quencheth the devil's fire, kin- 
 dleth the Lord's : thus mayst thou . . . with the bright 
 prayer heat the blood of the devil's wizard, so that in 
 him the drops shall rise hurried with blood in the 
 thoughts of his breast, more full of terror than the brazen 
 caldron, when it for twelve generations of men most 
 greedily bubbleth." * And with the Christian, there is 
 also a pagan Orientalism. Such is the doctrine that fire 
 is the origin of all things : " For there is no kind of 
 thing that lives, nor bird, nor fish, nor stone of the 
 earth, nor water's wave, nor twig of wood, nor mount, 
 nor moor, nor even this earth, but what it cometh forth 
 from a kind of fire." " We have seen how the cross was 
 venerated by the English people. From an early day, 
 
 * Salomon and Saturn, p. 145. 
 
 '^ Ibid., p. 170. This doctrine was also taught by Heraclitus. And 
 Hooker {EccL Polity, b. i., § ii.) attributes it to the Stoics. But it 
 originated, perhaps, in Chaldea. 
 
168 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 men signed themselves with the saving sign. Tertul- 
 lian tells us the practice was common among the primi- 
 tive Christians. In Salomon and Saturn, the man's 
 body not so signed was in the power of the devil : " And 
 when the devil is very weary he seeketh the cattle of 
 some sinful man, or an unclean tree ; or if he meeteth 
 the mouth and body of a man that hath not been blessed, 
 then goeth he into the bowels of a man who has so for- 
 gotten, and through his skin, and through his flesh, de- 
 parteth into the earth, and from these findeth his way 
 into hell's desert." ^ And a question that seemed to have 
 special interest for English curiosity was that asking 
 the various ingredients of which Adam's body was com- 
 posed by his Creator. This, also, is solved in a prose 
 version of this mysterious book : " ' Tell me the substance 
 of which Adam, the first man, was made.' ' I tell thee 
 of eight pounds by weight.' * Tell me what they are 
 called.' ' I tell thee the first was a pound of earth, of 
 which his flesh was made ; the second was a pound of 
 fire, whence his blood came red and hot ; the third was 
 a pound of wind, and thence his breathing was given 
 to him ; the fourth was a pound of the welkin, thence 
 was his unsteadiness of mood given him ; the fifth was 
 a pound of grace — gyfepund — whence was given him 
 his growth ; the sixth was a pound of blossoms, whence 
 was given him the variety of his eyes ; the seventh was 
 a pound of dew, whence he got his sweat ; the eighth 
 was a pound of salt, and thence were his tears salt."' 
 This was taught and implicitly believed for centuries.^ 
 
 ' Salomon and Saturn^ p. 149. ^ Ibid., p. 149. 
 
 ^ The same question and answer are found in ITie Maistcrs of Oz- 
 ford^s Catechism^ which is written in fifteenth-century English. The 
 only variation is that occurring in the fifth, which reads : " Of air, 
 where-thorough he speketh and thinketh." (Ibid., p. 21'?.) 
 
roPULAR pniLosorHY. 169 
 
 And not only in England, but throughout the Continent 
 of Europe did Saloinon and Saturn, under diverse names 
 and in diverse forms, mold the maxims of the people/ 
 
 4. But back of all books, in the Aryan family, is a 
 common fund of wisdom bought from experience. The 
 oldest collection of such sayings in Old English is to be 
 found in the Exeter Book. The editor, Benjamin Thorpe, 
 has headed it Gnomic Verses.^ Many of them are com- 
 monplaces and truisms. Others of them give insight 
 into Old English thought. We are told, " Skillful men 
 should in proverbs commune." This is a traditional 
 saying from the old Scandinavian mythology, and by 
 the ordinary English intelligence of that day more 
 honored, we fear, in the breach than in the observance. 
 Some of the sayings are based ujion custom, as this one : 
 " The earl shall be magnificent in horses and geldings, 
 and in always and everywhere bestowing mead upon 
 his friends." Some, again, are generalized from expe- 
 rience, as this one referring to the choosing of worthy 
 companions : " A friendless unhappy man takes wolves 
 for his comrades ; a much crafty beast, the comrade 
 full often tears him ; there shall be horror for the gray 
 one." Or instance this one upon the gadding woman : 
 " A rambling woman scatters words ; she is often 
 charged with faults ; a man thinks of her with con- 
 tempt ; oft her cheek he smites." These are all of a 
 piece with what we have learned of the Old English 
 character. But we have found the people to be a home- 
 loving people. And so one of the most touching and 
 beautiful verses in this collection alludes to the comfort 
 
 ^ This influence has been traced with great learning and industry 
 in the version of Salomon and Saturn which Kemble prepared for the 
 J£\iv\c Society in 1848. 
 
 2 Exeter Book, pp. 333-346. 
 
170 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 the sailor experiences when he reaches home : " Dear 
 to the Frisian wife is the welcome guest, when the 
 vessel strands ; his ship is come, and her husband to his 
 house, her own provider. And she welcomes him in, 
 washes his weedy garment, wet with the sea, and 
 clothes him with new raiment. 'Tis pleasant on shore 
 to him whom his love awaits."^ And the mention of 
 the Frisian wife points to its antiquity. It was a re- 
 minder in the new homestead for the Englishman to 
 seek his wife among his own people. Tacitus tells us 
 of the exclusiveness of the Germanic tribes, and their 
 aversion to intermarriage with other races. 
 
 Y. — The Reflective Mood in Poetey. 
 1. We are now arrived at a new phase of English 
 thought. We have seen the English mind compare life 
 to the flight of a bird — in at one door and out at another, 
 whence it came and whither it went being equally un- 
 known to the lookers-on ; we have found death in its 
 thought to be a passing to the halls of Valhalla, there to 
 lead a life of riot and mead-drinking. Now that same 
 mind stops at the grave. It hai learned to distinguish 
 between body and soul. It considers what is to come of 
 that body after death. It is such a mood that inspires 
 this mournful poem called The Grave : 
 
 " For thee was a house built 
 
 Ere thou wert born ; 
 
 For thee was a mold meant 
 
 Ere thou of mother earnest. 
 
 But it is not made ready, 
 
 Nor its depth measured, 
 
 Nor is it seen 
 
 How long it shall be. 
 
 Now I bring thee 
 * Exeter Book, Gnomic Verses, p. 339. 
 
THE REFLECTIVE MOOD IN POETRY. 171 
 
 TVhere tLou shalt be, 
 And I shall measure thee 
 And the mold afterward, . . . 
 
 "Doorless is that house, 
 And dark it is within ; 
 There thou art fast detained, 
 And Death hath the key. 
 Loathsome is that earth-house, 
 And grim within to dwell, 
 And worms shall divide thee. 
 
 " Thus thou art laid, 
 And leavest thy friends ; 
 Thou hast no friend 
 Who will come to thee, 
 Who will ever see 
 How that house pleaseth thee, 
 "Who will ever open 
 The door for thee, 
 And descend after thee ; 
 For soon thou art loathsome 
 And hateful to see." ^ 
 
 2. And as English thought was pleased to contem- 
 plate the grave, so it makes the soul haunt it even after 
 death. The last journey of the soul was a long and 
 serious affair. Within the first seven nights after death 
 the soul was supposed to visit the body, and praise or 
 blame it according to its apprehensions of a favorable . 
 or unfavorable judgment. For according to Old English 
 thinking the soul had to pass three hundred years before 
 its lot was finally decided upon. This belief gives rise 
 to The SouVs Complaint to the Body : 
 
 *' Befits it well that man should deeply weigh 
 His soul's last journey ; how he then may fare 
 
 ^ Lonrfellow's translation. 
 
172 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 When death comes on him, and breaks short in twain 
 
 The bond that held his flesh and spirit linked : 
 
 Long is it thence ere at the hands of Heaven 
 
 The spirit shall reap joy or punishment, 
 
 E'en as she did in this her earthly frame. 
 
 For ere the seventh night of death hath past, 
 
 Ghastly and shrieking shall that spirit come — 
 
 The soul to find its body. — Eestless thus 
 
 (Unless high Heaven first work the end of all things) 
 
 A hundred years thrice told the shade shall roam." ^ 
 
 Here is evidently a trace of the Hindu and Egyp- 
 tian doctrine of the transmigration of souls. It is one 
 of the modes of accounting for the existence of ghosts. 
 It shows the persistency witli which the English mind 
 asked for a solution of the riddle beyond the grave. 
 
 3. A still later poem, which has been added to the 
 Old English poetical calendar, called 3fenology, repeats 
 the uncertainty of Beda upon the future condition of 
 man's soul. It sj)eaks almost despondingly : " The fu- 
 ture condition is dark and secret ; the Lord — the Re- 
 deeming Father — only knows. No one returns hither 
 under roofs, who here may reveal to men for certain 
 what is the condition of the Creator, what the glorious 
 habitation of people where Lie himself dwells." ^ Such 
 are the views of death this people has handed down to 
 us. They are grave and solemn. They are congenial 
 to its naturally serious thinking. A j)eople to which 
 war is a play, whose delight is in danger, and which has 
 
 ' TJie SouVs Complaint to the Body, Conybeare's translation ; text, 
 Exeter Book. 
 
 2 Menology^ edition of Rev. S. Fox, p. 55. The verses added to the 
 calendar proper are evidently by another hand. When Mr. Fox com- 
 pares them to a Pindaric Ode, he allows his admiration to run away 
 with his judgment. 
 
THE REFLECTIVE MOOD IN POETRY. 173 
 
 forgotten the halls of Valhalla, must needs question in- 
 tensely what lies beyond the grave. ^ 
 
 4. There is a fragment called The Ruin. It reveals 
 rare poetical power. It was evidently written by a true 
 child of song. But it is not, as has been suggested, of 
 a pre-insular date. The rude child of the forest knew 
 not the use of stone buildings, his eye was not familiar- 
 ized to tower and battlement and steepled splendor. All 
 this he learned later. But all this is found in the frag- 
 ment. The poet is meditative in presence of the ruins. 
 He remembers the mighty ones who once dwelt there. 
 He contrasts its present with its former condition : 
 
 Wondrous is this wall-stone, the fates have broken it — 
 have burst the burgh-place. Perishes the work of giants; fall- 
 en are the roofs, the towers tottering — the hoar gate-tow- 
 ers despoiled — rime on the lime — lirim on lime ; shattered are 
 the battlements, riven, fallen under the Eotnish race ; the 
 earth-grave has its powerful workmen ; decayed, departed, 
 the hard of gripe are fallen and passed away to a hundred 
 generations of people. . . . Bright were the burgh-dwellings, 
 many its princely halls, high its steepled splendor; there 
 was martial sound great, many a mead-haU full of human joys, 
 until obdurate fate changed it all ; they perished in wide 
 slaughter. . . . There many a chief of old, joyous and gold- 
 bright, splendidly decorated, proud, and with wine elate, in 
 warlike decorations shone ; looked on treasures, on silver, on 
 
 ^ The Dialogue between the Soul and the Body was very popular 
 throughout the middle ages in every country in Europe. Wright men- 
 tions versions in twelve different languages. In his edition of the 
 Latin Poems commonly attributed to Waller Mapes, edited for the 
 Camden Society (1841), he prints a Latin version, one in Anglo-Nor- 
 man, and two in thirteenth-century English. But none of them is as 
 early as the Old English version ; and it is no rash conclusion to say 
 that it is the suggester of the Latin version first, and through it of all 
 the others. 
 
174 JARROW AND YORK. 
 
 curious gems, on luxury, on wealth, on precious stone, on this 
 bright burgh of a broad realm. ^ 
 
 Thus it is that this reflective mood extends itself not 
 only to death, but to everything suggestive of death. 
 This intense seriousness is the largest trait of Old Eng- 
 lish thought. If at this stage it is not productive of 
 more fruitful results, it is because the Old English mind 
 is slow in its movements. 
 
 ^ Exeter Book, pp. 4*76-78. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WINCHESTER. 
 
 Another night of ignorance settled upon England. 
 The lights that issued from Jarrow and York became 
 extinguished in the ruins of these noble monasteries. 
 The Danes came, and during the greater part of the 
 ninth century pillaged churches, depopulated cities, out- 
 raged monk and nun, and brought in their trail misery 
 and barbarism. Their fury was especially directed against 
 monasteries and churches. They coveted their treasures 
 of gold and silver ; and despising their more valuable 
 ones of learning, they made use of books in setting fire 
 to the monasteries. Northumbria became a waste. 
 Learning was buried under the ruins of the monasteries. 
 Men forgot every art of peace. To preserve their lives, 
 hunt in the forest, and fight the Dane became their sole 
 occupation. They even forgot their Christianity. Con- 
 tact with their heathen kinsmen aroused in them heathen 
 recollections, and they reverted to their old heathen cus- 
 toms and practices. English life went back three cen- 
 turies. 
 
 I. — Alfred the Great. 
 
 Alfred (849-901) checks the Dane. After strug- 
 gles and adventures more frequent in the sphere of fic- 
 tion than in the domain of sober history, he establishes 
 his kingdom of Wessex on a secure footing. His next 
 
176 WINCHESTER. 
 
 step was to repair tlie evils of war. He gives Ms peo- 
 ple wise laws ; he sees that they are administered with 
 justice ; he becomes the terror of the evil-doer and the 
 unjust judge. But he is not satisfied to live for his day- 
 alone. He wishes to lay a foundation on which poster- 
 ity may build. He finds his people, lay and clerical, 
 steeped in ignorance ; he sets about remedying the evil. 
 " So general was the decay of learning," says he, " that 
 there were very few on this side the Humber who could 
 understand their rituals in English or translate a letter 
 from Latin into English ; and I believe there were not 
 many beyond the Humber. There were so few of them 
 that I can not remember a single one south of the Thames 
 when I came to the throne." ^ He establishes schools 
 and monasteries and convents. But the religious spirit 
 has become extinct. He can not get free English sub- 
 jects to become monks and inhabit the monastery he 
 built upon the Island of Athelney, so he has youths 
 brought from foreign parts to be trained in the habits 
 and discipline of the monastic life. He works in the 
 spirit of a man with large heart and broad views. He 
 is not tied down by prejudices of race. From Saxony, 
 from France, from Wales he gathers around him men 
 of learning and talent, that they may educate himself 
 and his people. 
 
 Alfred's love for English song and English story 
 was a passion. His mother was a Goth, his stepmother 
 a Frank. They both brought with them the traditional 
 song and story of their peoples. Their servants and slaves 
 used to sing them. From his childhood Alfred had been 
 taught them. Later he learned those of his own coun- 
 try, and took pride in remembering the poets who 
 
 * Gregory's Pastoral^ edited for the Early English Text Society, 
 by Professor Sweet, p. 3. 
 
ALFEED THE GREAT. 177 
 
 sang both the sacred and heroic songs of his English 
 speech. He delighted in hearing his people sing 
 them. He had his children taught them. He would 
 have every youth able to read English writing. For 
 this purpose he studies the Latin language late in life, 
 and works written in it that he has learned to prize, he 
 turns into English. " It seems better to me," he says, 
 " if ye think so, for us also to translate some books 
 which are most needful for all men to know into the 
 language which we can all understand, and for you to 
 do as we very easily can if we have tranquillity enough 
 — that is, that all the youth now in England of freemen 
 who are rich enough to be able to devote themselves to 
 it, be set to learn as long as they are not fit for any other 
 occupation, until that they are well able to read English 
 writing ; and let those be afterwards taught more in the 
 Latin language who are to continue learning and be pro- 
 moted to a higher rank." ^ These were views as enlight- 
 ened as they were useful. And yet note the modesty 
 with which they are put : " if ye think so." 
 
 Alfred translates books not only that children may 
 learn to read English writing, but that he may also in- 
 spire the clergy with a taste for letters. The Pastoral 
 of Gregory the Great he considered a most suitable 
 manual for them in their lethargic state. Accord- 
 ingly, he translated it. And in his simple, truth-tell- 
 ing way, he informs us how he did it : " Sometimes 
 word by word, and sometimes according to the sense, 
 as I had learned it from Phlegmund my archbishop, 
 and Asser my bishop, and Grimbald my mass-priest, 
 and John my mass-priest." "^ The teachings contained 
 in this book he encouraged by word and deed. Igno- 
 rance in church or state had no countenance from 
 * Gregory's Pastoral, pp. 6, Y. ^ Ibid., p. 7. 
 
178 WIXCHESTER. 
 
 him, while he always recognized and advanced learn- 
 ing. 
 
 Alfred would have his subjects acquainted with oth- 
 er countries and other times. A popular book at that 
 day was the Universal History of Paulus Orosius, a 
 Spanish priest. He was a friend and admirer of St. Au- 
 gustine, and at the latter's suggestion undertook the 
 writing of his history. The book suited the turbulent 
 times in which it was written ; not less so those in 
 which Alfred's life was cast. It is a record of human 
 miseries. It recounts all the calamities that bef el men 
 from the beginning. But it showed that over all pre- 
 sides a Providence. This book Alfred translates. He 
 even makes important additions to it. He describes the 
 geographical discoveries made by the Norwegian 0th- 
 here and the Jutlander Wulstan. Nor does he forget 
 the history of his own people. He has the JEcclesiasti' 
 cal Ilistory of the Venerable Beda put in such language 
 that all might read and understand it. 
 
 But the work he esj^ecially made his own was the 
 beautiful treatise of Boethius titled the Consolations of 
 Philosophy. It was a work congenial to his thinking. 
 He, like Boethius, had known adversity. He had found 
 himself more than once helpless and abandoned by his 
 friends. The despondent thoughts that occupy Boe- 
 thius in the beginning of his work also crossed his 
 mind. With delight did he find their solution in this 
 book. It was to him a true consolation. Deeply did 
 the words of the grand Roman Senator sink into his 
 heart. They became one with his own inner sentiments. 
 And not unf requently does his thought soar beyond that 
 of the Roman, especially when he speaks of the good- 
 ness and providence of God. It is an interesting study 
 to watch the process by which Alfred, with his imper- 
 
ALFRED THE GREAT. IY9 
 
 feet aequaintance of the Latin, and his own limited dic- 
 tion, endeavored to grasp the refined thoughts of this 
 man who embodied in himself all the Grecian and Ro- 
 man culture of his day. His ideas strain in the strug- 
 gle ; he changes imagery ; he digresses ; he amplifies 
 and paraphrases. The myths of ancient Greece and 
 Rome are, in his straightforward expression, old lying 
 tales — ealdiun leasiun spellum. In the rendering of 
 the other works, the royal author had assistance ; 
 perhaps his was the least share of the labor ; but in 
 every line of this we can trace his pen. It is with a 
 certain diffidence he sends it forth. He asks the reader 
 to pray for him and not to blame him if he more right- 
 ly understands the book than he could ; " for," he adds, 
 every man must, according to the measure of his under- 
 standing, and according to his leisure, speak that which 
 he speaketh and do that which he doeth." ^ And cer- 
 tainly Alfred lived up to this saying. His word and 
 his deed were in accord with his genius, and that seemed 
 unwearied in its exertions. He has his kingdom to 
 conquer ; he conquers it. He has to reform its whole 
 political machinery ; he succeeds so effectively that to 
 him do after-times attribute all manner of improve- 
 ments. He finds his people in the lowest scale of civ- 
 ilization and social comfort ; he has skilled mechanics 
 brought from the Continent to initiate them into better 
 methods of constructing furniture and buildings. From 
 Asser we learn that he had houses built which were 
 "majestic and good beyond all the precedents of his 
 ancestors." ^ He patronizes every branch of trade and 
 industry. He lives for his people. With a clear con- 
 science may he give this testimony of himself : " This 
 I can now truly say, that so long as I have lived I have 
 ^ Proem. ' Asser, TAfe^ p. 68. 
 
180 WINCHESTER. 
 
 striven to live worthily, and after my death to leave my 
 memory to my descendants in good works." ^ He has 
 his wish. His name is as revered to-day as it was one 
 thousand years ago. He is remembered as an able sol- 
 dier, a great statesman, a wise ruler, a lover of learning, 
 an author of repute, and a lawgiver. In the laws given 
 by Alfred and his successors let us endeavor to read the 
 temper of the latter part of the Old English period. 
 
 II. — Spirit of Laws. 
 
 A nation's laws are part and parcel of a nation's 
 existence. They grow with its growth, and strengthen 
 with its strength. This is the record of English law. 
 It is deeply rooted in the English nature. It has grown 
 out of its customs. It is the embodiment of the Eng- 
 lish sense of justice and liberty. "It is one of the 
 characteristic marks of English liberty," says Black- 
 stone, " that our common law depends upon custom ; 
 which carries this internal evidence of freedom along 
 with it, that it probably was introduced by the common 
 consent of the people." ^ We have seen how these laws 
 originated while the English were still in their Conti- 
 nental homesteads. We have seen them bring the same 
 laws and customs with them to their island home. But 
 Christianity has broadened men's views, and taught 
 them to look upon actions in another light and from a 
 higher plane. And it is to Christian legislation, and 
 not to Roman jurisprudence, that England is indebted 
 for the improvement made in her laws at this period. 
 And that legislation, in the course of time — slowly, 
 almost imperceptibly — tells upon the spirit of the laws. 
 
 1 Alfred's BoctUus, Cardale's Ed., p. 92. 
 
 2 Commentaries^ Intro., § 3, p. 50. 
 
SPIRIT OF LAWS. 181 
 
 The CouxciLS op the Church influence the old 
 customs. They take the people as they find them, mere 
 childi-en in their ways. They treat them as childi'en 
 to whom it is not enough to speak in general terms. 
 They enter into details varied and delicate on all the 
 moral duties of the individual. They legislate for nian, 
 woman, and child. These details would shock the pres- 
 ent public taste ; in modern books they are not to be 
 found outside the pages of moral theology. They show 
 the great difference between the old order of things and 
 the new. But the Councils did good to church and 
 state. They gave organic life and growth to the new 
 religion. They enforced discipline among the clergy, 
 in the convents, and in the monasteries. They estab- 
 lished regulations for the laity on matters the most 
 personal and private. They issued instructions for 
 them. They insisted on their renouncing all pagan 
 vices. ^ Nor were kings exempted from their wholesome 
 admonitions and exhortations. The marriage relations, 
 which in heathen days were almost hopelessly mixed 
 up, they by degrees straightened out and ameliorated. 
 The strength and efficiency of the very race was threat- 
 ened by consangTlineous connections. But the church 
 stepped in, placed her ban upon marriage within the 
 forbidden degrees of kindred, and thus saved the Eng- 
 lish from themselves.'^ The Councils gave unity in faith 
 and discipline to the Church in all parts of the island. 
 They drew together more closely the ties between Eng- 
 land and Rome. The Pope exhorts the bishops ; they 
 in turn exhort the clergy ; and the clergy exhort and 
 instruct the laity. ^ Christian principles also told upon 
 
 * " Ut reliquias paganorum vitiorum quisque abjiciat." {Cone. 
 Ccdchaith, a. d. 785.) 
 
 2 Wilkins' Concilia, L, p. 29. ^ /j^^/.^ i,^ p. 35. 
 
182 WINCHESTER. 
 
 the laws through the personal influence of bishop and 
 king. Thus the laws of Wihtraed were given, in 689, 
 in the assembly of the nobles, and in presence of the 
 archbishop and a bishop. We are further told that all 
 ecclesiastical orders had a voice in their formation. 
 We trace this Church influence in the articles relating 
 to the fasting of serfs and the keeping of holidays.^ 
 Again, to the Councils and personal influence of indi- 
 viduals, we must add the work of the confessional, as 
 a modifying agency upon the lives and ways of the 
 people. For public offenses a long list of penances, 
 graded according to the nature and degree of the crime, 
 was prepared and published. The Penitentials of Theo- 
 dore are the best known. A noteworthy feature of 
 these penances is the practice of adding to the fines 
 and reparations invariably a rigid fasting. Kow, when 
 we remember how sottish the Old English were in all 
 matters concerning meat and drink, we can not but 
 admire the wisdom of such a regulation. It was calcu- 
 lated to mortify the flesh, refine men's natures, and 
 make them more spiritual. And thus it was that the 
 Church assisted the laws of the state in the wcu'k of 
 elevating and civilizing thi3 people. Soon its influence 
 told on the spirit of legislation itself. The publishing 
 of so many codes at different times showed that a change 
 was going on in the body politic. "The very act of 
 legislation," says Professor Stubbs, "implies some crisis 
 in the history of the legislator." "^ 
 
 The English laws at first entered into details of per- 
 sonal injuries. Ethelbirht (d. 616) lays down the 
 customs of the land concerning the penalties to be paid 
 for wrongs done one's neighbor in his person or property. 
 
 » Cantu Hist. Un., t. vii., p. 361. 
 
 2 Constitutional History of England^ vol. i,, p. 194. 
 
SPIRIT OF LAWS. 183 
 
 The laws deal entirely with stealing, fighting, wound- 
 ing, and killing. " If one man slays another, let him 
 pay twenty shillings at the opening of the grave, and 
 forty days after let him pay all the compensation-money 
 to the family.* ... If the fore finger is cut off, eight 
 shillings atonement ; if the middle finger, four shillings ; 
 ... if the little finger, eleven shillings. . . . For each 
 nail, a shilling." ^ So, for each member of the body in- 
 jured is there a fine proportionate to its usefulness. The 
 laws of Ini take a somewhat wider scope. ^ They pro- 
 tect the wife and children against the injustice of the 
 husband : " If a man steal from his wife and children 
 that which may be necessary for them, let him pay a fine 
 of sixty shillings." * Alfred's laws still further protect 
 individual liberty. His last will and testament was that 
 the English be as free as their thoughts. But he knew 
 that there was no liberty without law. Accordingly, 
 he labored to bring justice, and with it liberty, to the 
 door of each free-born Englishman.^ And with no na- 
 tion in Europe was there greater liberty than with Eng- 
 land. Thus, while gilds were encouraged and recog- 
 nized .by English law, they were suppressed and perse- 
 cuted under Charlemagne and his successors. But we 
 must remember that England is the native soil of the 
 gild. It grew there out of the nature of things. When 
 the blood ties which we found to have been the first so- 
 cial bond became weakened, then was formed the peace- 
 gild. Men banded together and pledged themselves to 
 mutual protection. Under Ealhhere (860-866) there is 
 
 ' Ethelbirhtes Domds, § 22. 
 
 2 Jbid., §§ 54, 55. 
 
 ' Ini abdicated and went to Rome in 725. 
 
 * I)7es Ci/ninges Domus, § 7. 
 
 ^ Blackstone, Commeniarics, ch. iv., p. 27. 
 
184 WIXCHESTER. 
 
 a deed of a grant of land signed by Aethelhelm and 
 Cneatha, gildsmen.' Gilds became a necessity when 
 the Danes began to grow formidable throughout the 
 land. Alfred's laws show them to have been firmly estab- 
 lished in his day. " If," says one article, " a man kin- 
 less of father's kin fight and slay a man, and then if he 
 have mother's kin, let them give a third share of the weri- 
 geld; a third share, his gild-brethren ; for a third share 
 let him flee. If he have no mother's kin, let his gild- 
 brethren pay half ; for half let him flee." ' With time 
 this spirit of liberty extends itself to the slaves. Athel- 
 STAis^ (940) made them mutually responsible for crime 
 on the same basis of order as that extended to the free 
 class. But we can best recognize the source of this 
 principle when we remember that at the Council of 
 Chalcuith the bishops bound themselves to manumit all 
 the slaves on their estates after their death. The spirit 
 of Edgar's laws^ is still more Christian. Calumny 
 was treated with rigor. The guilty one was condemned 
 to have his tongue cut out. The wisdom of Dunstan is 
 traceable in every line of them. And as time advances 
 the tone of promulgation becomes still more ameliorated. 
 Ethelred strikes a new note when he writes : " And 
 the ordinance of our. Lord and his witan is that Chris- 
 tian men for all too little be not condemned to death ; 
 but in general let mild punishments be decreed for the 
 people^s need ; and let not for a little God's handiwDrk 
 and His own purchase, which He dearly bought, be de- 
 stroyed." This is the first censure cast upon the old 
 laws for condemning men to death " for all too little." 
 It is a pleading for life. It is a recognition of the 
 
 ' Fiicsirailes of Anglo-Saxon MSS. in Library of Canterbury, No. X. 
 2 Alfred's Laws, §§ 27, 28. 
 2 Edgar died in 975. 
 
SPIRIT OF LAWS. 185 
 
 origin and dignity of man ; and this in spite of the dis- 
 orders of the day and the growing degeneracy among 
 all classes. For we are now arrived at a period when 
 England is deeply sunk in barbarism only little less than 
 that from which she was drawn by Christian influence. 
 The Dane, in his daily habits, was more civilized than 
 his English cousin. He seems to have been, for that 
 day, scrupulously neat in his person. The monk of 
 Ely, among various accusations, mentions that accord- 
 ing to the custom of his country he combed his hair 
 daily, bathed on Saturdays, and often changed his 
 clothes.^ But he gave England more than the sol- 
 dier's red coat. Cxut centralized the government of 
 the country and ruled it with wisdom. His digest of 
 laws is based upon the ancient customs. He reproduces 
 whatever is good and equitable in the various codes 
 gone before. He lays stress upon the principle of jus- 
 tice. He would have every man do as he would be done 
 by, in confirmation of which he invokes the authority 
 of the Lord's Prayer. " The first thing I wish is, that 
 man support justice and diligently suppress injustice, 
 and that he weed out and root up every unright as best 
 he can out of this land and establish God's right, and 
 henceforth consider each one, poor as well as rich, 
 worthy of Folk-right, and let him be judged with a 
 just judgment." * While Ethelbirht simply lays down 
 the law, and Alfred backs it up with the Decalogue, 
 Cnut hints at the basis of justice upon which law stands. 
 Such is the nature of the growth and development of 
 Old English law. It indicates in its own way the life 
 and thought of the people from which it came. That 
 thought we find broadening and deepening with time. 
 
 * Hist. Eliensis, apud Gale, p 54Y. 
 ^ Cnut's Secuhr Laws, § 1. 
 
186 WINCHESTER. 
 
 The people have become rooted to the new homestead. 
 In consequence, a feeling akin to a sentiment of nation- 
 ality sprang up. How far that feeling found expression 
 it remains for us now to inquire. 
 
 III. — The Sentiment of Nationality. 
 
 1. This sentiment we find nowhere developed to a 
 passion in the Old English breast as it was in that of the 
 Kelt. His mind was less romantic and more prosaic. 
 That which came home to his selfishness touched him 
 most deeply.^ When Columkill mourns over his exile 
 in the most impassioned strains, he expresses his love for 
 his native land, not on account of the ease and comfort 
 that were his, but simply for its own sake : " My foot 
 is in my little boat, but my sad heart ever bleeds. 
 There is a gray eye which ever turns to Erinn ; but 
 never in this life shall it see Erinn, nor her sons, nor 
 her daughters. From the high prow I look over the 
 sea, and great tears are in my gray eyes when I turn 
 to Erinn — to Erinn, where the songs of the birds are so 
 sweet, and where the clerks sing like the birds ; where 
 the young are so gentle, and the old so wise ; where 
 the great men are so noble to look at, and the women 
 so fair to wed." ^ This is the pure ideal sentiment of 
 nationality. We seek it in vain in Old English poetry. 
 
 Take the poem known as the Wa?iderer. The faith- 
 ful retainer away from home bewails his beloved lord. 
 It is a touching record of friendship, but there is no 
 word of regret for country : 
 
 ^ " The poetic lamentations of the chronicler over the dead kings 
 may perhaps express the feeling of the churchmen and the courtiers, 
 but have nothing to answer to them in the case of the provincial 
 rulers." — Stubbs's Constitutional History of England^ vol. i., p. 213. 
 
 2 Apud Montalembert, Monks of the West^ vol. iii., p. 148. 
 
THE SENTIMENT OF NATIONALITY. 187 
 
 " For that knows he who thus must long forego 
 The loving counsel of his dear lord ; then oft 
 Both sorrow and sleep bind the poor solitary ; 
 He dreams he clasps and kisses his lord, 
 And lays his hand and head upon his knee, 
 As when he whilom enjoyed the gift-stool. 
 Then awakens again the friendless wanderer, 
 Sees before him the fallow waves, 
 The sea-birds bathe and spread their feathers; 
 Sees fall the snow and frost-rime mingled with hail. 
 In grief for the loved one, sorrow grows anew, 
 And memories of kindred pass over his mind ; 
 He Joyfully greets them, gazing eagerly on them." * 
 
 There is here a total absence of the sentiment that 
 cries out, " Evermore shall my country be all my love." * 
 
 2. But the book most characteristic of the Eng- 
 lish genius is the Old English Chronicle. There runs 
 through it an undercurrent of feeling dictated by a 
 love for recounting English deeds and an admiration 
 for English pluck. It gives a plain, unvarnished tale. 
 Things are stated as they happened. It is mostly a 
 book of names and dates dryly entered ; occasionally 
 there is a piece of fine description ; rarely a touching 
 expression, and in a few instances the chronicler bursts 
 forth into a poetical strain. The Chronicle is an ancient 
 and a precious document. It was a general custom 
 among the Teutonic nations to keep a record of their 
 principal deeds. This was preserved in Runic charac- 
 ters. *'The concurrent testimony of tradition," says 
 Kemble, ''and the evidence of actual fact, assure us 
 that throughout Europe short inscriptions were in use, 
 commemorative of great public events or of distin- 
 
 ' Wanderer^ 37-50. 
 
 ^ Chateaubriand, Le Montagnard Emigre. Compare Campbell's 
 Exile of Erin, and Beranger's Le Retour dans la Patrie. 
 9 
 
188 WINCHESTER. 
 
 guished individuals."' But the oldest MS. of the 
 Chronicle, as we now possess it, dates only from 891. 
 It was first filled up by a Northumbrian hand.'' Alfred 
 gave it a new impetus. Under Archbishop Phlegmund 
 it expanded into an historical narrative. Then, under 
 the Archbishops of Canterbury, it varied in interest. At 
 the time of the Korman Conquest, it was transferred to 
 the monastery of Peterborough, where it was continued 
 till the death of Stephen. In the mean time it was fre- 
 quently retouched. Such is the history of the Chron- 
 icle. It is racy of the soil. It is the most characteris- 
 tic literary product of English thought. It gave that 
 taste for historical research in which Enj^land shines 
 preeminent among the nations of Europe. No other 
 country can boast of such a vast collection of authentic 
 historical material.^ 
 
 The Chronicle, as in a mirror, reflects the various 
 moods of the people each year. Calamities are accom- 
 panied by signs and wonders: " a. d. 793. In this year 
 dire forewarnings came over the land of the Northum- 
 brians, and miserably terrified the people : there were 
 excessive whirlwinds and lightnings, and fiery dragons 
 were seen in the air. A great famine soon followed 
 these tokens ; and a little after that, in the same year, 
 on the VI. of the Ides of January, the havoc of hea- 
 then men miserably destroyed God's church at Lindes- 
 farne, through rapine and slaughter." Each natural 
 phenomenon has its record. The passage of a comet is 
 recorded in the same line with the passing of a saint and 
 the death and succession of a king : " a. d. T29. In this 
 
 ^ ArcJiceologia^ vol. xxviii,, p. 330. 
 
 2 Manual of Englhh Literature, by Air. T. Arnold, p. 16, 
 ^ See, foi' instance, that rich mine now being issued by the Master 
 of the Rolls. 
 
THE SENTIMENT OF NATIONALITY. 189 
 
 year the star comet appeared ; and St. Ecgberht died in 
 lona. And in the same year Osric died ; he was king 
 eleven winters ; then Ceolwnlf succeeded to the king- 
 dom and held it eight years. . . . a. d. 733. In this year 
 Athelbald captured Somerton ; and the sun was eclij)sed, 
 and all the sun's disk Avas like a black shield ; and Acca 
 was driven from his bishopric." Sometimes it is eulogis- 
 tic ; sometimes it finds a word of censure for those to 
 whom censure is due ; sometimes it moralizes in presence 
 of death, as when recounting the demise of William the 
 Conqueror. Monk Wulfsta:n' (1007-1095), who, it is 
 thought, was then editor of this national document, lets 
 his personality crop out : "If any wisheth to know 
 what manner of man he was, or in what worship he was 
 held, or of how many lands he was lord, then will we 
 write of him as we have known him ; for we looked on 
 him and in his household dwelt awhile." And in the 
 same place he makes these wholesome reflections which 
 reecho the poem of The Grave : " Alas ! how false and 
 how unstable is this world's wealth ! He who was be- 
 fore a powerful king and lord of many a land, had then 
 of all his land only a portion of seven feet ; and he who 
 was whilom decked with gold and with gems lay there 
 covered over with mold ! " ^ Centuries after, that 
 strain will be taken up by another Englishman, and in 
 the same spirit Sir Walter Raleigh will repeat what 
 is here written, and which he may have read. Speak- 
 ing to Death, he says : " Thou hast drawn together all 
 the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and 
 ambition of man, and covered it all over with these 
 two nari'ow words, lllcjacet /"^ 
 
 Thus toil these monks. They create this people's 
 
 ^ Under a. d. 1807. Ten Brink (JS. Eng. Lit., p. 144) thinks these 
 entries might have been made by Colman, the chaplain of Wulfstan. 
 2 History of the World. 
 
190 WINCHESTER. 
 
 civilization, they cultivate and preserve its language ; 
 they teach it refinement ; their culture extends to the 
 very soil as well as to intellect and heart. They record 
 the glories and trials — the strength and the weakness — 
 the shame and the honor of their race. But they have 
 no good word for themselves ; they keep in the back- 
 ground ; their names are frequent matter of conjecture ; 
 they sought only to have them inscribed in the book of 
 life. 
 
 3. Most forcibly is the sentiment akin to the national 
 feeling told in the poetic efforts that run through the 
 latter part of the Chronicle. These vary in merit. 
 That on the death of Edgar is a commonplace eulogy. 
 The very form of expressing his death is that which Old 
 English poetry naturally assumed. In the stereotyped 
 manner it tells that he left the joys of earth and chose 
 him other light : " a. d. 975. Here ended the joys of 
 earth for Edgar, King of Englishmen ; he chose him 
 other light beauteous and winsome, and left this frail, 
 this perishable life." ^ Of superior merit is the Battle of 
 Brunanburh. Passages in it recall the spirit of Beowulf 
 or the war-strophes of Cedmon. The poem must have 
 been the war-lyric of that day. It begins : 
 
 " This year King Athelstan, the lord of earls, 
 Ring-giver to the warriors, Ednaund too, 
 His brother, won in fight with edge of swords 
 Life-long renown at Brnnanbiirh. The sons 
 Of Edward clave with the forged steel the wall 
 Of linden shields. The spirit of their sires 
 Made them defenders of the land, its wealth. 
 Its homes, in many a fight with many a foe. 
 Low lay the Scottish foes, and death-doomed fell 
 The shipmen ; the field streamed with warrior's blood, 
 
 ' See Ante p. 4-5. 
 
THE SENTIMEXT OF NATIOXALITY. IQJ 
 
 When rose at morniugtide the glorious star, 
 The sun, God's sinning candle, until sank 
 The noble creature to its setting. There 
 Lay many a Northern warrior, struck by darts 
 Shot from above the shield, and scattered wide 
 As fled the Scots, weary and sick of war. 
 
 . The hard hand-play 
 The Mercians refused to none who came, 
 "Warriors with Anlaf, o'er the beating waves, 
 ■ And borne in the ship's bosom, came death-doomed 
 To battle in that land. There lay five kings 
 Whom on the battle-field swords put to sleep. 
 
 And they were young 
 
 Slaughter more than this 
 Was in this island never yet. Sword's edge 
 Never laid more men low, from what books tell. 
 Old chronicles, since hither from the east 
 Angles and Saxons, over the broad sea, 
 Looking for land, sought Britain — proud war-smiths 
 Who won the country from the conquered AVelsb.^ 
 
 In modernizing the language, we lose the force and 
 energy of the original. The alliteration, the constant 
 repetition of the same expression in short lines for sake 
 of emphasis — all remind one of the hammering of swords 
 that must have gone to make this war-play. It is a 
 chaunt that in its day must have been soul-stirring. 
 Cunningly did the poet weave into his lyric not only 
 the event of Athelstan's victory, but the fact of the 
 conquest of the chief part of the island of Britain. In 
 the same martial spirit is written the Fight at Maldoii. 
 Byrhtnoth, an eldorman of Essex in 991, resists the 
 Danes, and loses his life in the contest. Hard and well 
 he fought. Noble and true stood his companions by 
 
 * Translation by Henry Morley in Early English Writers, vol. i., 
 p. 420. 
 
192 WINCHESTER. 
 
 him. Fast and heavy fell the war-beam on the shield. 
 This lyric was first printed by Hearne in prose form at 
 the end of his edition of the chronicle of John of Glas- 
 tonbury. The MS. was burned in the fire that was so 
 disastrous to the Cotton Library in 1731. It comes 
 nearest to the Homeric standard of war-songs. Dia- 
 logue and action blend ; the men encourage each other ; 
 challenge is answered by defiance. The whole is rela- 
 ted with a precision of style that is rare in Old English 
 literature. Here is a characteristically English passage : 
 " The hour was come when the fated warriors should 
 fall. Shouts arose ; the ravens congregated, and the 
 eagle greedy of its food ; a cry was on the earth. They 
 darted from their hands many a stout spear ; the sharp- 
 ened arrows flew ; the bows were busy ; the buckler 
 received the weapon's point ; bitter was the fight ; war- 
 riors fell on either side ; the youths lay slain." And 
 then the poet enters into details of the behavior of each. 
 Even the cowards are not forgotten. Words seem to 
 accumulate even as the blows. But English valor could 
 not withstand the foe. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ABINGDON. 
 
 In spite of treaty and compromise, of the payment 
 of Danegelt and the establishment of Danalaga, in spite 
 of an occasional victory brilliant enough to be recorded 
 in song, the Danes succeeded in making themselves the 
 rulers of England. Though they imposed upon the 
 people many of their practices and customs and per- 
 sonal habits, and revived old superstitions, they ended 
 by becoming better Christians than their Christian 
 teachers. But with war and devastation also came 
 ignorance. The English lost all love for book-lore. 
 The good work of Alfred was nipped in the bud. His 
 educational reforms were only poorly carried out after 
 his death. Dunstan revived them wdth some tempo- 
 rary success. Under his fostering care Glastonbury 
 became "the great public school of England for the 
 education of the higher classes of society." - Among 
 his most zealous and accomplished disciples was Ethel- 
 wold. He combined in himself all the learning of the 
 day. He had studied abroad, and had made the ac- 
 quaintance of the most eminent men. He writes a 
 treatise on the quadrature of the circle, which he ad- 
 
 ^ lAves of the Archbishops of Canterbury, vol. i., p. 424. 
 
194 AB^GDON. 
 
 dresses to Gerbert/ He is an eminent educator. He 
 is an active restorer of monastic life and monastic dis- 
 cipline. At the request of King Edgar he translates 
 St. Benedict's Rule of a Monastic Life ^ into English, 
 and in return the King gives him the manor of South- 
 bourne.^ He restored the decayed Abbey of Abingdon, 
 and revived in it the religious life. Soon this abbey 
 became renowned as a center of learnino;. Amons; the 
 first to become a pupil of Ethehvold's was Alfric. 
 
 I. — The Two Alfeics. 
 
 1. From a literary point of view Alfkic is the chief 
 figure of this period. Not that he was in any sense a 
 great genius, or even remarkably learned. But he took 
 an active part in the educational and religious reforms 
 of the day. He was imbued with the spirit of Dunstan. 
 It grieved him to see so many priests unable to read the 
 Sacred Scriptures in the Latin. " Once I knew," he 
 tells us, " that a certain mass-priest who was my master 
 at that time, had the book of Genesis, and he could 
 scarcely understand Latin." * So he translates the Hep- 
 tateuch, the Book of Job, and other portions of the 
 Holy Scriptures into his mother-tongue. He gave his 
 countrymen what might be called the first Latin-Eng- 
 lish dictionary. Accompanying Ethelwold to Winches- 
 ter, when the latter was made bishop of that see, he 
 helped considerably by his practical teachings to spread 
 the fame of the school there established. In all his 
 writings he is very particular about his language. He 
 
 ^ This treatise is to be seen in MS. in the Bodleian Library. MS. 
 Digby, No. 83. 
 
 2 MS. Cotton, Faustina, A. X. 
 
 3 TJwmce Eliens. Hist., apud Wharton, Anglia Sacra, vol. i., p. 604. 
 * Preface to Alfric's Translation of Ganesis. 
 
THE TWO ALFRICS. 195 
 
 admonishes the scribes to copy his works carefully. 
 " He does great evil," says he, " who writes false, unless 
 he correct it ; it is as though he turns true doctrine to 
 false error ; therefore should every one make that straight 
 which he before bent crooked, if he would be guiltless 
 at God's doom." ^ Might he have in these words any 
 allusion to the controversy raised after six hundred years 
 over his doctrinal teachings ? Be this as it may, certain 
 it is that his warning was not heeded ; for his words 
 have been misquoted and misunderstood. 
 
 About 990 Alfric prepared his Homilies.'^ They 
 are not original. They are simply translations from 
 the sermons of various authors in the Latin, with here 
 and there a digression. They are intended to be read 
 to the people on Sundays and festivals. Alfric trans- 
 lated them with the intention of giving men correct 
 notions of their religion, and to prepare them for the 
 last day. It was then a general impression that the 
 year 1000 would be the end of the world. All this 
 Alfric tells us in his own quaint manner : " It occurred 
 to my mind, I trust through God's grace, that I would 
 turn the book from the Latin language into the English 
 tongue ; not from confidence of great learning, but be- 
 cause I have seen and heard of much error in many 
 English books, which unlearned men, through their 
 simplicity, have esteemed as great wisdom ; and I re- 
 gretted that they knew not nor had not the evangelical 
 doctrines among their writings, those men only ex- 
 cepted who knew Latin, and these books excepted which 
 King Alfred wisely turned from Latin into English, 
 which are to be had. For this cause I presumed, 
 
 * Introduction to Homilies. 
 
 ^ Text : Alfric Society Publications. Alfric's Homilies^ vol. i., 1844 ; 
 vol. ii., 1847. Edited by B. Thorpe. 
 
196 ABINGDON. 
 
 trusting in God, to undertake this task, and also be- 
 cause men have need of good instruction, especially 
 at this time, which is the ending of this loorld ; and 
 there will be many calamities among mankind before 
 the end cometh, according to what our Lord said 
 in the gosi^el." ^ The ending of the world did not ar- 
 rive ; but Alfric lived in the latter days of Old English 
 letters. The Homilies are rather doctrinal than emo- 
 tional. There is a lack of directness in them. 'They do 
 not always come home to the wants of the hour. Such 
 a stirring up as is contained in the celebrated sermon of 
 Bishop Wulfstan is what the people needed.'^ And 
 sometimes Alfric undertakes to make plain to his Eng- 
 lish readers and listeners the controversial points dis- 
 cussed on the Continent. These theological distinc- 
 tions he himself was initiated into, by the monks from 
 Corbie who were sent to England at the request of 
 Ethelwold. He especially imbibed the doctrines of 
 Ratramnus on the holy Eucharist. ISTow it happened 
 that from the days of Scotus Eregina, the dogma of 
 the Eucharist had been under frequent discussion. 
 And while Catholic theologians held firmly to the 
 belief in the Real Presence, they differed materially 
 concerning the manner of Its existence. It was these 
 discussions that led up to the heresy of Berengarius 
 a few years later. A large portion of the sermon of 
 Alfric is a translation of the treatise of Ratramnus. 
 So long as both Ratramnus and Alfric assert the doc- 
 trines of the Church, their language is clear ; it be- 
 comes obscure only when they undertake to reason upon 
 
 ^ Preface to the Homilies. 
 
 2 Given in Turner's History of iJie Anglo-Saxons^ b. vi., ch. xiv. ; 
 also in Wright's Biographia Literaria, vol, i. Mr. Wright, with Wan- 
 ley, identifies Lupus with Bishop Wulfstan. 
 
THE TWO ALFRFJS. 19 7 
 
 the mystery. Both say : " This sacrament is a pledge 
 and a figure : Christ's body is truth." ^ Nor in this 
 were they saying aught contrary to Catholic teaching. 
 But the ring of this passage is unmistakable ; it speaks 
 the faith not only of Alfric, but of the whole Church 
 then as now : " The bread and the wine which are hal- 
 lowed through the mass of the priests, appear one thing 
 to human understandings without, and cry another thing 
 to believing minds within. Without they appear bread 
 and wine, both in aspect and in taste, but they are, 
 truly, after the hallowing, Christ's body and His blood 
 through a ghostly mystery."^ The disputes about Al- 
 fric clearly prove the consequences to which a disregard 
 of time and place may lead. History must consult the 
 one and the other. Events can not be isolated. ^ 
 
 2. Sermons and homilies were the order of the day. 
 Many there wer^ who delighted in writing these 
 sermons in their mother-tongue. The period was an 
 active one for the cultivation of Old En owlish. Men 
 sought to compose well and speak well. The literary 
 revival tells upon the clergy. Among the most remark- 
 able body of sermons that have come down to us are 
 the £lickling Homilies.^ They were composed about 
 971. They embody much of the traditional and legend- 
 ary knowledge concerning the saints and the Blessed 
 Virgin Mary. We are treated to a sermon on the ap- 
 proaching end of the world, in which men are exhorted 
 
 ' Ratramnius's words are : Hoc corpus pignus est et species : illud 
 Veritas. 
 
 ^ Homilies, vol, ii., p. 269. 
 
 ^ For a full account of the doctrine of the Eucharist as treated by 
 Alfric, see Lingard's Antiquities of the Anglo-Saxon Churchy note N. 
 
 4 Text : E. E. T. S. Pub., part i., 1874 ; part ii., 1876. The BlicUing 
 Homilies are so named because they are preserved in the Marquis of Lo- 
 thian's library, at Blickling Hall, in Norfolk. See AthencBum, No. 2820, 
 
198 ABINGDON. 
 
 to prepare for it with all due diligence.* St. Andrew 
 is dealt with precisely as in the poem of Andreas. The 
 account is more literal. The poetical episodes and the 
 old epic allusions are omitted. The author, however, 
 must have had a poet's soul. A beautiful simplicity 
 runs through his sermons. He pictures things with life- 
 like reality. A characteristic instance is the sermon on 
 the Assumption of Mary.^ We are transported to the 
 scene of her death-bed. Our Lord is there. And the 
 apostles are there. And they speak of her great virtues 
 and high prerogatives. All the details of preparing a 
 corpse for burial are entered into. Then some wicked 
 Jews w^ould intercept the body as it was borne to the 
 grave. But they are struck blind and they fall to the 
 ground, and miracles are wrought at her coffin. In the 
 mean time her soul ascends to heaven : " And then the 
 Lord received her soul and gave it to St. Michael the 
 archangel, and he received her soul with the prostration 
 of all his limbs. And she had nought upon her save 
 only a human form, and she had a soul seven times 
 brighter than snow." The author makes no attempt 
 to convince his hearers. He speaks to them of that 
 which he and they believe without a shadow of doubt. 
 Altogether, the J^UcMing Homilies are made out of 
 more homespun material than are those of Alfric. They 
 lack the Scriptural accuracy and the learning of Alf ric's ; 
 but they more closely represent the average sermon of 
 the day. The same is true of Wulfstan's sermons. 
 They are upon the topics of the hour. The good bishop 
 brings home to his people the calamities that were be- 
 falling them. As Gildas regarded the English conquest 
 as a punishment of the sins of his countrymen, so does 
 Wulf Stan regard the Danish invasion. Men had become 
 » X., p. 106. 2 147^ 
 
THE TWO ALFKICS. 199 
 
 unnatural. The strong tie of kinship was weakened '. 
 " Now, very often, the kinsman protected his kindred 
 no more than strangers, nor the father his child, nor 
 sometimes the child his own father, nor one brother the 
 other." Crime and vice he denounced as sitting in places 
 high and holy. 
 
 3. Alfric had a disciple of the same name with the 
 surname of Bata — Alfkic Bat a. He was exclusively 
 an educator. He continued the methods he had learned 
 from his more celebrated master. We have seen how 
 fond the English were of putting their subjects in the 
 shape of question and answer. In this manner did both 
 Alfrics teach the Latin language. They first arranged, 
 in Old English with interlinear translation, a series of 
 conversations on the leading trades and occupations of 
 the day. This was enlarged and improved by the second 
 Alfric. The Colloquies ^ have passed down to us one 
 of the best and liveliest pictures of their day. We are 
 introduced to the plowman and the shepherd and the 
 ox-herd ; we converse with the fisher, and the hunter, 
 and the fowder, about their crafts ; the merchant tells 
 us what goods he has and how he sells them ; the black- 
 smith, the shoemaker, and the baker have a good word 
 each for his respective trade. And the cook tells us 
 that if we were to send him away, and do our own cook- 
 ing, then would we all be slaves and none of us lord, 
 and moreover, he adds, " without my craft ye eat not." 
 Finally, we have a full picture of the student's life. He 
 tells us the hour of rising and the time spent in prayer 
 and study ; he tells us what he eats and what he drinks ; 
 he tells us where he sleeps, and how sometimes he arises 
 when he hears the matin knell, " and sometimes my 
 teacher awakens me roughly — stithlice — with a rod." 
 ^ Text: Thorpe's Analecta Anglo-Saxonica. 
 
200 ABINGDON. 
 
 Being asked what lie drinks at meals, he answers : 
 " Ale, if I have it, or water if I have no ale." Wine he 
 considers a rather costly drink : "I am not so rich that 
 I might buy me wine ; and wine is not a drink for chil- 
 dren or foolish persons, but for elders and the wise." In 
 those days, too, was there a code of honor among stu- 
 dents. The scholar is asked and replies as follows : 
 " Were you beaten to-day ? I was not, for I was very 
 careful. And how about your companions ? Why ask 
 me of them ? I dare not disclose our secrets — Ic ne 
 dear yppan tM deglu Hre. Each one knows if he were 
 beaten or no — ^9ird geliwilG icdt gif he heswungen icaes 
 oththe nd." Thus it is that this little book serves a pur- 
 pose far different from that intended by Alfric Bata. 
 It raises the curtain of time and transports us back to 
 the inner life and thought of a past civilization. 
 
 II. — Tenth Century Poetky. 
 
 1. To speak generally, this period may be set down as 
 a period of moralizing, of translating, and of paraphras- 
 ing. Men seek to bring the science, the learning, the 
 religious teachings of the day within the grasp of the 
 many. Euclid is studied in English ; Beda's scientific 
 treatises are read in English ; church-hymns are sung in 
 English. Bridforth (fl. 980) won renown as the most 
 eminent English mathematician of the latter part of the 
 tenth century.^ The name and the writings of Alfred 
 continued to be revered ; and one admirer of his turned 
 his prose translation of the verses of Boethius into cor- 
 responding verse, and called it Alfred'' s Meters. And 
 men forgot Alfred's wisdom and his practical cast of 
 mind so far as to think that in the midst of his mani- 
 
 1 Wright, Biog. Brit. Lit., vol. i. 
 
TENTH CENTURY POETRY. 201 
 
 fold occupations he could have amused himself in writ- 
 ing such weak poems. So they said Alfred wrote them.* 
 Again, for educational purposes, interlinear translations 
 became popular. It is thus we have Latin church-hymns 
 with an Old English glossary between lines ; ^ and the 
 Gospels were so interlineated. It is from this early 
 practice that has passed into our English speech the 
 custom of calling any effort to go back of what is writ- 
 ten and get at the unexpressed meaning or intention of 
 the writer, "reading between lines." The poetry of 
 this period must have been abundant, though of an in- 
 ferior order. In 979, the Council held under Dunstan 
 decrees that men abstain from fabulous readings ; that 
 on holidays they forbear from heathenish songs and 
 diabolical sports ; and that no priest be a common 
 rhymer.^ This shows that such things were carried to 
 excess. But what these heathenish songs or fabulous 
 readings were is beyond our knowing at present. The 
 only poetry of this time that has come down to us is of 
 a devotional or moral character ; and that same lacks 
 the inspiration of genius.* The Old English were de- 
 voted to the Blessed Virgin Mary. As early as 680 the 
 Council of Hatfield proclaimed Mary to be properly and 
 truly the Mother of God, retaining inclissolubly her vir- 
 
 ^ " They vrere probably composed by some obscure writer of the 
 tenth century, who imagined that Alfred's version of Boethius was im- 
 perfect so long as the meters were only given in prose." Wright, Biog. 
 Brit. Lit., p. 400. See, however, Anglia, vii., i., p. 173. 
 
 2 Latin Hymns of tlie Anglo-Saxon Church, with Interlinear Anglo- 
 Saxon Glossary. From a MS. of the eleventh century, in the libra- 
 ry of the Dean and Chapter of Durham, published by the Surtees 
 Society. 
 
 3 Wilkins's Concilia, i., p. 225. 
 
 * It is contained in the MS. presented by Bishop Leofric to the Ex- 
 eter Cathedral ; hence called the Exeter Book, or Codex Exoniensis. 
 
202 ABINGDON. 
 
 ginity even after the birth of the Saviour/ The Old 
 English poet, in contemplating the Incarnation^ thus 
 rhapsodizes on the Mother of God : " O thou Mary, of 
 this mid world, the purest woman upon earth of those 
 who have been throughout all ages ; all men endowed 
 with speech, blithe of mood, say how with right thou 
 art Bride of the most excellent Lord of heaven. So also 
 the highest in the heavens, also Christ's disciples, say 
 and sing that thou, with holy virtues, art Lady of the 
 glory -host, and of mundane natures under the heavens 
 and of hell's inmates. For that thou, alone of all 
 mankind, nobly didst resolve, boldly devising, that thou 
 thy maidenhood to the Lord wouldst bring and give 
 without sins. . . . Now we before thy Child gaze in our 
 mind ; intercede for us now with bold words, that He 
 let us not any longer obey error in this vale of death, 
 but that He convey us into the Father's kingdom, where 
 sorrowless we may after dwell in glory with the God of 
 hosts." ^ Even in its hymns of piety this childish intel- 
 lect must attempt to solve riddles. Here is one in a 
 poem on the Natwity. We are told that at the ascen- 
 sion the angels appeared in white robes. Now, our poet 
 wishes to know why, *' when the Almighty was born 
 through a state of purity, after that He Mary, choice of 
 maidens, illustrious damsel, for mother chose — that 
 there, clad in white robes angels appeared not ? . . . 
 Yet in books it saith not that they in white robes ap- 
 peared." ^ In the poem on the Ascension, we find an 
 idea couched in the old epic phraseology : " The ad- 
 versaries might not in battle prosper — in the hurling of 
 
 ^ Wilkins's Concilia, i., p. 53 ; Rev. T. E. Bridgctt, Our Lady's 
 Doiory^ p. 39. 
 
 ^ Codex Ezonicnsis, p. 1*7. 
 3 Ihid., p. 29. 
 
TEXTH CEXTURY POETRY. 203 
 
 weapons — when the King of Glory, heaven's kingdom's 
 chief — waged war against his ancient foes with his sole 
 might, when from captivity he drew forth of spoils the 
 greatest, from the foe's city numberless people." ^ The 
 picture is that of an English chief taking with him the 
 cattle and slaves that he has wrested from his con- 
 quered foe, imaged, be it said, with devotion and rever- 
 ence. 
 
 2. The Hymn of Praise marks a new turn taken by 
 the Old English mind. It shows that war and piracy 
 have ceased to be men's all-absorbing thought. Wis- 
 dom and book-lore and science and eloquence take pre- 
 cedence of the sterner labors. " Then honored us He 
 who this world created — God's Spirit-Son — and gave us 
 grace above with angels — seats eternal — and also mani- 
 fold wisdom of thought sowed and set in the minds — 
 sefan — of men. To one eloquence he wisely sendeth 
 into his intellect through his mouth's guest, noble un- 
 derstanding. . . . One can the harp awake ; . . . one 
 can Divine law rightly expound ; . . . one can tell of 
 the star's course ; . . . one can cunningly verbal utter- 
 ance write. To one success in battle He giveth, when 
 the shaft-shower, over the shield's defense, warriors 
 send ; . . . one can boldly over the salt sea the vessel 
 drive ; . . . one can the tree — lofty steep — ascend ; . . . 
 one can work a steeled sword ; . . . one knoweth the 
 course of the fields." "^ This is the religious view of man's 
 duties. Now it so happens that we are enabled to pre- 
 sent our readers with the secular side of the callings of 
 life. It includes the lawful and, like gambling, the un- 
 lawful. The poem is on the Various Fortunes of Men. 
 " The Lord allots various callings to all : to one success 
 
 ^ Codex Exoniensis^ p. 35, 
 2 Ihid., p. 41. 
 
204 ABINGDON. 
 
 in war, stern battle-play ; to one in casting or shooting 
 briglit glory ; to one skill at tables, cunning at the col- 
 ored board. Some doctors wise become — hoceras ; for 
 one a wondrous skill in goldsmith's art is provided ; full 
 oft he decorates and well adorns a poAverfnl king's 
 noble, and he to him gives broad land in recompense, 
 and he joyfully receives it. One shall give pleasure to 
 man in company at beer-delight — the bench-sittersr- 
 where there is great joy of drinkers ; . . . one is very 
 strenuous, has a cunning play of merry deeds, a gift 
 before men, light and pliable of limb. . . . One shall 
 sit with the harp at his lord's feet, money receive, and 
 ever quickly with rapid flexions send forth a loud sound. 
 . . . One shall tame the wild bird proud — the hawk on 
 his hand — till that the martial swallow becomes gen- 
 tle." ^ Such were the avocations both religious and 
 secular poet thought worth singing. The poems throw 
 additional light on the tastes and occupations of those 
 distant days. 
 
 3. But England had other forms of thought, though 
 they were not indigenous to her people. They were 
 popular throughout Christendom, and seem to have had 
 a Greek, perhaps an Asiatic, origin. They are known 
 as Bestiaries. But where the Latin text is concise, the 
 English paraphrase is diffuse and labored. It was a 
 favorite manner of teaching moral truth with the early 
 Churchmen.^ They were pleased to draw parables from 
 the habits of the animal creation. Nor was it to them 
 a matter of moment that some of the animals were 
 
 ^ Codex Exoniensis, p. 331-2. 
 
 2 See Wright's edition of a Bestiary in Norman French, translated 
 by Philippe de Thaun, " for the honor of a jewel, who is a very hand- 
 some woman ; Aliz is she named, a queen is she crowned — Queen of 
 England." — {Popular 2'reatises on Science, p. 75.) 
 
TEXTH CENTURY POETRY. 205 
 
 fabled and the habits of others feigned. The moral 
 truth remained equally convincing. Thus we have the 
 poem of the Phoenix.^ The terrestrial paradise in which 
 it lives is described. We are told the manner in which 
 it rises out of its own ashes quite rejuvenated. And 
 then the moral is di'awn. We have the poem of the 
 Panther!^ His skin is variegated with all colors. He 
 likes all living things save the serpent. So is the Lord 
 kind to everything in life except Satan, the old serpent. 
 Then we have the poem on the Wliale.^ The whale 
 was a very popular subject for allegory in the Middle 
 Ages. The whale's mouth was the stereotyped repre- 
 sentative of the jaws of hell in description and in picture 
 and in the scenic accompaniments of the miracle-plays. 
 This poem speaks of him as being so large that he is 
 taken for an island, and ships anchor by him. Here is 
 a reproduction of the incident told of Sinbad the Sailor 
 in the Arabian Niglits' Entertainment. We are further 
 infoinned that this monster beguiles little fishes into his 
 mouth and devours them. Then follows the moral, spun 
 out to impressive lengths, that even so does the devil 
 beguile souls, and devour them. 
 
 4. Foreign influence is blending more and more in 
 English letters to the immediate disadvantage of English 
 thought. The new grooves of thinking are not con- 
 genial to the English mind. Foreign influence is ruling 
 the monasteries ; foreign influence is beginning to make 
 itself felt in the Church ; foreign influence is gathering 
 round the court. Edward brino-s from Rouen l!^orman 
 tastes and Norman ideas. The very dry legal deeds 
 
 ^ Codex Exoniensis. 
 
 ^ Popular Treatises on Science^ p. 356. 
 
 3 Ibid., p. 364. 
 
206 ABINGDON. 
 
 indicate a change in thought and manner of wording. 
 Their expression is entirely alien to the Old English 
 homely way of putting things. We have before us a 
 deed of the grant of land made by King Edward to 
 Eadulf, his thegn. It is such as might have been 
 worded in the latter days of the Roman Empire. The 
 writer of it must have been imbued with classic studies. 
 He speaks of Olympus and the nod of the Archruler. 
 The deed begins in the usual form : " Our Lord Jesus 
 Christ reigneth." Then it proceeds in this strain : 
 " While all creatures were in the beginning fashioned 
 and created beautiful by the providence of the Arch- 
 ruler, who maketh in many modes and divers forms 
 Olympus, with the stars, to be revolved at his nod.' " 
 Here follow the details of the grant. We have come 
 upon a time of revolution within the kingdom and with- 
 out it. The Godwins surround Edward and set the 
 whole island in a flame. Edward dies ; Harold is de- 
 feated at Senlac ; the Norman rules England, and the 
 curfew tolls the death-knell of Old English letters and 
 ultimately of the Old English language. 
 
 COKCLUSION. 
 
 We have endeavored to trace the growth and de- 
 velopment of English literature from the first dawnings 
 of history to the Norman Conquest. In the fragments 
 which have been snatched from the ravages of time we 
 have studied the spirit that dictated them and the mode 
 of life that made them congenial. We have glanced at 
 
 ^ " Ac multis modis ac diversis speeiebus olymphum cum sideribus 
 rotari suo nutu perficieiis." Deed of Eadweard in 1049, Fac-Similes 
 of Anglo-Saxon MSS., MSS. at Canterbury photozincographed by Lieu- 
 tenant-General Jo Cameron, Director of tiie General Ordnance Survey. 
 
COXCLUSION. 207 
 
 tlie manners and customs, the laws and the songs of the 
 English people while it still dwelt in its Continental 
 homestead. Many of these we found common to all 
 the Teutonic races, others were peculiar to the English.^ 
 We found this people to have epic poems and war-songs 
 and an historical record so far back that it were useless 
 to name a definite period. We saw this peoj^le trans- 
 plant its whole organic constitution to the insular home- 
 stead. We saw it confront and partially subjugate 
 another and a kindred race with other manners, other 
 customs, and a different cast of mind and temperament, 
 and we studied the dispositions of each in the light of 
 the other. We traced Keltic influence on English and 
 Continental literature long before English exclusiveness 
 is broken through and Keltic blood tells upon Teutonic 
 character. The English were Christianized. We point- 
 ed out the traits of similarity and of difference which 
 existed in the old creed and the new. We watched the 
 civilizing progress of the Christian influence. This peo- 
 ple, profoundly religious even in its paganism, becomes 
 enthusiastically so in the true religion. It creates a 
 Christian epic in the Song of Cedmon. It sends abroad 
 missionaries who convert the kin it left in the Continen- 
 tal home. There too the religious spirit bursts forth in 
 poetry, the fragments of which are too few. Of the 
 poem corresponding to Cedmon's Paraphrase we have 
 only the beginning, now known as the Weisseiihrunn 
 Hymn. And the first part of that is but slightly differ- 
 
 ^ See Statistique Judiciaire des Francs^ des Anglo-Saxons et autres 
 Pev.rjics du Moyen-Agc^ par M. Moreau de Jonnes, in the Seances et 
 Travaux de VAcademie des Sciences Morales et Politiques^ Comptes Ren- 
 clxs, 1852-3. See also the discussion that followed the reading of this 
 insti'uctive paper, exhaustive on every topic but the influence of Chris- 
 tianity upon Salic and Saxon laws. 
 
208 CONCLUSION. 
 
 ent from the cosmogony of the northern mythology. 
 It expresses the idea that God created from nothing- 
 ness with clearness. " Questioning sages, wisest of men, 
 I learned that earth was not, nor heaven above, nor tree, 
 nor was there mountain, nor any star, nor did sun shine, 
 nor moon give light, nor was there the vast sea. Then 
 was there nought from end to end of the universe. But 
 there existed the one Almighty God, most merciful to 
 man, and with Him were also many Godlike spirits." * 
 This is eminently Christian. 
 
 When by means of these paraphrasings and Christian 
 cosmogonies men got a taste for the Sacred Scriptures, 
 these books were translated into all the Teutonic dia- 
 lects — into English and Frankish, and Old Saxon and 
 Gothic — and thus the Bible became the basis of Teu- 
 tonic literature. This is a fact worthy to be remem- 
 bered. It is a clew to other literary phenomena. 
 
 We have found that after England had become 
 Christian her literature became preeminently religious. 
 Theodore added to the store of common knowledge the 
 traditions of the East. Aldhelm sang some of these 
 traditions and praised virginity. Benedict Biscop im- 
 proved the tastes of his countrymen. He brought books 
 and pictures and music and singers and artists and arti- 
 
 ^ " Dah chifrcgin ih mit firahim, firiwizzo mcista, 
 Dat ero ni was, noh uf himil, 
 Noh paum noh pereg ni was, 
 Ni [sterro] nohheinig, noh sunna ni scein, 
 Noh mano ni liuhta, noh der mareo seo ; 
 Do dar niwiht. ni was, enteo ni wenteo, 
 Enti do was der eino Almahtico Cot 
 Manno miltisto, enti (dar warun auh) manaho mit inan 
 Cootlice Geista." 
 The Hymn as copied by Grimm in 1812, in Weissenbrunn, Fran- 
 conia, whence its name. 
 
CONCLUSIOX. 209 
 
 ficers from the Continent to instruct them in the mechan- 
 ic and liberal arts and to build for them better houses. 
 And Aldfred, the learned King of Xorthumbria, gener- 
 ously seconded his efforts. We see him at one time 
 giving him nine hundred acres of land for a geographi- 
 cal book. We have seen Wearmouth and Jarrow shed 
 luster, not only on England, but on the whole of West- 
 ern Europe. Beda is the brightest light of his age. 
 Alcwin reflects that light in France, and transplants the 
 methods of Beda and Archbishop Ecgberht on the banks 
 of the Rhine. England becomes the educator of West- 
 ern Europe. Then came the Dane. He destroys in a 
 short time the accumulated labors of centuries. In seven 
 short years he has sacked and burned every monastery 
 and convent in Xorthumbria. What was a garden of 
 peace and saint liness becomes a desert waste. Alfred 
 checks his course, and makes Winchester another focus 
 of learning. Again the light wanes ; then it revives 
 under the fostering care of Dunstan and Ethelwold and 
 Alfric ; Glastonbury, and Abingdon, and Winchester 
 become each a celebrated seat and nursery of scholars 
 and zealous monks and clergy. But the Norman de- 
 spises the Old English language ; it ceases to be written, 
 and soon runs waste into as many dialects as there are 
 shires, till Old English literature is extinguished in the 
 last entry of the Chronicle. 
 
 Such, in a few words, is the record of the rise and 
 fall of Old English literature. We have found beneath 
 it change, and growth, and development. With Chris- 
 tianity came a new civilization and a new order of ideas. 
 Tastes were cultivated, manners refined, views broad- 
 ened, and natures spiritualized. But the work is still 
 imperfect. Many elements are lacking. In all that re- 
 mains of Old English literature, we have met with no 
 
210 CONCLUSION. 
 
 trace of mirth, or wit, or humor, or the sentiments of 
 love and j^atriotism — sentiments the essence of which is 
 total forgetfulness of self and absorption in the object 
 of one's affections. In the stead, we have found a grave 
 seriousness, a robust energy, love of Avar, a religious 
 nature, and an unconquerable selfishness ; we have found 
 a slow-moving intelligence and a corresponding utter- 
 ance. English life, political, social, and intellectual, is 
 still in its infancy. 
 
 But other influencing agencies are about to act upon 
 English life, and mold the English mind. The Nor- 
 man will come and conquer, and will bring with him 
 new models in architecture, in art, and in letters ; he 
 will introduce feudalism, with its thorough social and 
 military organization, and will teach new modes and 
 habits of living ; he will initiate this rugged and robust 
 intelligence into the secret of artistic construction in 
 composition, and will refine and elevate its tastes. The 
 struggle for predominancy between the old order and 
 the new will take centuries ; but the outcome will be an 
 improved civilization, a language rich and flexible, and 
 adequate to the most varied thought and sentiment. 
 The work of education will still go on. Monks will set- 
 tle in Cambridge and in Oxford, bringing with them the 
 new philosophy and the new learning of Paris, and Eng- 
 lish youths will acquire habits of severe mental disci- 
 pline and precision of language from scholastic train- 
 ing. Italy, through the writings of Dante and Petrarch 
 and Boccaccio, will teach them complete artistic forms 
 of expression. Spain will indoctrinate them with an 
 elevated mysticism that will spiritualize their ideas. 
 From France again, during the Restoration, they will 
 bring home with great licentiousness in morals, plays 
 abounding in wit and humor, from which they will 
 
CONCLUSION. 211 
 
 learn to write comedy in a sprightly fashion. In this 
 manner will Europe assist in the growth and develop- 
 ment of the English mind. And then the English mind 
 in turn will react upon European thought, and Locke 
 and Berkeley and Hume will start that train of specu- 
 lation of which Kant with modern transcendentalism is 
 the outcome. So runs educative influence through the 
 ages ; so does people act upon people ; so does each 
 epoch transmit to the succeeding epoch its legacy of 
 thought and language ; so does an age adapt itself to 
 environment of customs and industries and expression 
 in word and art, and the sum of civilization into which 
 it is born, and so is there a continuity of thought even 
 as there is a continuity of life. 
 10 
 
IJSTDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 A 
 
 Abingdon 193 
 
 Adrian 132 
 
 Aidann 91 
 
 Alcwin 161 
 
 his genius and influence as an 
 
 educator 162, 163 
 
 Aldfred, King of Northumbria. 153, 209 
 
 Aldhelm (656-719) 133, 159 
 
 his style 134 
 
 his praise of virginity 134 
 
 he writes Old English poems. . . 135 
 
 probable author of Andreas 136 
 
 Alfred's Meters^ not written by 
 
 Alfred the Great 200 
 
 Alfred the Great (849-901) 175 
 
 he checks the Danes 175 
 
 he encourages learning 176 
 
 his love for Old English song... 176 
 his desire to see all his subjects 
 
 educated 177 
 
 he translates Gregory's Pas- 
 toral 177 
 
 he translates Boethius's Conso- 
 lations of Philosophy 178 
 
 the benefactor of his people 179 
 
 his lavFS 183 
 
 Alfric 194 
 
 his Homilies 195 
 
 Alfric Bata 199 
 
 his Colloquies 199 
 
 Andreas 136, 198 
 
 Aneurin (510-560) 66 
 
 Arabian Nights'' Entertainment. 205 
 Arnold, Matthew, Keltic influence 
 
 on English poetry 59 
 
 Arnold, T. , on Beowulf (note) 46 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Aryan and English, their kinship . . 6 
 
 Ascension., hymn of the 202 
 
 Asser 177 
 
 Athelstan 184 
 
 Athens 13 
 
 Augustin 84 
 
 books he brings to Engbnd 85 
 
 Aurelius Conanus 63 
 
 Avitus 18 
 
 B 
 
 Baldr, legend of 92 
 
 Battle of Brunanhurh 190 
 
 Beda (672-735) 13, 153 
 
 his school 154 
 
 his knowledge 155 
 
 his writings 154, 156 
 
 his death 157 
 
 Benedict Biscop 152 
 
 Beowulf: an Old English epic 39 
 
 analysis of the poem 39-44 
 
 it is composed of two cycles 42 
 
 the dragon-cycle 42-44 
 
 theories concerning the poem. . . 44 
 its present shape accounted 
 
 for 46 
 
 its ideal 47 
 
 Bestiaries 204 
 
 Blickling Homilies 197, 198 
 
 'Qo^t^An^ Consolations of Philoso- 
 phy 178 
 
 Boniface 159 
 
 Brecca 9 
 
 Bridforth 200 
 
 Brutus, story of, preserved by the 
 
 Kymry 61 
 
 Byrhtnoth 15 
 
214 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 c 
 
 Canon of literary criticism 3 
 
 Canterbury 131 
 
 Carausius employs Frankish mer- 
 cenaries 53 
 
 Cedd 91 
 
 Cedmon : Palgrave's theory con- 
 cerning (note) 9T 
 
 story of his life unraveled 100 
 
 the songs he will not sing 101 
 
 his call to the religious life 108 
 
 he devotes himself to religious 
 
 poetry 104 
 
 origin of the story that he was 
 
 an illiterate workingman 105 
 
 he sings of the Holy Kood 107 
 
 he bewails the passing away of 
 
 his friends 108 
 
 secret of his success 110 
 
 his death-bed 112 
 
 he paraphrases the sacred Scrip- 
 tures 114 
 
 his Satan compared with MH- 
 
 ton^s 119 
 
 his description of the destruc- 
 tion of Pharaoh and his host. 122 
 
 his influence at home 123 
 
 his influence abroad 125 
 
 Chaldean mythology identical in its 
 
 first principle with Teutonic. 50 
 
 Charm for sprained limb 94 
 
 Christian version of 95 
 
 Chrestien of Troyes 73 
 
 Cnut, his laws 1S5 
 
 Coifi '. 87 
 
 Colloquies of Alfric Bata 199 
 
 Columkill 90, 186 
 
 Continental homestead 5 
 
 Councils of the Church in England. 181 
 
 Creide, the beautiful 73 
 
 Cynewulf. 140 
 
 his poem of Elene 1*1 
 
 his poem of St. Juliana 143 
 
 his Last Judgment 144 
 
 D 
 
 Danes 175 
 
 Deor, his character and pojm. . . . 8o-37 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Duel, the, prevalent among the 
 
 Teutonic races 18, 19 
 
 Dujon 129 
 
 Duns Scotus 75 
 
 Dunstan 193 
 
 E 
 
 Ebel on the affinity between Keltic 
 
 and Teutonic languages 57 
 
 Edain, Queen, the legend of 74 
 
 Edda, the, on woman 27 
 
 Edgar : his laws 184 
 
 death of 190 
 
 Edwards on the infusion of Keltic 
 
 blood among the English 58 
 
 Edward the Confessor 205, 206 
 
 Egil 25 
 
 England's relapse to paganism 88 
 
 English : on their Continental 
 
 homestead 5-56 
 
 soil, climate, and character 8 
 
 Eorls and ceorls 15 
 
 Eostre 93 
 
 Ethelbirht, laws of. 182 
 
 Etheldrida, Queen 157 
 
 Ethelred, his laws 184 
 
 Ethelwold 193 
 
 F 
 
 Ferdiad and Cuchulaind 69 
 
 Fight at Finnesbv/rgh 37, 38 
 
 Fight at Maiden 191 
 
 Food of the Old English 32 
 
 Frankish mercenaries in Britain 
 
 under Carausius 58 
 
 O 
 
 Gaedhil and Kymry 68 
 
 Gildas CI 
 
 his fierce invectives 62 
 
 his Epistle characterized 63 
 
 Gnomic Verses 169 
 
 Gondebaud 18 
 
 Grave, The ITO 
 
 Gregory the Great (550-6^4) 79 
 
 his administrative genius 81, 82 
 
 his writings 82, 83 
 
INDEX. 
 
 215 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Grimbald 177 
 
 Grimm on Beovmlf. 46 
 
 GuUveig 55 
 
 Guihlac, St., a poem 149 
 
 H 
 
 Haenir 53 
 
 Hagen 26 
 
 Haigh on Beowulf. 45 
 
 Ilalltiorn, the myth of 105 
 
 Hamdir 11 
 
 Herbert Spencer 54 
 
 Hilda, St 97 
 
 Ileliand, the 127 
 
 Homilies : Alfric's 195, 196 
 
 Blickling 197 
 
 Hunferth 9 
 
 Hymn of Praise 203 
 
 I 
 
 Idda 11 
 
 Jncarnation, hymn of the 202 
 
 Insular homestead 77 
 
 Ireland iu the sixth century 89, 90 
 
 J 
 
 Jarrow and York 152 
 
 John, Alfred's mass-priest 177 
 
 John the Chanter 153 
 
 Jotenheim 51 
 
 Judith, a poem 147 
 
 K 
 
 Kelt and Teuton 57 
 
 difference of character. 60 
 
 Keltic descriptive power 69 
 
 Keltic passion for color 69 , 
 
 Keltic sentiment 72 
 
 Kemble : on Teutonic settlements . 14 
 
 on Beowulf. 46 
 
 L 
 
 Lament of Beor 35 
 
 Language and poetry on the Con- 
 tinental homestead 33-47 
 
 Lappenberg on the possession of 
 
 land 20 
 
 Laws and customs 12 
 
 Laws, spirit of. 150 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Leobgitha 159 
 
 Literature : a criterion of civilization 1 
 
 not all a people's thought 1 
 
 the outcome of a people's life. . . 2 
 
 Llywarch Hen (490-5S0) 67 
 
 his lament over bis son Gwenn. 67 
 
 his poetic tenderness 68 
 
 Location of houses and villages 21 
 
 Locke 54 
 
 Lodur 53, 54 
 
 Loki 55 
 
 Lombard law 12 
 
 Lover's Message 151 
 
 M 
 
 » 
 
 Maildulph 133 
 
 Maine, H. S., on aristocracies 13 
 
 Malte Brun refuted 48 
 
 Marculf, a remarkable formula in.. 27 
 
 Mary, Blessed Virgin, devotion to, . 201 
 
 Math, legend of. 75 
 
 May -pole, heathen origin of 94 
 
 Mead-Hall, the, described 30 
 
 Menology 172 
 
 Morley, Henry : on Beovmlf 46 
 
 on Keltic influence among the 
 
 English 59 
 
 N 
 
 Nationality, sentiment of, among 
 
 the Old English 186 
 
 Nativity^ h}-mn of the 202 
 
 Nibelungen-lied.. .'. 26 
 
 Nicor 93 
 
 Northumbria a waste 175 
 
 O 
 
 Odin 53 
 
 Old English : lands in common 20 
 
 love for war 22 
 
 Old English Chronicle 187 
 
 its history 188 
 
 its characteristics 188-189 
 
 Olympus 206 
 
 Ordeal by fire and water 19 
 
 Orosius, Paulus 178 
 
 his Universal History trans- 
 lated by Alfred 178 
 
 Oswald 91 
 
216 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 P PAGE 
 
 Panther, the 205 
 
 Paradise Lost 119 
 
 Pastoral, Gregory's 177 
 
 Paulinus 86 
 
 Peredur or Parcival T2 
 
 Philosophy : among the Old Eng- 
 lish 47-56 
 
 creation 49, 50 
 
 doctrine of fate 52 
 
 origin of plant and animal 53 
 
 the problem of good and evil. . . 55 
 
 popular 163 
 
 Phlegmund 177 
 
 P/ic&nia5, the, an allegorical poem . . 205 
 
 Q 
 
 Quid a, ThrynCs (quoted) 55 
 
 R 
 
 Eagnar Lodbrok 11, 29 
 
 Kowena 29 
 
 Puin, The, a poem 173 
 
 Pule of a Monastic Life 194 
 
 S 
 Salic law 12 
 
 /Salomon and Saturn 166-169 
 
 Sanskrit and EngUsh, their rela- 
 tions 6-8 
 
 Satire, a power with the Kelt 70 
 
 Scop, The 34 
 
 Seriousness, trait of Old English 
 
 thought 174 
 
 Shadow and substance 91 
 
 Sidonius 10 
 
 Signi and Sigmimd 25 
 
 Sigulf, his catechism 165 
 
 Skimen 52 
 
 Sorli 11 
 
 SouFs Complaint to the Body. 171, 172 
 
 Sparrow, the parable of the 87 
 
 Stubbs : on the possession of land 
 
 (note) 20 
 
 on legislation 183 
 
 T 
 
 Tacitus : describes the Old English 
 
 homestead 9 
 
 on Old English manners and 
 customs 23 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Taliesin (520-570) 67 
 
 Theodore of Tarsus (602-690) 131 
 
 Penitentials of 182 
 
 Theodelinda 81 
 
 Thor, derivations from 7S 
 
 Thorkehn on Beowulf. 46 
 
 Thorpe on Beowulf 45 
 
 Triads 65 
 
 U 
 
 Uni/oersal History of Orosius 178 
 
 TTrd, well of 52 
 
 TJrien 11 
 
 V 
 Vafthrudni 155 
 
 Valhalla 92, 173 
 
 Valkyriur 52 
 
 Various Fortunes of Men, & -poevci 203 
 
 Visigoths 11 
 
 Vortigern 29, 62 
 
 Vortipore 64 
 
 W 
 
 Wager of Battle 19 
 
 Wanderer, The 186, 187 
 
 "Wealthow 28 
 
 Wearmouth 156 
 
 Weissenhrunn Hymn, the 207 
 
 Welsh Triads 65, 70 
 
 Werigeld and Widrigeld 16 
 
 Wliale, the 205 
 
 Widsith (cir. 370) 34 
 
 Wiglaf 15 
 
 Wihtraed, laws of. 182 
 
 Winchester 175, 209 
 
 Wiseman, Cardinal, on EngUsh 
 
 and Persian 7 
 
 Woden, derivations from 78 
 
 Woman : her condition 23, 29 
 
 her occupation 28 
 
 the Old English ideal of 26 
 
 Balmes on 25 
 
 Wright on bowers 28 
 
 Wulfstan : Bishop 198 
 
 Monk 189 
 
 Y 
 
 Yggdrasil 52 
 
 Ymir 50 
 
 York 152 
 
 Yule-tide 94 
 
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