Gesta Romanorum Read online

  W. H.

  LONDON, July 31st, 1876.

  * Gesta Romanorum, von H. Oesterley. Berlin, 1872.

  * Taylor’s edition, in three volumes. 1840.

  * Illustrations &c, p. 532. See Oesterley, p. 266.

  † In discussions on the Gesta Romanorum the reader must remember that “chapter” = “story.”

  ‡ Oesterley, p. 267.

  * Oesterley, p. 268.

  †Ibid. p. 241.

  ‡ Ibid. p. 244.

  § Ibid. pp. 187, 245.

  || Douce, Illustrations, &c., p. 535.

  * Oesterley, pp. 1, 245.

  † Ibid. pp. 245, 246.

  ‡ Ibid. p. 253.

  * Oesterley, p. 266.

  † Ibid. p. 264,

  * Oesterley, p. 262.

  † Ibid. pp. 254, 255.

  ‡ Ibid. p. 256.

  § Ibid. p. 257. “Von jeder familie ist uns mindestens ein codex aus der mitte des 14 jahrhunderts erhalten,” and the rest of the page.

  || Ibid. pp. 257 and fol.

  * Oesterley, p. 260.

  † Ibid. p. 261.

  ‡ Ibid. p. 261.

  § Ibid. p. 261.

  || Ibid. p. 262.

  ¶ Ibid. p. 262. Grässe, Gesta Romanorum, ii. 302.

  * See above, pp. viii., ix.

  INTRODUCTION.

  SECTION I.

  THE History of Romantic Fabling is enveloped in much perplexity; nor is it diminished by the various conjectures which have been started and upheld. The labours of ingenuity are not always convincing; and perhaps the very fact of their plausibility leads us to mistrust. Discussion upon remote history is ever attended with difficulty; and arguments that rest upon the basis of refined deduction—that are artfully designed to pull down one system while they support another equally imaginative, may have a well-founded claim to admiration, but not upon the score of truth. It is singular how the mind loves to grasp at mystery, and to disport itself in the chaos of departed time. It springs undauntedly forward, unappalled by the numberless shadows which flit in “dim perspective” before it, and undeterred by the intricacies of the way. It would seem like a captive escaped from confinement, wantoning in the excess of unaccustomed liberty. And the more boundless the subject, the less timid we find the adventurer; the more perilous the journey, the less wary are his movements. Boldness appears to constitute success; as if, because the faint-heart never attained the fair lady, modest pretensions and unassuming merit never secured the lady TRUTH. It is a libel upon the head and the heart; and cannot be too speedily abandoned.

  Of the theories already advanced, none, it seems to me, is perfect; and none, without some portion of accuracy. They each go part of the way, but stop before they touch the mark. Bishop Percy, after Mallet, attributes the invention of romance to the ancient Scalds or Bards of the North. “They believed the existence of giants and dwarfs; they entertained opinions not unlike the more modern. notion of fairies; they were strongly possessed with the belief of spells and enchantments, and were fond of inventing combats with dragons and monsters.”1 Now, this is unequivocally nothing less than the entire machinery employed in all the Arabian Tales, and in every other oriental fiction. Such a coincidence no one will suppose the result of accident ; nor can it for a moment be believed that the warm imaginations of the East—where Nature brightens the fancy equally with the flowers—borrowed it from the colder conceptions of the Northern bards. Many parts of the Old Testament demonstrate familiarity with spells; and Solomon (which proves a traditional intercourse, at least, between the Jews and other people of the East), by universal consent, has been enthroned sovereign of the Genii, and lord of the powerful Talisman. In David and Goliath, we trace the contests of knights with giants: in the adventures of Samson, perhaps, the miraculous feats attributed to the heroes of chivalry. In the apocryphal Book of Tobit, we have an angel in the room of a SAINT; enchantments, antidotes, distressed damsels, demons, and most of the other machinery of the occidental romance.2 Parts of the Pentateuch, of Kings, &c., &c, appear to have been amplified, and rendered wild and fabulous; and were the comparison carried minutely forward, I am persuaded that the analogy would be found as striking as distinct. I mean not that this has always been the immediate source: I am rather inclined to suppose that certain ramifications, direct from the East, already dilated and improved, were more generally the origin. But Scripture, in many cases, furnished a supernatural agency without pursuing this circuitous route; as well as heroes with all the attributes of ancient romance. In the old French prose of Sir Outel, chap, xxiv., we have the following exclamations on the death of the knight Roland, which partly confirm my observation:—“Comparé à Judas Machabeus parta valeur et prouesse; ressemblant à Sanson, et pareil à Jonatas fils de Saul par la fortune de sa triste morte !” The Jewish Talmud, and especially the commentary upon it, abounds with fables, composed in some respects of the materials worked up by the Scalds, but long anterior in date to their compositions, so far as they are known.

  Dr. Percy contends that “old writers of chivalry appear utterly unacquainted with whatever relates to the Mahometan nations, and represent them as worshipping idols, or adoring a golden image of Mahomet.”3 This, I should conceive, would naturally be the case. It was the aim of Christian writers to represent the infidels in the worst light possible. They thought them the most wretched beings in creation; and they might, therefore, artfully pervert their creed and exaggerate their vices. Most frequently, such would be the genuine result of their abhorrence: just as popular superstition pictures the “foul fiend” with horns, and cloven feet, and a hideously distorted countenance—not because it is really accredited, but because nothing is thought too vile or too fearful for the Evil One. The hostility which the crusades excited and nourished; nay, the very difference of religious feeling, would necessarily call out the whole virulence of an age not remarkable for its forbearance; and it is absurd to suppose that the intercourse so long maintained between the two continents (both previous to these expeditions, and subsequent) should not have given them a sufficient acquaintance with the Saracen belief and mode of worship. If the great Saladin required and received knighthood from the hands of the Christians,1 it argued a degree of intimacy with European customs on the one side, which it would be unfair and arbitrary to deny the other.

  That the Scalds added some circumstances to the original matter, and rejected others, is extremely probable. The traditions which conveyed the fable would, of course, be corrupted; not only from the mode of conveying it, but from the dissimilarity of customs and ideas among those by whom it was received. All I contend for is the original ground, upon which they and other nations have built; and this, I think I shall be able to demonstrate, purely oriental. But it is objected that, if the Northern bards had derived their systems from the East, they would have naturalized them as the Romans did the stories of Greece. It is thought that they must have adopted into their religious rites the same mythology, and have evinced as strong a similitude, as the nations of classical celebrity. There is, in truth, no basis for such an assertion to stand upon. The long intercourse between these nations, their vicinity to each other, and, more than all, the original similarity of their worship, prepared the Romans to receive the devotional system of a conquered country without hesitation. They understood and valued Grecian literature, and consequently found an additional motive for the reception of Grecian theology. It accorded with preconceived notions; it was, in fact, a part of their own. Besides, the Romans were rising in civilization, and caught at every shadow of improvement. The people of the North were totally the reverse. They were the children of Nature—of Nature yet unbetrothed to Art. They were not, therefore, prepared by anything analogous to produce a similar effect: and could but seize the most prominent features that were presented to them, upon which to engraft their own wild and terrible stories.

  Warton has written a long dissertation to prove that the Arabians, who had been for some time seated on the north
ern coasts of Africa, and who entered Spain about the beginning of the eighth century, “disseminated those extravagant inventions which were so peculiar to their romantic and creative genius.”1 This hypothesis Bishop Percy has endeavoured to refute; and, according to Mr. Ellis,2 he has entirely succeeded. The argument advanced on this occasion is that, were it true, “the first French romances of chivalry would have been on Moorish, or at least Spanish subjects, whereas the most ancient stories of this kind, whether in prose or verse, whether in Italian, French, English, &c, are chiefly on the subjects of Charlemagne and the Paladins, or of our British Arthur, and his Knights of the Bound Table, &c, being evidently borrowed from the fabulous chronicles of the supposed Archbishop Turpin, and of Jeffrey of Monmouth.”3 Something in this there may be; but it is still clear that intercourse, of whatever kind, existing between two nations, must, to a certain degree, supply information relative to their peculiar habits and belief. That each side would hold communication with their captives, either from political motives or otherwise, is consistent with the experience of all ages; and, surely, not every individual would be so fastidious as to repel a closer intimacy. Courtesy, humanity, intrigue, &c, would, in some few at least, open a door to an unfettered interchange of thought; while gratitude for certain benefits might operate on others. In the course of a multifarious warfare, such things must occur; the line of separation must occasionally be removed, and youthful hearts and minds must, now and then, however sundered by human prejudices, break down the strongest barrier that interposes between them. If this be granted, when the history of such times and such circumstances was forgotten, the literature which they had helped to disseminate would remain. The legendary tale of the sire descends unmutilated to the son; and the fact is on record, though the occasion be obliterated. The fabulous chronicle of Turpin might then be drawn up; having its superstructure on French manners, but its basis on oriental learning. Much time must inevitably elapse before new systems can take root; and when they do, it is imperceptibly and silently. Hence, may the hostile incursions of the Saracens have introduced some portion of Eastern fiction: but not all; for it is the common tendency of a conquered country to engraft its own character and customs upon those of the stronger power.

  It has been observed by Eitson (whose virulent and ungentlemanly abuse of his opponents is disgusting in the extreme!) that neither the Spaniards, nor any other nations of Europe, had an opportunity of adopting literary information “from a people with whom they had no connection, but as enemies, whose language they never understood, and whose manners they detested; nor would even have condescended or permitted themselves to make such an adoption from a set of infidel barbarians who have invaded, ravaged, and possessed themselves of some of the best and richest provinces of Spain.”1 Much of this is in substance what has been contended against above; and that a very short period of servitude will not open the sources of a more friendly communication—in appearance at least—between nations under such circumstances, is contrary to historical fact and to human nature. The enslaved must look up to the enslaver for protection— for support; and the latter in return would enforce, under the penalty of extermination, the aid which was considered requisite. Thus, however involuntary and hateful, intercourse must be under all situations. But here the fact is, as Mr. Warton remarks (though Eitson pleases to overlook it), that after the irruption of the Saracens, the Spaniards neglected even the study of the Sacred Writings, for the express purpose of acquiring the Arabic. This curious passage is cited by Du Cange, whose words I shall quote at length:—

  “Quod vero supra laudatus Scriptor anonymus de Galliae nostrae in Lingua Latina barbarie ante Caroli M. tempora, idem de Hispania post Saracenorum irruptionem testatur Alvarus: ubi neglectis et posthabitis Scripturis Sanctis, earumque sacris interpretibus, quotquot supererant Christiani, Arabum Chaldseorumque libris evolvendis incumbebant, gentilitia eruditione prceclari, Arabico eloquio sublimati, Ecclesiasticam pulchritudinem ignorantes, et Ecclesiœ flumina de Paradiso manantia, quasi vilissima contemnentes, legem suam nesciebant, et linguam propriam non advertebant Latini, ita ut ex omni Christi Collegio vix inveniretur unus in milleno hominum genere, qui salutatorias fratri posset rationaliter dirigere literas, CUM REPERIRENTUR ABSQUE NUMERO MULTIPLICES TURBÆ, QUI ERUDITE CHALDAICAS VERBORUM EXPLICARENT POMPAS. Quod quidem ahunde firmat; qnæ de Elepanto Toletano suprà diximus. Sed et inde satis arguimus unde tot voces Arabicæ in Hispanam, subinde sese intulernut.”1

  We have, then, a complete refutation of Ritson’s strongest objection ; and perhaps had not the spleen of the writer been more powerful than the good sense and feeling of the man, he never would have hazarded the remark. And if judicial astrology, medicine, and chemistry, were of Arabian origin, and introduced into Europe a century at least before the crusades; if Pope Gerbert, or Sylvester II., who died A.D. 1003, brought the Arabic numerals into France, it is surely reasonable to suppose that these sciences, so intimately connected with magical operations (and with fictions from them) as to confer upon the possessor a title to supernatural agency, would extend their influence to the legendary stories, as well as to the manners of the West, which these very stories are admitted to describe! Yet, after all, it is not to be imagined that the introduction of Eastern invention happened at one time, or in one age; it was rather the growth of many times, and of many ages—continually, though gradually, augmenting, till it attained maturity.

  The next hypothesis gives Armorica, or Bretany, as the source of romantic fiction. But to this, the same objections arise that have been started with respect to the rest. Mr. Ellis, in the introduction to his Specimens of Early English Romances, plausibly suggests that all are compatible. He imagines “that the scenes and characters of our romantic histories were very generally, though not exclusively, derived from the Bretons, or from the Welsh of this island; that much of the colouring, and perhaps some particular adventures, may be of Scandinavian origin, and that occasional episodes, together with part of the machinery, may have been borrowed from the Arabians.”2 Which is as much as to say, that each nation contributed something, and very likely they did; but which furnished the greater part, or which originated the whole, is just as obscure as before a “reconciliation” of opinions was projected. This conciliatory system will remind the reader of Boccacio’s tale of The Three Rings, “the question of which is yet remaining.”

  Another supposition attributes the chief source of romantic fiction to classical and mythological authors; that is, to the stories of Greece and Rome, somewhat altered by modern usages. To this belief Mr. Southey3 and Mr. Dunlop seem to incline. The latter adds that, “after all, a great proportion of the wonders of romance must be attributed to the imagination of the authors.” But when these wonders, similarly constructed, pervade the most remote countries, there must be something more than an author’s imagination brought into the account. Consideration, however, is due to the idea of a classical origin; and this, blended with the rest, may help to make up a perfect system. Before I proceed to the attempt, I would advert to certain observations which Mr. Dunlop has promulgated in his History of Fiction. He says, “It cannot be denied, and indeed has been acknowledged by Mr. Warton, that the fictions of the Arabians and Scalds are totally different.”1 Much misunderstanding would doubtless be avoided by accurate references: and if Mr. Dunlop be correct in what he asserts, it would be a pleasant thing to know the edition and page to which he alludes. In contradiction to the insinuation here thrown out, Warton says, “But as the resemblance which the pagan Scandinavians bore to the Eastern nations in manners, monuments, opinions, and practices is so VERY PERCEPTIBLE AND APPARENT, an inference arises, that their migration from the East must have happened at a period by many ages more recent, and therefore most probably about the time specified by historians.”2 And again, “These practices and opinions co-operated with kindred superstitions of dragons, dwarfs, fairies, giants, and enchanters, which the traditions of the Gothic Scalders had already planted: and produced that ext
raordinary species of composition which has been called ROMANCE.”3 In another place, indeed, he admits that there were “but few” of these monsters in the poetry of the most ancient Scalds ; but that few is quite sufficient for the argument.

  So that, one would think, Warton supplies no testimony in support of a doctrine, which I cannot help fancying may be proved altogether groundless. “Allowing the early Scaldic odes to be genuine,” says Mr. Dunlop, “we find in them no dragons, giants, magic rings, or enchanted castles. These are only to be met with in the compositions of the bards who flourished after the native vein of Runic fabling had been enriched by the tales of the Arabians.”4 This is an extremely cautious method of writing; for while we contend that the Easterns furnished the groundwork, and fix the date, Mr. Dunlop may tell us, be it when it may, that it was subsequent to the period in which the Runic fable flourished in its native purity. Let us examine, however, how far his bold assertion may be maintained, respecting the poetical machinery adopted by the ancient Scalds. Let us advert to EDDA,1 a monument “tout-à-fait unique en son espèce,” as Monsieur Mallet assures us,2 and try whether there be not, in fact, almost the whole of what he has rejected.

  Gylfe was king of Sweden, and a celebrated magician. When a colony of Asiatics arrived in his country (a tradition which adds strength to my hypothesis) he assumed the form of an old man, and journeyed to the city of Asgard. “Sed Asæ erant perspicaciores, (imo ut) prseviderent iter ejus, eumque fascinatione oculornm exciperent. Tunc cernebat ille altum palatium: Tecta ejus erant tecta aureis clypeis, ut tectum novum, Ita loquitur Diodolfius: ‘Tectum ex auro micante, Parietes ex lapide, Fundamina aulæ ex montibus fecere Asæ sagaciores.’”3

  Here, beyond dispute, is an enchanted castle. And not only so, but the common oriental practice of putting a number of questions as the test of a person’s wisdom, occurs in this very fable. “Qui est le plus ancien on le premier des Dieux?” is first asked, and other interrogatories follow, of a similar character. Then for the GIANTS —in the Runic mythology nothing is more common. Speaking of the formation of man, the Edda observes (I follow the French translation of M. Mallet) : “Cet homme fut appellé Yme ; les Géans le nomment Oergelmer, et c’est de lui que tontes leurs families deecendent, comme cela est dit dans la Voluspa: ‘Toutes les Prophétesses viennent de Vittolfe; les sages de Vilmôde, LES GEANS de Yme,’ et dans un autre endroit: ‘Des fleuves Elivages ont coulé des goutes de venim, et il souffla un vent d’où. un Géant fut formé. De lui viennent toutes les races Gigantesques.’”4 In this place we have not merely an accidental notice of giants, but their full genealogy, and a quotation from a poem still more ancient than the Edda, introduced in support of it. Afterwards mention is made of the Dwarfs: “Alors les Dieux s’etant assis sur leurs thrônes rendirent la justice et délibererent sur cequi concernoit les NAINS. Cette espèce de créatures s’etoit formée dans la poudre de la terre, comme les vers naissent dans un cadavre.”1 And again of the Fairies and Genii, or beings answering to them—“Les unes sont d’origine divine, d’autres descendent des GENIES, d’autres des Nains, comme il est dit dans ses vers: Il y a des FÉES de diverse origine, quelques unes viennent des Dieux, et d’autres des GENIES, d’autres des Nains”2 This fable gives a very curious account of the fairies : “Voici,” says M. Mallet, “une Théorie complette de la Féerie;” but they are perhaps, as Bishop Percy has remarked, more analogous to the Weird Sisters than to the popular notion of fairyism in the present day. The ninth fable of the EDDA alludes to “LES GENIES lumineux,” who are said to be “plus brillans que le soleil; mais les noirs sont plus noirs que la poix.”3 And what is this but the good and bad genii of Eastern romance? Thor’s “vaillante ceinture, qui a le pouvoir d’accroitre ses forces,” and the “chaine magique,”4 are equivalent to the enchanted ring; nor are “le grand serpent de Midgard,” with other monsters, so unlike the oriental Dragon,5 as to preclude any comparison.